flag as inappropriate

Create your own!

      ‘Congratulations,’ I heard Barbie say. ‘We just became an Eastern Seaboard Fission Authority inspection probe...’ That meant we were clearing fiberoptic lines with the cybernetic equivalent of a fire siren, but in the simulation matrix we seemed to rush straight for Midge's data base. I couldn’t see it yet, but I already knew those walls were waiting. Walls of shadow, walls of ice.

‘Son of a bitch,’ said Barbie, ‘we just told Midge we’re an IRS audit and
three Supreme Court subpoenas... Hang on to your ass, Skip...’

So long, Ricky. Maybe now I see you never. And dark, so dark, in the halls of
Midge's ice.