She holstered her pistol. Picking up an empty electrolyte bottle, she hurled and came very close to striking the rat. After it disappeared down the hall, toward her bedroom, she began to strip. Her skin was clammy and she could smell herself. She dropped her clothes onto the floor in a pile. Now standing in nothing but her underwear, she called for the immersion chair. It came to life in an aura of soft blue lights. She could see the cushions were black with grime, her grime. She climbed in.

All he wanted was time. Is that so much to ask?

As she lifted her hair and laid her head back, the sync cable, highly magnetized, snapped into the receiver at the base of her neck. She rested her palms on sensor plates that were slick with residue and closed her eyes.

The rat could...

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