SM Unit 1-18T

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Sanctuary.

She initiated her sign language password. And the big screen monitor morphed from its midnight saver into reflector mode.  She stretched her mouth wide open.  She smiled.  She frowned.  Squeezed her eyes shut until she could feel the humming in her ears.  Inhaled a deep breath.  Then let her face go stone cold.  Her body stirred in precise deliberate movements, while her voice went into an automated mode of commands and responses.  At length she felt secure with her superficial exercise.  She scoffed at her uniform.  Her plastic metal guise.  She blew a kiss at the mirror and her image disappeared into its rekindled blackness.

SM Unit 1-18T.

Time to get my act together. 

(From the short story White Box)

fall of Terramaya?

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Himmwast the Gypsy

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…Another unsympathetic clamp to his head yanked him upright and posed him for the Gypsy’s convergence.  Removing a web of precious beads from one of her hilts, Himmwast draped her amulet over his navel and incanted to him eye to eye.  “Entrails be in.”

A maroon bandeau, wholly shimmering with a print of swimming tadpoles, completely mantled her unfeathered skull.  From a forehead clasp there hung a gleaming zircon in front of her right ____

Her right eye.  It was missing!  No, not missing.  There was no socket to contain it.  Only a natural unaltered surface of flesh.  His vision was locked there.  For a moment he imagined himself standing in some outlandish desert.  It was night.  Very overcast.  No stellar campfires.  And in the gloomy distance the contour of several baleful minarets was heightened by a faint acraviolet glow…

(From ChaulE: Round of the Holy Well)