Excerpt
* * * * *
A chat window popped up on the screen. He just hacked my computer! My fingers flew over the keyboard. I wanted an answer. Now.
CG: Why me, Noah?
REMOTE_USER: You’re special. You’re in a position to understand how precious life is, and what you might be willing to do to keep it.
CG: Cryptic. Vague. Confusing. Partial answer at best.
REMOTE_USER: True. But life is that way. Suffice it to say that you’re uniquely qualified. Besides, you have a great ass.
( o) ( o) - - - - - - (__(__)
Did he just say that?
CG: Is that ASCII art your eyes looking at my butt?
REMOTE_USER: What if it is?
CG: That would be inappropriate, Mr. Sinclair. And it would set a bad tone for the interview. I’ll be there to question you for the people of Earth.
REMOTE_USER: You make it sound like I no longer fall into that category.
CG: Do you?
REMOTE_USER: It’s ninety-eight degrees in there. The mosquitoes are waiting for you to lower your defenses. The “cold” water comes out at eighty degrees. Your bed is a wet mess. You should’ve accepted my offer of lodging.
I flung my arm over my bare chest and crossed my legs. How did he know? Was he watching me? Seeing me naked?
I looked through the blinds, stood up and checked the peephole. Nothing. I sat back down and noticed the camera lens at the top of the screen. Covering my breasts with one arm, I touched the lens. Did he hack into my laptop camera?
CG: Are you watching me?
REMOTE_USER: Yes.
My other arm snapped over my chest. They did the best they could to hold it all in.
CG: That’s totally inappropriate! How?
REMOTE_USER: I’d rather not say.
CG: You hacked my computer camera?
REMOTE_USER: No. But it would be trivial to do. You should cover the lens with black tape.
CG: Don’t hack my computer camera!!!
REMOTE_USER: You have my word.
How else could he be watching me? He was probably bullshitting. He found out where I was and knowing it was hot and infested with mosquitos wasn’t exactly a news flash in Florida. He was messing with me.
CG: If you are watching me, then tell me what I’m wearing.
REMOTE_USER: Isn’t that an inappropriate question, Ms. Gabarro?
CG: Why?
REMOTE_USER: Because you’re naked.
I screamed, jumped into the damp puddle that was my bed and covered myself with sheets. I crept back to the chair, swaddled in clingy fabric.
REMOTE_USER: I apologize. It’s been a long while since I’ve had regular contact with anyone outside my business. It’s entirely possible, even likely, that my compass for socially acceptable behavior is askew.
CG: Stop watching me!
REMOTE_USER: Granted. Now get some sleep. Try sleeping on your side.
CG: I’m quite capable of—
REMOTE_USER: I look forward to your arrival tomorrow. Don’t be late.
( o) ( o) - - - - - - (__(__)
:0
* * * * *
CHAPTER ONE
I lay naked in bed staring at the ceiling. A puddle of sweat pooled in my belly button. Damp sheets stuck to my back like cling wrap never does. The fetid stink of old cigarettes coated the air. I knew I should quit. My doctors said I had a death wish considering my situation.
Coraline, we’re going to fight this. We’re going to give it our best.
Easy for them to say when they’d already lived well passed double my life span, and they’d keep going after I got cut short.
Life gave me death, and hoping it were otherwise wasn’t effective medicine. My desperate wishing hadn’t changed a damn thing. When that failed, I tried bargaining with whichever god might listen. That proved just as effective. As in not in the least. If I wasn’t long for planet Earth, I was going to do what I damn well pleased.
I took a long drag on the cigarette pinched between my fingers. The tip flared and bathed the dark hotel room in a dull orange glow. I smoked low-tar. That was something. My doctors didn’t agree.
I didn’t much care.
The buzz of the oscillating fan on the side table drown out the burning crackle. Hot chemical air filled my
* * * * *
A chat window popped up on the screen. He just hacked my computer! My fingers flew over the keyboard. I wanted an answer. Now.
CG: Why me, Noah?
REMOTE_USER: You’re special. You’re in a position to understand how precious life is, and what you might be willing to do to keep it.
CG: Cryptic. Vague. Confusing. Partial answer at best.
REMOTE_USER: True. But life is that way. Suffice it to say that you’re uniquely qualified. Besides, you have a great ass.
( o) ( o) - - - - - - (__(__)
Did he just say that?
CG: Is that ASCII art your eyes looking at my butt?
REMOTE_USER: What if it is?
CG: That would be inappropriate, Mr. Sinclair. And it would set a bad tone for the interview. I’ll be there to question you for the people of Earth.
REMOTE_USER: You make it sound like I no longer fall into that category.
CG: Do you?
REMOTE_USER: It’s ninety-eight degrees in there. The mosquitoes are waiting for you to lower your defenses. The “cold” water comes out at eighty degrees. Your bed is a wet mess. You should’ve accepted my offer of lodging.
I flung my arm over my bare chest and crossed my legs. How did he know? Was he watching me? Seeing me naked?
I looked through the blinds, stood up and checked the peephole. Nothing. I sat back down and noticed the camera lens at the top of the screen. Covering my breasts with one arm, I touched the lens. Did he hack into my laptop camera?
CG: Are you watching me?
REMOTE_USER: Yes.
My other arm snapped over my chest. They did the best they could to hold it all in.
CG: That’s totally inappropriate! How?
REMOTE_USER: I’d rather not say.
CG: You hacked my computer camera?
REMOTE_USER: No. But it would be trivial to do. You should cover the lens with black tape.
CG: Don’t hack my computer camera!!!
REMOTE_USER: You have my word.
How else could he be watching me? He was probably bullshitting. He found out where I was and knowing it was hot and infested with mosquitos wasn’t exactly a news flash in Florida. He was messing with me.
CG: If you are watching me, then tell me what I’m wearing.
REMOTE_USER: Isn’t that an inappropriate question, Ms. Gabarro?
CG: Why?
REMOTE_USER: Because you’re naked.
I screamed, jumped into the damp puddle that was my bed and covered myself with sheets. I crept back to the chair, swaddled in clingy fabric.
REMOTE_USER: I apologize. It’s been a long while since I’ve had regular contact with anyone outside my business. It’s entirely possible, even likely, that my compass for socially acceptable behavior is askew.
CG: Stop watching me!
REMOTE_USER: Granted. Now get some sleep. Try sleeping on your side.
CG: I’m quite capable of—
REMOTE_USER: I look forward to your arrival tomorrow. Don’t be late.
( o) ( o) - - - - - - (__(__)
:0
* * * * *
CHAPTER ONE
I lay naked in bed staring at the ceiling. A puddle of sweat pooled in my belly button. Damp sheets stuck to my back like cling wrap never does. The fetid stink of old cigarettes coated the air. I knew I should quit. My doctors said I had a death wish considering my situation.
Coraline, we’re going to fight this. We’re going to give it our best.
Easy for them to say when they’d already lived well passed double my life span, and they’d keep going after I got cut short.
Life gave me death, and hoping it were otherwise wasn’t effective medicine. My desperate wishing hadn’t changed a damn thing. When that failed, I tried bargaining with whichever god might listen. That proved just as effective. As in not in the least. If I wasn’t long for planet Earth, I was going to do what I damn well pleased.
I took a long drag on the cigarette pinched between my fingers. The tip flared and bathed the dark hotel room in a dull orange glow. I smoked low-tar. That was something. My doctors didn’t agree.
I didn’t much care.
The buzz of the oscillating fan on the side table drown out the burning crackle. Hot chemical air filled my
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