The doorbell jingles. I stuff my nanocell into my khaki pocket and paste on my customer-service smile. The doors slide shut behind a woman and two men. “Welcome to the Nanotech Center!” I say.
My smile wavers at their dark clothing. They match the descriptions of the Sound, the infamous gang—
Dex had one thing in common with his sister Fae: they both hated the monthly meetings of the National Individuals of Power Association. In Dex’s opinion, they offered unparalleled opportunities for humiliation.
His one consolation was the free food.
I don’t usually enjoy parties. But a rave? I had to experience one of those.
Hannah dragged me down the coast to a cozy little beachside town removed from society. Cars and RVs were packed into a giant parking lot on the outskirts. People from all over came for the rave.
I laid the photos out on the little café table in front of Marianne. “Can you tell me anything about any of these people?”
She ran her fingers over the faces. “They all look familiar, but I can’t say I actually know any of them.” She peered up at me.
I stroke the strings of my finntler as I set it up under the burning lights of the spaceport overhead.
I reckon the best way to describe a finntler is it’s mighty like a xylophone, ‘cept with strings. That and it’s my life on a table. I’m just a boy, but most cain’t mimic the way I play. Travelers passin’ by throw coins. A few stop to listen to the music; my regulars clap along, whoopin’ and cheerin’ as I finish.
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