plastic bag from his pocket and ties it above his head. He’s out of chocolate. He’s out of luck. He pats the dog’s head.
* * * * *
Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s stories have appeared in publications such as Fantasy Magazine, Tesseracts Thirteen and Shine: An Anthology of Optimistic Science Fiction. She is the owner of Innsmouth Free Press, a micro-publishing venture specializing in horror and dark speculative fiction, and through Innsmouth she has co-edited the anthologies Historical Lovecraft and Candle in the Attic Window. She has written a couple of stories set in a near-future Mexico where vampires are real and hopes to write a novel which takes place in the same universe.
V-Link
By Eileen Bell
I love Vlad the Impaler!
The words floated in, a warm spot in Roslyn’s mind. It was Gina, with information.
Roslyn pretended to pay attention to Dr. Erickson, who was standing right by her bed. She watched his lips move as Gina’s voice crawled around in her head, giving her the up-to-date about the U-Link implant patients. Everybody was getting weaker by the day. Roger and Cassidy were still off the grid. In other words, no good news.
She muttered “uh huh,” like she was listening to the doctor, then felt the small warm spark in her brain as she responded to Gina.
Can’t talk long, Erickson’s here. Who’s Vlad?
Original vampire or something. A real bad ass, apparently. But anybody with Impaler in his name couldn’t be all good, now could he?
Gina was being held in a university and actually had access to a library, so she could look stuff up. Dead tree technology, but at least it was something.
The rest of them were in hospitals all across the country, with no access to the outside, or to each other. At least, that’s what the doctors believed when they shut down the wireless network to disconnect everyone fitted with Version 1.0 of the U-Link implant.
U-Link. Before their surgeries, Roslyn and the rest had been told it would be the next great networking system.
Roslyn touched the IV cannula sprouting from her chest, into which would soon spew the latest chemical stew, and wondered if maybe this time she should have waited for Version 2.0. The one that didn’t shut down all your internal organs one by one until all you had left was your brain.
Dr. Erickson grabbed her foot and she jumped. Not that it hurt — it didn’t, her nerves didn’t carry pain messages the way they used to — he had just surprised her. She cut the connection to Gina and glared at him. “What?”
“Are you having difficulty focusing?” He looked anxious. “Maybe another CT scan—”
“No,” she snapped. “My brain’s not shutting down. I’m ignoring you. I only ever asked for two things, Dr. E. Saying no about the blood, all right, I get that, but no computer? That’s BS and you know it.”
She almost added that the V-Link — the name Gina had coined when the U-Link patients spontaneously reconnected — wasn’t enough anymore. That she missed her old friends, and her mother, and her life. But she clamped her mouth shut before those words slipped out. He didn’t need to know about the V-Link. That was their little secret.
His expression went from anxious to almost angry. “Those are the rules. You know them as well as I do. Now, pay attention, please. We are going to change your regimen—”
“Again?” she whined, hating the weak sound of it. “Why?”
“Remarkable advances were made at the New Hampshire facility—”
“What advances?” Roger and Cassidy were in New Hampshire.
She clawed at the blankets until Erickson helped her sit upright. “Have you been out of bed today?” he asked.
“No. Tell me what happened in New Hampshire.”
“You must exercise.” He pointed to the hated walker, the scorch mark visible on the side. “Your muscles are atrophying—”
“Thinner’s better,” she quipped. When he didn’t laugh, she went serious, too. “I’m not taking the chance. Not after
* * * * *
Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s stories have appeared in publications such as Fantasy Magazine, Tesseracts Thirteen and Shine: An Anthology of Optimistic Science Fiction. She is the owner of Innsmouth Free Press, a micro-publishing venture specializing in horror and dark speculative fiction, and through Innsmouth she has co-edited the anthologies Historical Lovecraft and Candle in the Attic Window. She has written a couple of stories set in a near-future Mexico where vampires are real and hopes to write a novel which takes place in the same universe.
V-Link
By Eileen Bell
I love Vlad the Impaler!
The words floated in, a warm spot in Roslyn’s mind. It was Gina, with information.
Roslyn pretended to pay attention to Dr. Erickson, who was standing right by her bed. She watched his lips move as Gina’s voice crawled around in her head, giving her the up-to-date about the U-Link implant patients. Everybody was getting weaker by the day. Roger and Cassidy were still off the grid. In other words, no good news.
She muttered “uh huh,” like she was listening to the doctor, then felt the small warm spark in her brain as she responded to Gina.
Can’t talk long, Erickson’s here. Who’s Vlad?
Original vampire or something. A real bad ass, apparently. But anybody with Impaler in his name couldn’t be all good, now could he?
Gina was being held in a university and actually had access to a library, so she could look stuff up. Dead tree technology, but at least it was something.
The rest of them were in hospitals all across the country, with no access to the outside, or to each other. At least, that’s what the doctors believed when they shut down the wireless network to disconnect everyone fitted with Version 1.0 of the U-Link implant.
U-Link. Before their surgeries, Roslyn and the rest had been told it would be the next great networking system.
Roslyn touched the IV cannula sprouting from her chest, into which would soon spew the latest chemical stew, and wondered if maybe this time she should have waited for Version 2.0. The one that didn’t shut down all your internal organs one by one until all you had left was your brain.
Dr. Erickson grabbed her foot and she jumped. Not that it hurt — it didn’t, her nerves didn’t carry pain messages the way they used to — he had just surprised her. She cut the connection to Gina and glared at him. “What?”
“Are you having difficulty focusing?” He looked anxious. “Maybe another CT scan—”
“No,” she snapped. “My brain’s not shutting down. I’m ignoring you. I only ever asked for two things, Dr. E. Saying no about the blood, all right, I get that, but no computer? That’s BS and you know it.”
She almost added that the V-Link — the name Gina had coined when the U-Link patients spontaneously reconnected — wasn’t enough anymore. That she missed her old friends, and her mother, and her life. But she clamped her mouth shut before those words slipped out. He didn’t need to know about the V-Link. That was their little secret.
His expression went from anxious to almost angry. “Those are the rules. You know them as well as I do. Now, pay attention, please. We are going to change your regimen—”
“Again?” she whined, hating the weak sound of it. “Why?”
“Remarkable advances were made at the New Hampshire facility—”
“What advances?” Roger and Cassidy were in New Hampshire.
She clawed at the blankets until Erickson helped her sit upright. “Have you been out of bed today?” he asked.
“No. Tell me what happened in New Hampshire.”
“You must exercise.” He pointed to the hated walker, the scorch mark visible on the side. “Your muscles are atrophying—”
“Thinner’s better,” she quipped. When he didn’t laugh, she went serious, too. “I’m not taking the chance. Not after
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