The thick rug has left a prickly pattern stamped on his face. His head is a pile driver, his tongue a lead slug. Stacy, he grunts. You rang, sir, Stacy says. He blindly flaps his hand in her general direction, which is to say he flaps his hand all over the place. I need some aspirin, he says. Turn your head, Stacy suggests.He does so, and his nose almost topples a bottle of aspirin standing on the carpet next to his head. He raises himself onto his elbows with some difficulty. I'm not going to ask how you did that, he says. As well you shouldn't, Stacy says. I designed you too well.The better for me to serve you, Stacy says, cheerfully.News, please. Stacy activates the video wall. Steven gets to his feet, struggling with the aspirin bottle cap. It comes loose, finally, and he dumps a handful of pills into his hand, and tosses them into his mouth. He chews at his tongue to generate enough saliva to swallow them with. There's water on the table, Stacy says.And so there is. He plops down on the couch and leans forward to pick up the water. Mute, he says, and the news feed goes silent.Anything interesting happening?
What do You think about The Man Who Ended The World?
