‘It was Thursday and the world was raining bile. I remember looking at the ruins of the downtown strip and marveling at what might have been. Sensing my hesitation, she put a hand on my shoulder. I felt her lips on my neck.’

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Damn those hips. They went on forever.

I remember laying beneath her and watching her breasts bounce with every thrust.

Fuck me — she was better than any real girl.

I started on the H1 back in August. It was a well-paying gig. I mean that. I got enough credit to cover my rent and nutritional supplements, and I still had something left over for recreation.

Every morning I’d get up at 4:30am, and the world outside would be inky and black. I’d shower and then I’d stand in front of the Viewer. A pale blue light scanned over me. There would be a sequence of judgmental bleeps, followed by a readout.

Every morning the Viewer would supply a new set of requirements.

Sit-ups. Jumping jacks. Crunches. Squats. I’d do pull-ups in the door or I’d run 5 kilometers on the treadmill. The blue light watched the entire thing. It monitored my heart rate and listening in on those private vibrations emanating from my skull.

Eventually, it would beep loudly and announce: PREPARATIONS COMPLETE.

I ate the provided supplements. Then I inserted the enpheodomine rod into the outlet on the back of my skull and I waited, hands tight on my knees, eyes closed, shoulders squared, for the initiation phase.

When the alert came I’d leave to the recon pad. I’d join the unit. We would be dressed in our combat greens and loaded one by one into the dark transporter. My docking number was 61. When the Viewer shifted to green I’d lean back into the chair and shut my eyes. I’d let the simulation take me —

God damn her hips.

Her fucking hips.

They’d rock to the sound of Jimmy Page and my dick would spasm.

Every building was a nightmare of blood. We gunned down those miserable intoxicants without discrimination. I had learned, first hand, what hesitation bought —

I’d think of her and when the recon collected us I’d lean back into the dock and rejoin the hallucination.

* * *

On Monday I vomited alkaline blood into the stainless steel receptacle. She stood behind me, those damn hips swayed to one side and I loved her. Dammit, I loved her. She ran her hands over my shoulders and whispered my name in my ear.

“You’re amazing,” she purred, and her voice was silk

That night she made me scream, and in the morning I docked again.

* * *

It was Thursday and the world was raining bile. I remember looking at the ruins of the downtown strip and marveling at what might have been. Sensing my hesitation, she put a hand on my shoulder. I felt her lips on my neck.

That night we entered one of their makeshift sanctuaries. I unloaded 2809 rounds. I smelt dust and copper and steel and I thought of those damn hips.

“You’re amazing,” she purred, and I felt a shiver up our spine.

* * *

They cut a trail up the A1, before turning sharply down East King Edward Avenue. We followed, our bikes kicking up hot dust and filth from the street 10 meters beneath us.

“Kill them and fuck me,” she purred, and I saw those hips swaying in that white space behind my eyes.

“Babe. Anything,” I whispered, and I felt her grab me. Her terrible, long fingers pulled at my mind and I saw, with grim clarity, my targets. They had slowed at a turnpike. There were shapes huddled in the shadows and my mark had hesitated at the sight of them.

I opened fire.

* * *

Those god damn hips.

Those god damn hips. They bounced and rutted and the woman gasped beneath him. I think she was my wife once. My wife. When I think of her my mind goes white until I think of nothing at all.

“You love me.” she purred, and that voiced rolled over me like honey, “You want me.”

* * *

It’s late and the moon hangs shattered over English Bay. The sight of it disgusts me. I remember the boardwalk. I remember nothing.

* * *

We chased down a hive of vermin. They were huddled beneath a section of the Skytrain. Our squad leader called me east and I circled around. We were in position and when I heard him shout we opened fire. Our rifles punched holes through thick tin and metal.

I saw her. She was young and beautiful; with dark hair and wide, terrible eyes.

I saw her and I hated her.

* * *

“This way. Do it this way.” she purred, her ass in the air.

That morning I woke up stiff and nauseous. There was another tooth on my pillow. I saw her face in the back of my head, betraying a sick, nauseous hole in my self.

She had been young and pretty, with straight black hair and dark eyes. She’d adored the sound of Gordon Downie. I used to play them as I drove the Trans-Canada from Vancouver to Medicine Hat.

* * *

“I love you more,” she whined, and I kissed her deeply

That night we executed another sanctuary. The moon shimmered in seven pieces overhead and I figured it had gotten off easy. It had become something new.

We were all the same.

* * *

I woke up panting, my bed soaked in sweat and my dick hard beneath the sheets. I spat up blood and mucus while I showered, and then I stood in front of the pale blue light of the Viewer.

“Babe — you look amazing,” she purred, and I flashed her a gummy smile.

The Viewer demanded a set of 20 crunches. Followed by as many sit-ups. Followed by as many pull-ups. After that, it was 45 minutes on the track.

Finally, she kissed me on the mouth and said, “We have another one for you.”