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incandescensA nice day. A cool day. A day when I got some writing done. A day which involved ice cream and bananas for supper.
Pity tomorrow's Monday.
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“Gentlemen,” Irene said, drawing on all her resources of inner calm and peace to prevent herself from shouting at them to act like adults and stop being idiots. Simon was coping remarkably well for his age – probably he was already a trained junior agent, or something – and Kai was always tense when he was protecting her. She just had to set a good example, and come up with a plan with what to do if – no, assume when – the reanimated broke through the door. “Simon, what do you know about the mechanised reanimated?”
Simon looked flattered to be considered an expert. “Well, miss, if they’re like the ones that were in the Boy’s Own Paper, then someone took these corpses and filled them full of unholy embalming fluid and then drove electrodes into their brains and into their vertebrates, and then they raised them from the dead and programmed instructions into their dead brains and sent them out to eat the flesh of the living. It was their brains usually, miss. The living, that is. And then this heroic doctor who’d resigned from the army found them lurking under Whitechapel and he lured them into a trap and cut off their heads with a surgical saw.”
Pity tomorrow's Monday.
---
“Gentlemen,” Irene said, drawing on all her resources of inner calm and peace to prevent herself from shouting at them to act like adults and stop being idiots. Simon was coping remarkably well for his age – probably he was already a trained junior agent, or something – and Kai was always tense when he was protecting her. She just had to set a good example, and come up with a plan with what to do if – no, assume when – the reanimated broke through the door. “Simon, what do you know about the mechanised reanimated?”
Simon looked flattered to be considered an expert. “Well, miss, if they’re like the ones that were in the Boy’s Own Paper, then someone took these corpses and filled them full of unholy embalming fluid and then drove electrodes into their brains and into their vertebrates, and then they raised them from the dead and programmed instructions into their dead brains and sent them out to eat the flesh of the living. It was their brains usually, miss. The living, that is. And then this heroic doctor who’d resigned from the army found them lurking under Whitechapel and he lured them into a trap and cut off their heads with a surgical saw.”
