The boundary between information and inert matter was ruptured irrevocably when mankind learned what our ancestors knew before the birth of civilization: to touch is to know.
I am reincarnated as the middle daughter of my youngest grandchild, Eliza.
I waved my hand across a bank of monitors that precisely registered my status and identity.
Skimming the instructions again, I was really just playing for time…
The president’s national security advisor delivered the words she had dreaded hearing: “Madam President, I’m afraid you can no longer safely appear in public.”
I am the enemy of those of blood and breath.
The year is 2078. Rampant consumption has succeeded in burning a hole through the ozone layer.
“Droplets of liquid methane began to splash on Glin’s bald head . . .”
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