It was a mistake to think the old man couldn’t afford to lie to me. Every damn kid in the city wanted a crack at the floating mechanical brains that had crushed their homes and their futures in one afternoon. The old man knew, as Hunter should have known, that the cheapest way to find good help was to throw a few dozen hopeful lives at the Stronghold and start training the two or three that came back in one or two pieces.
He had never seen her before, and she didn’t seem to recognize him, so when Herb and Becka awoke to find their hands inseperably joined, they began screaming.
The sun was pretty much just hanging out below the horizon anymore, trying not to feed the crazyweeds that had more or less replaced the city. There were giant trunks on most of the street corners that dispensed free beverages and frozen dinners, and giant eyes on stalks that glared at the food to cook it. So it wasn’t all bad.
He was sick to death of macaroni and cheese, though, and his heart was a constant drum solo, both from the caffeine and the terror.
Keep reading ‘the trouble with the dead’
The prepubescent roar of the Japanese machine echoed off the highrises and skyscrapers as he wove his way through the stalled traffic of his city. After six months of the same routine, he knew when to lean, when to slide, and when it would look cool to pop a wheelie. His senses had developed to the point that he could close his eyes for seconds at a time and imagine crowds of people cheering at him. He punched a mirror off a Stratus as he passed and relished the sensation. Each night it took more to make him feel.
Keep reading ‘Midnight Ride’
He was sure that he dozed, but nothing in the room had changed to indicate the passage of time. He closed his eyes again, but no longer felt the gentle tug of unconsciousness.
There was a whoosh as a panel slid open across from him. He jumped out of his seat and ran the three strides to the opposite wall. The woman’s face appeard. “Someone will be with you shortly,” she said, then slammed the window.
“Wait!” He reached the wall and started pounding on it. “Come back! Just give me a time!” After kicking the wall, he turned and picked up his chair and flung it, with a yell.
There was no response. He picked up the chair and set it next to where he thought he remembered the window being.
He leaned forward and let his face fall into his hands. “Or at least let me go home.”
A panel opened in the middle of the floor and the room began to fill with water.