Another concussive burst exploded before him. A dizzying spinning spiral of white and black. Then nothing.
The cheap visualization of the heads-up display was worthless before the onslaught. Lux lost consciousness, overtaken by infinite space. The vast emptiness surrounded him, the pressure of it squeezing his temples. He could feel his blood pounding, though he was now disembodied, detached from anything physical, trapped within the nightmare of an endless abyss.
When he came to, his HUD still off, he was seated in a reclining position in front of a window overlooking the dark strip of the river and the University campus beyond. Straps held him down in his seat. He strained against them, tested their tension. His bionic right arm was paralyzed and numb, locked in place behind him.
The lights were down, and he could see the room behind him in the reflection of the great window. A silhouette outlined immediately behind his chair.
“Welcome,” said the figure, a man. “You are my strongest catch yet.” His voice quivered. “I’ve had so many bums. So many vagrants. Burnt out. Crazy. Weak. But you…”
“I’m strong,” said Lux, pressing against his restraints again.
“Correct. Now stand.” The belts around his arms released.
Lux swung his feet to the floor and turned to face his captor, trying to pull his right arm free. But it refused his command, and he lost his balance. He fell to the ground in a heap.
The man leaned forward. He was tan and athletic, though the wrinkles about his eyes betrayed his age. It was Morris McDonald.