Fury: Book One of the Cure (Omnibus Edition) Read Online Free PDF

plate out of her arm, wraps the wound in a dishcloth and then tells her to go to a hospital. Then he motions for one of the other waiters to clean up the mess, takes me by the elbow and calmly steers me back to my seat opposite him. All without even the hint of an expression on his face.
    I stare at him, heart still thumping. My anger’s gone, replaced by a deep, curling thrill in my stomach. I have never, ever seen a drone help a stranger. I’ve never seen a drone admonish another drone. What is it about him that seems so different? I can’t put my finger on it, searching his face for a clue.
    Nobody else in the café seems bothered by any of it. They’ve already gone back to their conversations.
    “Why did you do that?” I ask softly.
    He doesn’t look at me as he says, “So you wouldn’t.” And then, without an apology, he pulls out his packet of cigarettes and drops them into our jug of water. I watch the packet sink to the bottom.
    I meet Luke’s eyes. “I don’t like to be tested.”
    “I know that now. It’s why the smokes are wet.”
    I hold his gaze for another moment, and then I pick up my menu.
    *
    We don’t talk for quite a while. We peruse the menus, and I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I can’t focus on a single item I read. Luke waves his hand like some English monarch and a waiter arrives at a run. “Bacon and eggs, chorizo, hash browns and spinach,” he says. “And mushrooms. And maybe some baked beans. And more coffee. Josi, what do you want?”
    “If there’s any food left in the world after that I’ll just have an omelette,” I mutter, my mind miles away. Several screens on the wall depict a primary school fair and another shows a flower festival, both full of smiling, happy people and bright colors.
    “You know they film that shit in their studios,” Luke says lightly, eyes moving between the screens. I nod. Everyone knows that. But nobody cares. The news programs show people things that make them feel safe and happy, so they accept without questioning. I watch the children in the image flying a kite and laughing. In a few years those children will have their innocence stolen, their freedom torn out of their brains, but nobody ever sees images of that. Nobody ever asks the children if they want to be cured, if they’d rather have passion than calm.
    An advertisement for enhancement drugs comes on screen. “Dream like savages, live like humans.”
    I turn my eyes away, feeling sick. Once someone has been cured they don’t dream anymore. New drugs are being developed to create artificial dreams—dreams that have been cleared for safety, dreams that aren’t too stimulating—but the fact is: brains have been dulled.
    “Would you take those?” I ask Luke.
    “Dream stimulants? Fuck no.”
    I search his face while he is distracted by the holograms. It comes to me with a jerking sensation. “You swear,” I exclaim. “Drones hardly ever swear. And you put sugar in your coffee. Drones don’t care about taste.”
    “That’s a myth,” he replies mildly, still not looking at me. “An old one. Why would they put sugar on the table if no one wants it?”
    Good point. “What about the swearing?”
    Luke shrugs. “I must be a rebel.” Then he smiles and I can’t help laughing.
    I try to stop, reminding myself I know nothing about this guy. Haven’t I longed for someone to talk to though? Haven’t I yearned for decent conversation? Wished for a friend?
    Jesus, how pathetic am I? I can’t have friends if everyone in the world is a drone, because I can’t be friends with people I hate. I just need to keep reminding myself of that, or else Luke is going to continue with that smile and that gaze, and all the lonely, stupid pieces of me will respond with an eagerness that could get us both killed.
    I finish my coffee and run my finger around the lip of the mug. I regret sitting in the corner—I feel trapped. There aren’t many places to look except at Luke. He’s not