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SEVERANCE: Book 1 of The Last Regulator

Steven Nimocks’s Severance, Book 1 of The Last Regulator, drops readers into SoundCore, a future Puget Metroplex where emotional control is not a private discipline but the scaffolding of civilization. Elias Reynor, a near-perfect officer in the Neural Compliance Division, begins investigating a dead colleague, illegal emotion markets, sabotaged regulators, and a conspiracy threaded through the very institution he serves. What begins as a procedural investigation becomes a destabilizing journey into memory, obedience, and the dangerous possibility that feeling may be more human than hazardous.

I was drawn in by the book’s atmosphere immediately. SoundCore feels antiseptic and haunted at once, a city of clean corridors, monitored citizens, copper suppressants, and soft blue regulation lights. Nimocks gives the setting a polished menace; everything is orderly, but the order has a pulse under it, something coerced and febrile. Elias is a compelling guide through that world because his certainty erodes by degrees. His transformation is not a sudden rebellion but a slow internal weather change, and that makes the story’s philosophical tension more persuasive.

The novel is strongest when it lets suspicion accumulate like condensation. Juno’s too-perfect responses, Dr. Harven’s guarded knowledge, Alera’s unsettling calm, and the recurring evidence of institutional manipulation all build a pleasing sense of claustrophobia. The exposition and procedural language can feel heavy, but the density suits the book’s machinery-driven world. I appreciated how the action sequences are not merely spectacle; they expose the cruelty of systems that can weaponize protocol, compliance, and even a person’s own intellect against him.

Readers who enjoy dystopian science fiction, cyberpunk thrillers, speculative noir, and books about surveillance, emotional suppression, and institutional rebellion will find plenty to admire here. Severance should appeal to fans of Philip K. Dick’s paranoia and Blake Crouch’s high-concept momentum, though Nimocks gives the material a more procedural, compliance-state edge. This is a sharp opening act for a larger saga, and its best moments ask a question that will leave you thinking: what remains of order when it has severed us from ourselves?

Pages: 414 | ASIN: B0GYHX6QWJ

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Weighing a Miracle (Silent Spaces)

Steven Nimocks Author Interview

Weighing a Miracle reimagines the story of Lazarus through Caleb, a man of logic whose belief in absolutes is shaken by a divine event he cannot explain. What inspired you to retell one of the most well-known moments from the Bible?

What inspired me for this story is a sermon I heard titled “There’s a Revival in the Graveyard.” The thought came to me about the reaction Lazarus must have gotten from the people that knew him, and attended his funeral. I wanted to capture the look on their face(s) when they saw him alive. In my mind I thought ‘that’s an interesting concept’ and I left it at that. But the thought would not leave me. I carried that thought for a week and it was burning in my mind. Finally, I decided to outline a story out of the biblical account just to see what it would look like. As I finished the outline, I started writing the first draft and couldn’t stop until I was done. The rest is history and here we are.

How closely did you adhere to the biblical account, and where did you feel free to imagine or expand?

That’s a good question and I am glad you asked. There are some stories in the bible that give a lot of detail. Stories that have a lot of meat on their bones. Then there are stories that don’t even give you the name(s) of the main characters in the story. What I like to do is to make the unnamed characters come alive by bolstering their lives with more detail. The bible stories that have unnamed characters and such, I give them names and also a history if possible. My goal is to make the original story more vivid by supplying the missing detail. And at the same time, I don’t want to ‘bend’ the original account of the story by altering the known facts about the story. So, instead of changing the original story, I enhance it with the missing details that make a good story better.

Were there scenes you found especially difficult to write because of their spiritual or emotional gravity?

No, I don’t think so. With my philosophy of keeping the original story intact and just retelling it with more ‘meat on the bones,’ I don’t find any of that difficult. I just want to make good stories better.

What do you hope readers who are uncertain or skeptical about faith take away from Caleb’s journey?

I hope to inspire people to persevere when the trying of their faith comes along. Keeping the faith is paramount. Especially in the face of adverse conditions.

Author Links: GoodReads | X | Website

A dead man walked out of his tomb. Now a merchant’s entire world refuses to balance.
Caleb ben Josiah has built his life on certainty — on weights that balance, contracts that hold, and truths that can be measured.
When his closest friend Lazarus dies, Caleb does what he does best: he steps in to manage the practical realities of loss for the grieving family. He expects grief. He expects finality.
He does not expect the tomb to be found empty.
And he certainly does not expect Lazarus himself to appear at his door — alive.
Now the careful merchant faces a reality that shatters every ledger he has ever kept. As grief, memory, and impossible evidence collide, Caleb must confront the one question his scales were never meant to answer:
What do you do when the world you trusted no longer adds up?
Weighing a Miracle is a quiet, introspective reimagining of one of the most famous moments in Scripture — told through the eyes of a man who measures everything, and suddenly can measure nothing at all.
A Silent Spaces Story

Weighing a Miracle

Weighing a Miracle retells the raising of Lazarus from John 11, but it does so from the ground level rather than the halo. Author Steven Nimocks centers the story on Caleb, a merchant whose life is built on weights, ledgers, contracts, and whatever can be proved, then sets that temperament against Lazarus, Mary, Martha, and the gathering rumor of Jesus moving through Bethany. The result is a biblical novel that begins in commerce, friendship, and illness, then tightens into death, waiting, and the unbearable strain between measurable reality and divine interruption.

I admired that the book does not treat faith as a decorative glow laid over the narrative. It treats faith as friction. Caleb is not a cardboard skeptic; he is a wounded, disciplined man whose need for order feels earned, even poignant. That gives the book its real voltage. Again and again, Nimocks returns to the language of scales, seals, balances, and records, and instead of becoming repetitive, that imagery acquires moral density. I felt the novel’s emotional pressure not in its largest miracle, but in its quieter humiliations: the way grief narrows a room, the way practicality can become both mercy and armor, the way a friend’s hope can irritate you precisely because you fear it may be true.

The prose has a clean biblical-historical surface, but underneath that surface is a distinctly modern psychological intelligence. Nimocks writes with tactile specificity, the dust of the Jericho road, the heft of bronze weights, the smell of sickness, the faint trace of burial myrrh, and those details keep the book from floating away into pious mist. I would not call it flashy prose, and that is to its credit. It’s steady, exact, and occasionally luminous. The novel’s seriousness can make it feel over-deliberate in places; it advances by moral accumulation rather than narrative speed. But even there, the patience suits the subject. This is a book about a man learning that his categories are too small for what is happening in front of him.

I would recommend this to readers of biblical fiction, Christian historical fiction, faith-based literary fiction, and Scripture-centered retellings, especially those who prefer interior conflict over spectacle. Readers who appreciate authors like Francine Rivers, or who responded to the scriptural intimacy of The Chosen, will probably find this book congenial, though Nimocks feels quieter, sterner, and more merchant-eyed in his sensibility. For readers who want reverence without blandness, and devotion without soft focus, this is a strong fit. Weighing a Miracle is a novel about resurrection, but even more, it’s a novel about what happens when a man’s scales can no longer hold the truth.

Pages: 147 | ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0DLWXN7C4

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