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The Spire would have to understand that it was all a mistake and we never intended to go so far against the edicts of the Spire. Why had Taria not told me? When did this happen? How long? Did she conspire against me? No! My mind was awash with thoughts of confusion, panic and betrayal.
My previous assertion was right. I was trapped. The Integrator is a tool of the Techspire to communicate with transgressors without the need to soil their precious shoes on the filthy streets of the Tangle.
Panic and chaos now struck the crowd and the stampede towards the arch began in earnest. Men trampling women. Women trampling children. Screams of terror and disbelief echoed through the market.
They lived in the Tangle, in the Eighth Circle, near the Barrier Wall … and they kept to themselves.
“We’re going to lose her anyway,” I said, surveying Rose and the opposing player in their ballet of violence. She appeared out geared and outmatched, but Rose was usually more cunning than her opponents.
Equally disturbing was that there might be forty-one other balls hidden somewhere in the Solar System … perhaps more. It was not a comforting epiphany.
Every Sunday, for years, I’d fired up its rumbling and willing engine and journeyed to the countryside to visit my white-haired uncle. The VMX, a gift from him, was his dearest dream … a mechanical anachronism from a better vanished time.
Crab shows up and vanishes as he pleases. Yet he does so at the strangest of times, enigmatically appearing as if he knows that she needs him or wants to see him. Pets always seem to have a sixth sense in that regard.
Nullspace Travel Advisory: The inhabitants do not take a liking to those who step on their shadows.
They approached the terminal warily, looking through the lattice at ground level to ensure they could see no one else in the vault. Hamlet secretly wished he could connect with Gravedigger via his bio.node, but there was no hope this deep under the ground…
What I’m standing on now is a black, jagged monolith thrusting from the barren volcanic plains of Arsensia III like a decayed tooth of the world, its lower portion cloaked in an atmosphere of choking sulfur dioxide, and its summit extending into the vacuum of space. Who in their right mind makes a journey of eighty-five light-years to climb a barren rock cloaked in a deadly atmosphere?
The rain was starting to let up, it’s job to cleanse Street City of obsolete and spurious data just about complete. It was an aesthetic method of maintenance utilized to keep immersion intact. But to her it still felt deceptively cold and wet.
