Saito shuffled through the red storm toward the airlock … hesitated … then stopped. Fine Martian sand hissed against his faceplate, the white noise interrupted by the occasional tick! impact of larger pebbles.
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.
Nullspace Travel Advisory: The inhabitants do not take a liking to those who step on their shadows.
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.
… lull them into a sense of security and purpose, to distract them from most of their miserable existences … not to make them question their keepers. The keepers frowned on that. The sleepers must sleep, even if they don’t know they slumber.
He looked over the edge and scanned the surrounding glow for signs of Collectors. Gravedigger better goddamn pay up. This avatar heist started out as a cakewalk, but quickly turned into a shit sandwich.
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