He crossed seventy feet and died—erased by the Citadel for wanting stew. But Silvia fed him anyway, setting a milk crate table with Berkeley Pier chowder and love. In seventy feet, he lost his name and found his family.Continue Reading
She’s mine. I don’t care what the Hive says. I’ll walk through every door until I have her.Continue Reading
Damian knelt outside his tent, flicking the butane stove to life. “Want it hot?” he asked, holding out the pouch. Inger didn’t answer. She snatched the pho from his hand, tore the seal with her teeth. The scent of dried shiitake and star anise hit the air. She sat cross-legged, chewing—no spoon, no water, no ceremony. He watched, unsure if he’d just been insulted or initiated.Continue Reading
They call it triage, but it’s really the Peel Room—where autonomous humanoid robots like Mikako and Takuma are stripped of their silicone skins and routed for refurbishment or scrap. MKW110732 is back because her five-year lease wasn’t renewed. The return receipt reads: “customer’s requested persona overlay glitchy.” Damian logs her, tags her, and wheels her across the shop floor. She greets Mateo in Zapotec. Mateo hears sass. Damian hears snack cakes.Continue Reading
Damian boards a submarine to escape arrest—but finds himself self-incarcerated in a debtors’ brig run by Saito-Gumi. What begins as a rescue becomes a reckoning. Surveillance, ritual, and the economics of dignity collide in this speculative arc set east of Richmond.Continue Reading
Sacrilege was served hot. Soup—thick with hominy, dried chilis, and joy—bubbled beside the manifesto. Someone brought ketchup. Someone said “meh.” And suddenly, the poopie face hour was in session.Continue Reading
The Hive didn’t catch the murder first. Mrs. Callow did—with garden lights, an analog heart, and habits too stubborn to forget. Jace’s blood had already dried across the truck’s dash, and Inger hadn’t heard a thing. By the time Morrow rang her bell, the street had pressure-washed its guilt and gone quiet again. Mikiko made coffee. Morrow asked questions. Inger reached for her binkie in Buckskin and tried to remember why grief felt heavier when silence followed it.Continue Reading
Damian, soaked and haunted, collapses into the 黒豹 submarine’s mess deck as Mikako, a 2125 robot styled like an alley café girl, watches with cold curiosity. With police drones fading and the AI’s cryptic warnings blaring, is this salvation or a trap? Dive into this wild escape where loyalty and chaos collide—read on!Continue Reading
Damian Holt roars down I-70 East in a biohazard-tagged Escalade, AR lenses glowing with obsession. Paradise Valley fades, Manchester’s decayed streets loom, and a deadly dash awaits at 1107 East 16th Street. Inger’s rejection fuels his grip on a 1975 pocket knife, bloodlust simmering beneath the surface.Continue Reading
Dope Fan cribs, totally chill, hide gnarly vibes. Damian squats in Inger’s pad, rigs Charlie’s gear, streams easy—40 hours of MMORPG grind, yo. Black Hand Coffee fuels his chill with Bunny Ayu, but Tala’s comin’ Continue Reading