More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Where they don’t, slaves wander the fields with fat plastic pouches strapped to their backs, like pregnant women trapped in reverse.
She doesn’t slow down, glare fixed on her target. Hooves kick on plasteel, then air, as she sails over the water, a meteor, malevolent. Vesper points, delighted. ‘G—’ Her shadow falls across the Vagrant who turns, too slow to escape fate. ‘—oat!’ Man becomes crash mat and the boat rocks, water spraying up, dappling faces.
