Dr. Stacey Roman watched as Roy, Chief Militia for Apex building, put down the copy of Fire Next Time he had been reading to reluctantly unlock the door for her.
Time marches on! What a ridiculous cliché. If I had a minute for every time I’ve heard it, I’d . . . well, don’t get me started.
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.