Unnamed Journal Volume 2, Issue 5 - Page 8

The Filth of Living receipt sent to High Command before Turner was done. They would be well paid for tonights work. Turner could practically smell the spas. When he got inside, Turner held up the head of the white female to Maxi. "For you," he said. Maxi laughed and set it down on her console while she helped Turner out of his gear. "That's contraband," said Gore, with a furrowed brow. "You're contraband," said Maxi. When he had his armor off, Turner didn't get undressed right away. He sat in an undershirt and boxer shorts in a seat with disintegrated upholstery that no longer adjusted for lumbar support. He felt entirely at ease in his sweat, and Maxi had only smiles for him as she plugged wires and nodes into the cybbie's spine. At last she got it wired properly, and the eyes of the head came open. It blinked in confusion for a second or two, and then looked around itself with its lips curling up in abhorrence. "Ew," it said. "You people." "Hello, my lovely," said Maxi. "You get to be our mascot now." "You're disgusting," said the head. "We're filthy," said Maxi. "We're alive," said Turner. "You're over," said the head. "You're refuse. We are humanity now. We are the future." Maxi flicked the things forehead, and she repeated herself: "We are the future." Maxi did that five or six more times, and each time the head that looked like a female human but was really part of a cybernetic hive mind just kept repeating "We are the future...We are the future...We are the future..." They laughed as the battle wagon drove through the warrens in the inky night. UJ