Since I’ve been putting some snippets of fiction in here I thought I’d dump this one in too; it amuses me because I just found it as an e-mail draft to myself in 2005 and completely forget writing it at all, or what it is about.

Some old stories like this are worth going back to, to try to finish.  I’d say… those are the ones I actually vaguely remember. I have a tale about a man named Woodbridge that I really sincerely want to finish.

This isn’t it.
~~~~~~~~~

“You can’t do that. You… just can’t do that. This is insane – those are children!” She knew she had the backing of the Mission. But he could be working for Weregeld for all she knew. She hoped he was – maybe they could finally get some answers.

“They are not genetically pure.” His voice was bland.

“OF COURSE they aren’t! No one is! Listen…”

“I am Order.” He cut the connection.

She cursed in frustration and cycled frequencies trying to reestablish the link. If this really was Order… a neural connection would be deadly. Or worse. She grew cold at the thought of those children. Would he perfect them? Could they survive it? The others hadn’t. Their noetic patterns were so changed they didn’t look like anything… anything living.

“Take it easy, Hunter – we’ve dispatched an F unit already…”

“I won’t take it easy! Get me a D unit too – he’ll slaughter them!” Send me. Send me.

“Hunter you do not call the shots here!” He spun her chair so she faced him. “And I am not sending you. I may only be borderline but your ems are off the chart. Downshift Beta. Now.”

She knew he was right, of course. She paused to realign her mental state. That was where Order had everyone beaten: no emotions. The scanners read him as less than an AI.

Tags: fiction, sci-fi, unfinished, writing