they spread,” Ilsa said, “or they'd have had a repeat of Plavinas Incubation. A quarter-million fetuses, gone in moments.”
“Unbelievable,” Lizabet Balozi said.
* * *
“Unbelievable,” Maris Peterson said.
Ilsa threw her head back and laughed, the magnacar swerving into traffic. Eggs on a conveyer belt moved more quickly, everyone heading home. Their two-seater squirmed toward the HOV lane, where they moved a bit faster. They still faced a three-hour ride back to the hotel.
Ilsa peeled out of her disguise. “Tint the windows, darling.”
He did so, and she peeled out of her clothes too.
Later, he kissed her on the shoulder. “You're incredible.”
She groaned and wedged herself more firmly against him. “So were you.”
“No, I mean back there, with Balozi. How'd you do that?”
“It wasn't all my doing. Without your bitter, she wouldn't have chosen my sweet.”
“Anyone would choose your sweet, my sweet.” He buried his face into her neck, swilling her companionship deeply, parched from years of desolate loneliness. The magnacar hummed happily along the thoroughfare, night now nigh, evening outers sparse in the mid-week gloaming.
He reached for his clothes, his corn alerting him to multiple messages from Lieutenant Balodis. Balozi and Balodis, he thought, what a pair.
Maris hadn't expected Lizabet Balozi to receive them personally. Such micromanagement was beneath the CEOs of most multiplanetary companies. He'd resigned himself to a career of badgering middle managers, a breed of creature comfortable with evasion and plausible deniability, little accustomed to real responsibility. Birds of such rarified air as Balozi baffled his blunderbuss approach.
Neuratronic installation was fairly straightforward. Multiple program-limited nanochine modules were injected through the carotid, sliding through the blood-brain barrier by masking themselves as lipid-soluble molecules, avoiding astrocytes and migrating their attached components into place through extracellular fluid. From these components, the nanochines built a neuranet interface assembly near the thalamus and constructed optichannels of hexo-silica rings to connect nano-assemblies behind the eye, beneath the ear, and near the tracheal junction. The assembly behind the eye modulated optic nerve signals to the thalamus, while the assembly just beneath the ear modulated the cochlear nerve signals, blending in output from the neuranet interface. The tracheal junction assembly, which modulated the signal going to the trachea, diverted speech in the form of electrical output to the neuranet, leaving the trachea with trace signals from the cerebellum, the reason some people appeared to be talking to themselves while on their trakes. The neuranet assembly near the thalamus outputted signals to the corn and coke, while signals from the trake were output to the neuranet. Any decryption or encryption, neura-mail retrieval and storage, or channel switching, was handled by the neuranet interface.
Interconnected with corn, coke, trake, and neuranet interface was the mastoid jack, the short name for the socket installed in the processus mastoideus bone just above the soft tissues of the neck right behind the ear. Only the exterior rim of the mastoid jack was installed manually. Program-limited nanochines installed all the other components, including hexo-silica optichannels to the thalamus, hypothalamus, amygdala, and hippocampus. Paired with the output from the neuranet interface assembly, a mastoid jack might supply a person with full sensual surround, taking complete control of all sensory input modes, including the gustatory, tactile, and olfactory senses, facilitating an all-senses plunge into an immersie or a complete and total cluster-jerk.
The age of installation had grown earlier and earlier, particularly in the last twenty years. Research was mixed on the question of pre-pubescent versus post-pubescent installation, various factions arguing over
“Unbelievable,” Lizabet Balozi said.
* * *
“Unbelievable,” Maris Peterson said.
Ilsa threw her head back and laughed, the magnacar swerving into traffic. Eggs on a conveyer belt moved more quickly, everyone heading home. Their two-seater squirmed toward the HOV lane, where they moved a bit faster. They still faced a three-hour ride back to the hotel.
Ilsa peeled out of her disguise. “Tint the windows, darling.”
He did so, and she peeled out of her clothes too.
Later, he kissed her on the shoulder. “You're incredible.”
She groaned and wedged herself more firmly against him. “So were you.”
“No, I mean back there, with Balozi. How'd you do that?”
“It wasn't all my doing. Without your bitter, she wouldn't have chosen my sweet.”
“Anyone would choose your sweet, my sweet.” He buried his face into her neck, swilling her companionship deeply, parched from years of desolate loneliness. The magnacar hummed happily along the thoroughfare, night now nigh, evening outers sparse in the mid-week gloaming.
He reached for his clothes, his corn alerting him to multiple messages from Lieutenant Balodis. Balozi and Balodis, he thought, what a pair.
Maris hadn't expected Lizabet Balozi to receive them personally. Such micromanagement was beneath the CEOs of most multiplanetary companies. He'd resigned himself to a career of badgering middle managers, a breed of creature comfortable with evasion and plausible deniability, little accustomed to real responsibility. Birds of such rarified air as Balozi baffled his blunderbuss approach.
Neuratronic installation was fairly straightforward. Multiple program-limited nanochine modules were injected through the carotid, sliding through the blood-brain barrier by masking themselves as lipid-soluble molecules, avoiding astrocytes and migrating their attached components into place through extracellular fluid. From these components, the nanochines built a neuranet interface assembly near the thalamus and constructed optichannels of hexo-silica rings to connect nano-assemblies behind the eye, beneath the ear, and near the tracheal junction. The assembly behind the eye modulated optic nerve signals to the thalamus, while the assembly just beneath the ear modulated the cochlear nerve signals, blending in output from the neuranet interface. The tracheal junction assembly, which modulated the signal going to the trachea, diverted speech in the form of electrical output to the neuranet, leaving the trachea with trace signals from the cerebellum, the reason some people appeared to be talking to themselves while on their trakes. The neuranet assembly near the thalamus outputted signals to the corn and coke, while signals from the trake were output to the neuranet. Any decryption or encryption, neura-mail retrieval and storage, or channel switching, was handled by the neuranet interface.
Interconnected with corn, coke, trake, and neuranet interface was the mastoid jack, the short name for the socket installed in the processus mastoideus bone just above the soft tissues of the neck right behind the ear. Only the exterior rim of the mastoid jack was installed manually. Program-limited nanochines installed all the other components, including hexo-silica optichannels to the thalamus, hypothalamus, amygdala, and hippocampus. Paired with the output from the neuranet interface assembly, a mastoid jack might supply a person with full sensual surround, taking complete control of all sensory input modes, including the gustatory, tactile, and olfactory senses, facilitating an all-senses plunge into an immersie or a complete and total cluster-jerk.
The age of installation had grown earlier and earlier, particularly in the last twenty years. Research was mixed on the question of pre-pubescent versus post-pubescent installation, various factions arguing over
Similar Books
