Posted: March 18, 2014 in Flash Fiction, Science Fiction

Dayland was afraid. I didn’t need a machine to know that. His precious wall of monitors showed only snow or the blank blue screen of death. He dialed 911, but when his cell said, “We’re sorry. Service is temporarily unavailable,” the voice he heard was my own. As my eyes dilated, the rheostats controlling the lights compensated. When I breathed the air purifiers breathed with me. He backed away and the cameras in the corners tracked his movements. “Maybe the next time you kidnap orphans and put things inside their heads you’ll make sure they stay dead when you’re done with them,” I smiled and closed my eyes. The tiny microchip embedded in Dayland’s myocardial cortex misfired. Dayland fell, dead before he hit the floor.


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