Cynda sat facing the door. “Paranoid?” Defoe suggested. “Hell, yes,” she declared, plopping her hat on the table. “Aren’t you?” “Sometimes.” He ordered tea and cake, his words brusque. Meanwhile, her delusion shambled across the table and parked himself next to a sugar bowl. He had a fascination with those for some reason. “So what’s going on here?” she asked once the server puttered off. Defoe held up a hand for silence, then opened his interface and positioned it on the table. “It’s set to dampen our conversation. You’d have to be standing on top of us to overhear us.” It was a clever trick. To a Victorian, it would look like he was just overly concerned about the time. “More of Morrisey’s fancy software?” “Exactly.” Nevertheless, he lowered his voice. “We are experiencing a power struggle between our time and the future. Now is the battleground.” “Morrissey said now was very unstable.” “Extremely, or Sergeant Keats wouldn’t be facing the noose.”
What do You think about Time Rovers 03 Madman's Dance?
