The NanoNet – WIC5

Under a clear, cloudless, brilliant blue sky, Forrest paused to watch a chickadee bob around in a shrub, piping its familiar song, unconcerned with the nearby human. He looked down at the hard, glossy potatoes he had raised from the cool earth around his feet, noticed the subtle fragrance of the soil and potatoes. His ...

Fourteen Months Earlier Forrest was supposed to be keeping his eyes closed, but this was too interesting. A little mesmerizing, he found. A calming blue glow filled the helmet-like chamber lowered over his head. A subtle electronic hum filled his ears, overlaid with a soft, regular clicking, like the turn signal on a car, but more ...

Forrest was pulled out of a restless sleep by the incoming chat chime from the screen in the den. All the screens in other rooms were silenced at night, but the Mortons had never left their old habit of leaving the one downstairs on, just in case Molly should call late. Far enough away so ...

Andrew Thinnick opened the humidor on the credenza in his office, selected a substantial cigar, and drew in its scent as he lightly tested it between thumb and forefinger. He offered one to his nephew with a wave of his hand. “You know I’m not a fan, Uncle. Thank you, though.” Murdoch finished pouring their bourbon ...

Monitoring Congolese Republic, Kinshasa station, floor 6, section 3, desk 7. Rosy Mutombo surveyed the bank of screens in front of her, took the final sip of her second energy drink of the evening, and tried to massage a cramp out of her calf muscle. A quick glance around to be sure the floor supervisor was ...

Forrest texted Bruce after his first coffee and a bite of breakfast, when he was sure Bruce would be up, an early riser on west coast time. Time to talk, chat me. He returned to the den to wait, continued sifting his notes, thinking through them. He had started on his second cup when the screen began its ...

Murdoch Thinnick surveyed the ground far below the window of his office, watching workers make their way across the large open space between the buildings of the MedImplant campus. Always an interesting mix of people, some hurrying to their shifts, some gathering around the various street-food stalls, some coming into view, or leaving it, as ...

At night, the ceiling of Rosy’s bedroom was painted with stray pulses of light radiating from Kinshasa’s vibrant downtown, filtered through small chinks around the drapes. She and DK watched the patterns move in an endless dance above them. Faint strains of music, engines and horns, animated voices, all competed over muffled baselines carried from ...