Weregild

"He's awfully late," said Rek, pacing.

The door chimed and the foyer-vid cut on, though it still only displayed static.

"See?" said Triv. "Speak of the devil."

Rek gestured the door open. A hulking form stood outside, sensor lights flickering in the black nodule at its chest. Its matte surface gave back no light. A Viceroy.

"Oh," said Rek. "Oh." She sank to her knees.

"Hira Sebi was selected for transmission," the Viceroy said. "Please accept compensation." It pressed a chit into Rek's hand. Her fingers closed convulsively around it.

The Viceroy glided away in silence. The door spiraled shut.

New Wave

“What are you guys doing?”

Zini was lying on the floor with a book across her face. Syd rested her chin on the coffee table, staring fixedly at an immobile snowglobe. Kev had his face pressed into the corner and his hands cupped at his ears.

“Oh, hi, Sam,” said Logan. He was kneeling by the couch, one ear against the upholstered arm. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” said Sam warily. “You?”

“Just listening, man.”

Sam looked around. “Uh-huh.”

“Aren’t you listening to anything?”

“My iPod, when I jog.”

Logan actually sneered. “Man, get with the times. There’s music in everything.”