He was an ugly man, his cheeks were pitted and spider-webbed with some awful untreated backwater disease. I suppose Urundi would need cloned skin (and a trip to a hospital on Earth) to make his face handsome again. He wasn’t actually ugly, since his eyes were intelligent and alert and full of good humor. He seemed like he would have smiled easily if he were not talking about the somber facts of an unusually grim case... Read more...
The night’s first couple walks in: a man of about 35, with a domestic administrative model. The administrative machine is a newer model, one with the fresh antigravity stabilizers. The machine is configured to make the device fit into an office environment that is pretty heavily seeded with biologic types. For me, I wish they would dress a little more sassily to come in, as it might perk up the business a bit, but I really fail to care.... Read more...
I sliced my hand up pretty good when me and Mike were hauling sheet metal to the docks. I didn’t have insurance, so I bandaged it with an oiled rag. Mike took off his wife-beater to help tie it off. That was the kind of guy he was. Gore never bothered him. A drug dealer got gutshot down by Ferry Avenue, and Mike held the kid’s intestines in until the paramedics came. He died before they got there though. When I asked him why he even bothered, he just shrugged and said, “He was my boy.”... Read more...
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