Prevention Force

by Scott Talbot Evans

an 84,000-word humor novel

A policewoman with bipolar disorder and her partner, a talking germophobic German Shepherd who hacks computers, take on the 1% in the year 2121.




Her captain tells her not to worry about a small discrepancy in a report, but hardheaded, 53-year-old policewoman Liesl Healy keeps digging, using the power of of forensic statistics to slowly uncover an enormous crime--the 1% are getting away with murder. 


Ordered to stay away, she pursues the case on her own(with the help of her partner Spoct, a talking, germophobic German Shepherd, who hacks computers, but not before first spraying them down with sanitizer.)

It won’t be easy fighting the powers that be with Liesl’s bipolar disorder flaring up.

Corrupt Senator Connmann, an alligator in a three-piece suit, gives Liesl a false criminal record and has her committed to an asylum where she is to be lobotomized. He’s also arranged for Spoct to be disassembled, and what’s worse, the machine that will do it is absolutely filthy.



PREVENTION FORCE is an upmarket humor novel set in the year 2121. It inspires us to imagine a criminal justice system where police don’t punish criminals; they rehabilitate them, and where they shoot glue, not bullets.

It is comparable to Incompetence, Chilling Effect, and Cat’s Cradle.

Edited by Jannetta Lamourt

Edited by Bill Entz

Edited by Elizabeth L. Miller

Also by author:



"I really like Prevention Force. This is a story I'd like to own.  I think this would make a good screenplay for a good movie. Here are some authors and movies that come to mind; some in broader intuitive senses, and some more specifically: Philip K. Dick, Ready Player 1,
Minority Report, Buckaroo Banzai, and Douglas Adams. While I am comparing your work to others, I still find the story to be wholly original."

                                         --Brendan Shea

"I liked it. It's a little bit quirky, not like most other things I've read but it kept my interest. I found the restorative justice aspect especially interesting . . . quite a lot of humorous and quirky stuff in there and it's fun to read."

                                             --Willie Johnson

"This made me laugh--I love the humour! This was a fun read, and I can see where you could have a series for these characters.
Your characters are vibrant and believable. The story moves along nicely."

                                             --Vivienne Sang


I like the overall tone (kind of a Terry Pratchett vibe.) The pacing makes me want to keep going, without feeling overwhelming. The first few chapters set the world we're in, and the focus shifting to the "unexplained" causes of behavior gets us into the heart of the plot. Overall, a good read early on.

--Lawrence Merithew

Have finished the book. I liken your genre to Ben Elton's style of writing, very tongue in cheek jabs at society and social structures. I found it entertaining...I think it is pretty cool. 

--Angela Tomlinson


Thank God, Edie & Larry Rice, Stacy Evans, Leah Guidry, Robert Reilly, Sharon Altman, Kerin Gould, Bill Entz, Jannetta Lamorte, Ashley Martinez from I Love Books and Stuff Blog, Gordon A. Long, Anna Del C. Dye, Lisa Haselton Book Reviews and Interviews, Brendan Shea, Lawrence Merithew, Vivienne Sang, William Turner, Frank Raymond Michaels, Dennis Ford, Moreena Babirye, Judd King, Angela Tomlinson


FIRST 944 words:

A call comes over the radio, “Suspect with knife at Liberty Pole. Armed and dangerous.”

Lieutenant Spoct spits out his dog biscuit from the passenger seat. “Holy Schmolies!” He barks strong and deep, twice.

Lieutenant Liesl Healy punches the accelerator. The open-top convertible with no wheels flies three feet above the ground. “No one is going to commit violence on my watch.”

The siren, designed to be easy on the ears, sounds like a man singing, “Ooooooo-waaaaaa. Ooooooo-waaaaaa.” The German Shepherd plops his front legs over the side and howls in unison.   

The 53-year-old policewoman cranks the joy stick hard to the left, then to the right, weaving the mirror-finish sports car between bicycles and pedestrians.

Spoct’s computer eyeball projects a hologram onto the windshield, a rotating green image of a long knife. “The blade is 19.4 inches.”

Healy winces. “You could have just said 19 inches. I would have gotten the picture.”

“I like to be accurate.” He smiles, cheeks fluttering in the wind. “It’s that last point four inches that gets ya.”

Liesl laughs. “That’s not a knife. It’s a machete. Better get the blubber ready.” She presses a button on her belt and an inch-thick clear gel rises all over her body. Spoct does the same.

Somehow their police hats stay on their heads as the curvy sports car flies 100 mph. On its sides is written in white letters on a blue background, “Prevention Force.” The chassis comes to sharp points at the corners, poking forward and back.  

Liesl’s normally cheery, chubby cheeks frown. “A knife. What’s the world coming to?”

Spoct’s normally erect ears droop. “We should’ve counseled this subject the moment a violent intention arose in his subconscious.”  

Liesl shakes her head. “Some way to start the new year.” Her face expands in excitement and contracts in concentration as she weaves through obstacles, keeping mostly to the right lane reserved for gasoline vehicles, which is usually empty. Her eyes open wide when a pigeon flies right in front of the point, almost getting shish kebabed. She swipes past a man pushing a handcart, causing him to drop boxes, which scares a horse-squirrel up a tree. She says, “Sorry,” already long gone. She accelerates through a straightaway and shouts to the world with the wind in her face, “I love my job!”

“If I could bottle what you’re on I’d be a rich dog.”

“You are rich.” She beams. “We are abundant!”

Downtown Susan, New York is abuzz. Construction sites on every block. Luxury apartment buildings popping up faster than varmints on a whack-a-mole board. This city is going places--up. Rents inflating so fast they make an audible whoosh. If you have to ask about parking, you can’t afford it.

As they approach Liberty Plaza, Liesl says, “Get your gun ready.”

“Don’t worry.” He taps it and smiles. “It’s always ready.” He chews an itch on his arm.

The plaza is crowded. Little white mountains are scattered around where the plows piled the snow. The Liberty Pole is a two-thousand-foot-tall silver beam with wires strung from its apex to the ground. A black marble bench circles its base. People usually sit on it, but at the moment there is only one man, standing on it, screaming his brains out. The onlookers leave a bubble of space around him on account of the machete. The 330-pound man with overgrown hair and dirty clothes is ranting something unintelligible about President Sanders.

The people part for the police car, which skids mid-air to a stop, then gently lowers to the ground.

“You people are all cowards! You’re all sheep!”

Healy’s sees the pain on his face and her smile washes away. She thinks, “This was someone’s baby at one time. How could we have failed him so badly?” She points the ID pen at him. It scans his DNA and his record comes up--Raymond Michael Franks, Social Security # 581-653-479-291-008. His records scroll down-- medical, employment, psychological. His GoogBook posts going back thirty years. Everything there is to know about him. He doesn’t like being called Ray.

She whispers to Spoct, “Brain disorder.”

“Gee. Ya think?” Spoct jumps out of the car. He walks gently to within twenty feet. “How’s it going, Ray?”

“Don’t Ray me!” He swipes.

Spoct flinches. He notices the man’s fingernails and face and cringes. He calculates they haven’t been washed in 4.2 years. He presses a button on his belt his entire canine body is covered in a rubber film which allows breathing, but prevents the transfer of germs. “Take it easy, buddy. We’re on your side.”   

Raymond snarls. “I’m not your buddy,” and swoops the sword in the other direction. 

This time Spoct doesn’t budge. He holds up one claw to make a point. “Please remember the four agreements. Never take anything personally.”

Healy approaches to within 10 feet. She is 5’7”, full figured, with a large pair of chestseses. She takes off her cap, unleashing her wild bush of Ludwig Von Beethoven hair.


Looking for reviewers.

If you would like a free advance release pdf of the entire book, message me on the contact form at the bottom of this page.

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Written by Scott Talbot Evans


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Scott Talbot Evans

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