A Fire in Their Eyes #158

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Chapter Twenty-One - Departures

 

A cold wind blew across the crowns of San Francisco's skyscrapers, cutting like a blade through trench coats and sweaters alike. Crow and Rebecca stood on the top deck of the Hilton, nursing steaming coffees and shivering against the wind. A swimming pool nestled between ornamental boulders behind them, a design idea of an out-of-town architect who thought that all of California was sunny and warm. Ravens lighted between the boulders, picking at the debris of last night's cultured cocktail party. Corners of bread, crumbs of cheese, a missing ear ring or two, the birds picked the roof cleaner than the janitors could manage.

 

Crow watched a ferry meander across the bay and noticed that it had also caught Rebecca's eye. He gestured to it. "Ever been on one of the ferries?" Meaningless conversation, it was the glue that held together social gatherings even of only two people.

 

Rebecca shrugged. "I think I went to Alcatraz when I was little, but other than that, no. I'm not from around here remember, I grew up in Nebraska."

 

"They must have loved the mods there." Crow said. "Was it teenage rebellion against the heartland at first? Did your mom wonder why you couldn't have just gotten a tattoo like every other dumb drunk kid?"

 

Rebecca didn't smile, studied the ferry. "It was an internment camp in everything but name. They kept the families and children of cyborgs close. They never trusted any of us."

 

"Sorry." Crow said quietly.

 

A silence fell over the roof and Crow took the time to study his coffee intently, counting the bubbles clinging to the surface. Rebecca broke the silence after a few minutes with false cheer.

 

"So is there a reason we're freezing our asses off up here instead of being somewhere civilized with heaters?" Rebecca asked.

 

Crow shrugged and smiled. "I think my room's bugged."

 

Rebecca raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Little full of yourself aren't you?"

 

"It's less depressing than low self esteem." Crow said. He slushed his coffee around in slow circles, until a whirlpool's edges touched the rim of the paper cup. "What do you say we get Green Eyes out?"

 

"He won't go for it." Rebecca said without hesitation and then blushed slightly. "You were there the first time I went for it and he hasn't budged a bit. He can be quite stubborn."

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A place for the assorted ramblings and fiction of Steven Lloyd Wilson, but to be more specific:
  • Burning Violin: A weekly column, posted every Friday.
  • Singed Couplets: Shorter and more informal pieces put up semi-irregularly with highly unpredicatable frequency.
  • A Fire in Their Eyes: A science fiction novel about the rise of artificial intelligence in the near future. The rough equivalent of 2 print pages is published Mon, Tue, Wed, Thu each week.
  • Katorga: A science fiction novel crossing Heinlein with Solzhenitsyn. Available for purchase in either trade paperback or for the Kindle. If you buy it, I get to eat this week.

About this Entry

This page contains a single entry by Steven Lloyd Wilson published on January 7, 2010 6:00 AM.

A Fire in Their Eyes #157 was the previous entry in this blog.

A Fire in Their Eyes #159 is the next entry in this blog.

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