With shaking fingers, Vik attached the last wire to the prosthetic arm’s microprocessor. “The patient is now fully operational.”
His voice sounded deceptively calm, belying his frantically pounding heart.
Behind him, Igor clapped. “It’s ready?”
“He,” Vik corrected, leveling a glare at the technician. “Bring me the defibrillator.”
Above, raindrops pounded against
The tracking device sizzles and melts as my cybernetic eye’s laser bores into it. After a moment, it’s nothing more than fried wires and chalk-like powder. Destroying it is probably too little too late in deterring whoever must be following us, but I certainly won’t make their job easier.
The tracker is
It was a running joke between Doddy and me throughout our marriage that he’d fallen in love with the missing half of my leg first—and then he fell in love with the rest of me.
Inventors! More excited by what’s missing rather than what’s there.
I open the panel in my prosthetic leg
The drop freighter loses its savage grapple with gravity for a moment. Everything inside the vessel rises and falls from the interruption. Like those old music machines with the plastic wheels. Discs. Records. They’d collect dust, and songs would skip.
“Ya know…” starts Sergeant Cava, battle rifle resting against his chest. “
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
By all standards, Tony was cute. So few guys ever looked like their profile pictures, but he fulfilled his wonderfully. Nice smile. Stunning eyes. And praise the Lord, he knew not to wear cargo shorts on a date. Or ever.
We ordered appetizers, taking in the view from restaurant’s second story patio.
Neon lights. Scores of people. A quick glance over her shoulder. She popped the collar of her leather coat and hurried along the market street. How long would it take them to find her?
A kiosk to her right showed the Washington Post. She’d made the front page:
DOCTOR CYBER HAS VANISHED
The sun is dying. The world is dying. But I am going to live.
I walk down Main Street one final time. The sky is orange, but the orange is not sky—thick smog clouds blocked it out long ago. Only a touch of color finds its way through.
I cannot remember a time
Finlay’s alarm blared at eight a.m. ship’s time, waking him from another dream about Alaia. He opened his eyes to a room flooded with cold light. The stale, chilly air of the ship filled his lungs, and the distant engines whirred sharply.
For one moment, he still felt her arms around him.
Jacob nudged the Joint Venture’s harvesting controls, unable to hide his grin of triumph. “Fifteen. I win!”
“Cheater. Four of those were clustered together.” Seelia’s scowl didn’t hold, and her matching grin prompted a warm glow somewhere between his clavicle and navel. She sprang up from her control chair
I died three hundred and ninety-nine days ago.
The doctors told me that I didn’t really die. I just lost 46.6 percent of my human body. It felt like dying when they dragged my broken frame out of the rubble and inferno of the explosion and filled the empty spaces with wires and metal.
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