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There’s a saying in the army: hurry up and wait. That’s how we live our lives.
We’re pursuing a node of the Bureau for Chaos that’s responsible for hijacking a fleet of self-driving cars.
Then I see movement in my periphery. I look up just in time to see a lone figure in a hoodie grab something out of one of the computers. I shout out in Russian, and he makes a break for the tunnel.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had that dream, and I wish I could gouge that memory out of my brain.
It’s funny how quickly patriotism can slide into the territory of national embarrassment.
I’m the only one who survived.
It’s my old captain, Beau Humphrey.
That’s the beauty and the curse of New York City — it takes a lot to get people’s attention.
“It’s 2075, for cryin’ out loud. People don’t read anymore. They’re only consuming immersive content.”
Re-watching the entire thing at the café, I’m stunned by my own vitriol. It’s raw, unfiltered, and totally insane. It isn’t Layla, but it sure is me.
“Come to the office tomorrow at nine. We’ll be able to answer any of your questions.”
Either I’m a dead girl walking, or I’ve just been offered the chance of a lifetime.
A soldier is the only thing you want to be — the only thing you can be.
“Maverick Enterprises is cornering the market on space tourism and galactic living. We’re disrupting space travel by making it safe, comfortable, and accessible, but our biggest project over the past five years has been developing the first low-orbit space colony designed to be inhabited by civilians.”
“As I said, Maverick Enterprises is a private global corporation whose mission is the peaceful advancement of science and technology.”
when I recount my meeting with Natalie.
She had a nda wtf
open the door, and the scent of burnt casserole and passive aggression meets my nostrils.
a very attractive, very familiar man sidles toward me down the aisle.
I’m not sure what I did to deserve a free flight to space with a cannabis-infused tonic and an underwear model, but I’m not going to question my karma.
I’m sitting next to the man whose company I blasted all over Topfold.
Suddenly, I’m back in that Siberian tunnel — buried alive under a mound of rock. I can’t move. I can’t breathe, and I get the feeling that my ear drums might burst.
So far Elderon sounds a lot like Disneyland.
“Ping me if your suite isn’t to your liking . . . You can always come by mine if you feel like stretching out on a California king.”
That’s kinda flirty
The doors slide open, and I step into what looks like a mall from the future.
“Our job is to stay one step ahead of the enemy. Catastrophes can happen when you least expect them.”
Very ominous
He’s gotta be Darth Vader with an AP Stylebook.
“I just want to know what portion of Maverick personnel would be classified as military.”
Keep it palatable. Did you take a shit in microgravity? What’s it like to shower in space? How’s the food? Take our followers on a space walk this week. Use your imagination.”
“I meant what I said. Officially, all I want is Layla Jones for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
“Oh, I do,” he says with gusto. “I read and watch everything you do.”
“I can’t have the prettiest girl in space starving on my watch.”
“Unless you wanted to come by my suite later for some fun that would be strictly off the record?”
“Tell you what . . . Why don’t you stop by my office tonight around seven-ish — no funny business — and I’ll get you whatever documentation you want.”
He reaches up into the cubby over his bed, and I try not to stare at his magnificent ass. It’s hard to do when it’s right there in front of me, and I have the urge to give it a smack.
A hundred and eighty people plus all the men and women who came in on my shuttle seems excessive for a peaceful colony whose purpose is scientific exploration.
“Oh, we’re super into colorology around here. Orange stimulates ambition and excitement. It promotes quick decision-making and keeps energy levels high.”
“Trust me . . . Nobody does defense like a trillion-dollar tech company.”
I can’t have my squad thinking that I’m their friend. My authority would be shot.
Jonah’s eyes narrow into slits, and they travel up and down my entire body. It’s kind of hot in a dangerous, bad-boy kind of way, but I feel myself start to sweat.
Jonah’s litany of punishments and insults is so repetitive that I begin to wonder if he’s a bot.
The recruits who excel at this obstacle are light and speedy, and he moves like a rhinoceros trapped in a vat of peanut butter.
There’s something off about Maggie Jones. I just can’t put my finger on it.
I want to slap him and screw him — all at the same time — but you don’t mouth off to your sergeant and expect to keep your position.
My mouth falls open. I know that move. It’s the same exact elbow Maggie used on me — the one I showed her with the SPIDER.
Someone has me by the hair. I stumble back onto my heels and try to scream bloody murder, but my attacker jams something soft in my mouth.
Buford seems to lose all patience. He doesn’t care if he hurts me. He wants to see me dead.
He’s wearing an Orlando Magic jersey and a pair of high-top sneakers.
Still wearing this in 2075 nice
This woman isn’t a hostess — not a real one, anyway. She’s a BlumBot creation unlike any I’ve ever seen.
She’s the next generation of artificial life, and she is indistinguishable from a human.
