Escaping This Year_Peculiarly Perfect, Startlingly Straight_Karessa_Panoptikon Error 7
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Escaping This Year
A police car sat at the end of the alley with the passenger door still open. Two officers slowly crept down the alley inspecting every nook and cranny with their flashlights. The call had come in only a few minutes before they had arrived at the end of the alley from sheer luck of stopping at the Korean restaurant around the corner for some spicy beef noodles. The rookie, who had left the passenger door open, was thinking of his noodles in the back of his mind. His partner would have a talk with him to ensure he doesn’t make the same mistake again but for now he hopes no one jumps in the car s...
Peculiarly Perfect, Startlingly Straight
A warm auburn glow beneath the skin of her eyelids slowly welcomed Tess to the new day. There was a comforting pressure weighing down on her chest, warm, woolly, ever so slightly moving with the rhythm of breath. Slowly, she opened her right eye, daring to steal a glance at her overlord. This, of course, was what we will call a bad idea. Two vertical pupil slits swam atop topaz spheres in front of her. They were alert, and they were locked onto her before her vision was even able to focus. Snapping her eye shut at once, her body stiffened, hoping to pass for someone who is still very much asl...
Karessa
My app was read to take off. I was feeling dizzy from all that time staring at a lit-up screen, but it was finally worth it. Karessa was being released in mere minutes and I am sure it will blow up. First, I'll be the one playing their music and managing all the user's requests, but after I make enough money to hire assistants, it'll be their job. My sister was standing on the left, her hand on my shoulder. "Do you really think it will be big,www.onedoor.cc James?" she asked me. I tried to overlook her sudden fear. Jessie had been my audience. My personal cheerleader. Her opinion was the one I valued the mo...
Panoptikon Error 7
Think, but not too much. Devon shuffled along his everyday route from the factory to his apartment, just as the Panoptikon knew he would. The neural band on his wrist showed the dull green line to indicate behavioral normality. Earlier he’d remembered to pick up a tin of condensed milk for his mother, and a minute later a message scrolled across the band’s display: INVENTORY OF MILK LOW. CONSIDER BORROWING FROM ROTHSTEIN. He’d docilely gone along with the suggestion to bother the widower across the hall for the prized commodity. Rothstein only had one mouth to feed, he reasoned. That sentiment...