Yesterday was the awfullest day in the history of awful.
Morning light intruded on my doze, bringing back another rehash of those bullies tormenting my almost-friend, and me doing nothing about it. “Stay out of this, Ade-lame!” they taunted, so I did.
Any minute now, mom would yell, “Adelie, get up!”
I pulled
The rowdiness in the mall stretched for miles. I watched from a distance as people flocked the hallways, leaning over balconies to gape at the waving, smiling bot in their midst.
Thomas900.
Thomas’s robotic voice matched mine. He was tall like me, but with inward curves in the middle and a spherical base.
A drum beat throbs, anchoring the guitar riff spilling out the front door of Maisy’s Blue Dandelion. Only Charlene can play the blues like that—with her soul riding on each note, her very life poured into the music. Exposed. Honest. Alive.
I pull in a breath of moisture-laden air. Lightning flashes in
Kylie had never seen so much bot blood.
There were drops of it, splashes and pools of it, all leading farther into the house like Gretel’s breadcrumbs. Toting her medical bag high, she watched where she placed her boots. There was nothing like getting cobalt blood on leather. It was the consistency of
Trouble started with Miss Herbert’s sixth card.
I do ESP screening, so I’m used to trouble. Psychics are among the few making a decent living in the Depression, which is why people get plenty sore when I tell them they’ve flunked the test. Curses, threats. I’ve dodged punches. Guess I can’t blame them much
Derek sprints out the door with a handful of cash. Sweat beads trickle down his forehead. Black glasses fog above the facemask that hugs his chin and shields his mouth. The mask slips down his nose, dangling just over his lips as he hustles to his rusty pickup truck. Police sirens wail in
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There are things they don’t tell you about having green skin. Like that you’ll always be parched. Or that when you have too much water, you’ll get a sugar high. Or that when you don’t get enough sunlight, you’ll wilt. Literally.
But I chose to become a Chlor—this way, my life will
“Welcome to Odac’s Moon.” The pleasant voice filled the docking station. “Please place all weaponry in the receptacle provided.”
As Illian disembarked her ship, a large metal drawer slid from the wall. She knew the drill. Working top to bottom, she removed her back scabbard, hip holster, right thigh strap, left ankle clip,
I took the form from the gnarled hand. Behind the receptionist’s thick glasses piercing jade eyes examined me. “Fill this out and your request will be considered.”
Only two other applicants sat in cracked vinyl chairs. The mint paint was chipped and stained. A layer of dust covered most surfaces. I took a seat
“For the last time, Mr. Hernandez,” I enunciate, poking savage holes in my lime-green blotter with my peacock pen, “you cannot land in Wittenberg, Germany on October 31, 1517.”
“Killjoy,” mutters the time traveler on the other end of the phone. “All I wanted to do was have a look around.”
Shut the gates!”
Lieutenant Pearce snapped up as his comm unit screeched with the command. His chair creaked angrily at the abuse, and the report he had been engrossed in fell to the floor.
“Copy that? What’s going on?”
“It’s Farley! Gamma Patrol! Shut the gates, Pearce!”
The officer instinctively moved his hand
CT hunched his shoulders against the drizzle and the gazes of other pedestrians, his hood pulled up to hide his face. Neon signs colored the sidewalk and steel buildings odd tones in the night. Between the hordes of people, he glimpsed an officer ahead and swung toward a video advertisement sign, feigning interest.
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