<— Previous ~~~~~ Ned watched as Agent Choinski awkwardly followed his own calm lead, taking a gulp of air before pulling the hood of her hazmat closed. He nodded to her, “you’re safe now,” he said roughly over the mic. He’d already felt the pinch in his own throat of cartilage fracturing in the gas. […]
They were all browsing while they talked and Graham had edged away to the back of the store by himself. In his hands he had a browned, but clean-edged bound. He turned it in his hands, it was odd, but he felt no thrill in that. Bringing it to his nose… there was nothing, the […]
“I didn’t mean to…” Started Robert. But didn’t seem to know how to finish. Emlen narrowed his eyes. “They’d send me to the Library, Robert, and you know what that means. For both of us.” Robert looked back at him desperately. As if with no way out. Emlen continued. “You wanted into this, and I […]
<— Previous ~~~~~ They were moving again. They’d returned to the Tube. “Cute.” Graham muttered. “They own an illegal print-job for the intrinsic flaw that it’s been Auteured. That it isn’t an auto-correcting text. That bound’s only ever been valuable to them for once having been ‘right.’ That it’s become a part of their own […]
You know that ‘oh shit…’ moment you get when you think you’ve been wasting your time for the past year? Yeah, that’s what I got when I bumped into Ben Bova’s Cyberbooks in a secondhand store not long ago. The worst of it was, I couldn’t say that I hadn’t heard of it before, I’d […]
<— Previous ~~~~~ Inside the club it was DnB. Drums at a hundred and eighty-five BPM / and the sub-bass at a slower, iambic ninety. Some of the dancers raved inhumanly at the slower pentameter, holding their water bottles high into the laser light. The agitated bubbles foaming their drinks like molten silver. Graham would […]
Out on the street from the pub, there were ‘no-go’ zones around the hit, marked by push notifications: ‘Street closed. Follow prompts to detour.’ The notes buzzed the mobiles in their pockets, tingling like a mild electric fence.
The Wild Kids jeered as Christian ground his suspension boot into the other teen’s ribs. “I told you not to collaborate on our turf, Gav.” Gavin replied by sign, twisting in agony—and if anyone there had been fluent in pain, they may have appreciated his poetry.
“Wait. Graham. I need you. People died to get me that last bound, it was developed under an anonymous patronage, and it’s had a terribly high cost.” “Shit, Emlen.” Graham rounded on him. “Are you dealing with Ransoms? Tell me. I’m already on the run from the ninjas—hunters—whatever—and you’re wanting to get me involved with that? Forget ale, I need a gin.” Graham feared that word. But he didn’t really know what a Ransom was.