Spark’s reflection multiplied infinitely in the high-tech museum’s mirror maze. Each image wore the same chartreuse blazer and metallic pants he’d chosen specifically to stand out at the exhibition. Now he wished he’d worn something less conspicuous. Being the center of attention
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The harmonic hall doors slammed and Spark hurtled out and over the low balustrade to the pavement, rolling to a stop and barely catching himself from going over the edge into the clouds below the floating city of Sonata. It was a two-mile drop
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My client looked like the world had been wiping the floor with her. She lay back in the containment pod and closed her eyes.
“Ma’am, you have to spin the wheel first,” I told her.
She leaned over to give the roulette a
Spark Spaulding showed up the way he always did—swaggering, thirsty, and full of stories. “Hey-o, Bernard! The usual, and a cheeseburger, cheers. I’m bloody starving.”
I nodded across the bar.
Several seats away, our preening android waiter perked up at the sight of a human. He hurried over, sculpted shoulders straining against
He came in every day for almost a week, at ten to four in the afternoon, stood in line for a coffee—medium, hazelnut syrup, almond milk—then stayed just long enough to take a sip or two. Gave his name as Sam. Smiled at me each visit.
I melted the first time
Before his world flip-flopped, Lachlan Lendur was having a pretty good day.
He delivered a cacophonous shuttle-load of House Azure design assistants and their paraphernalia to the Jade Fashion Expo. He flew toward home in blissful quiet along Azure’s sunny coastline. He watched cat vids. Then the shuttle ruined his morning by rolling belly-up.
I shielded my glasses from the drizzle and speed-walked down the street. Neon lights reflected on the slick concrete. Swirls of pink, green, and blue shuddered as my boots splashed through the puddles. I slipped my hand into my pocket and fingered my wallet.
The wealthy could afford to “misplace” money for a
Aether’s Edge floated demurely across the sky, but inside the dirigible manor’s private study, Kytt Windthorn’s language was anything but ladylike.
“Thomas Edison’s trousers!” Kytt swiped a curl out of her face and pressed her ear to the cold metal door of an Iron Guardian X99. They were finicky under the best circumstances
Colors flickered along the ad wall beside me as a female voice extolled the benefits of a visit to the Olympus Mons spa. You can’t be talking to me.
“Kytt Windthorn!” The AI must have sensed my disinterest, swapping its sultry tone for a knife-edge. “Don’t you want to go to Mars?”
“So everybody was panicking and stuff,” Joe Enza said, his paunchy midsection protruding from under the unit. “Finally I asked them, ‘Did any of you bother to check the breaker box?’ Lo and behold, the breaker was flipped. I wrote the bill, but I made sure to hit them for another twenty bucks just
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Doc Sklodowski’s forehead furrowed as he examined me in Martian General Hospital’s clinic. “I’ve never seen anything like this on a scalp—or anywhere outside of a photo. Are those bruises what they look like, Mr. Enza? They can’t be.”
I winced as my head throbbed. “Oh, yes they can. Let me tell you
Joe sat near the edge of the roof, bathed in the cream-colored glow of Jupiter’s broad disc. “Why is it always some damn birds?” They loved building nests in the Slip Time Cooler housings, and he could just see a feather poking out. These dumb old models. Why didn’t they put grates over
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