pure aura,’ said Judge Lutz, the squad’s new empath.
‘When you’ve been with this unit a little longer, my dear,’ said the massive Judge McKern, setting a plump fist reassuringly on the little empath’s shoulder pad, ‘you’ll learn that we always stop by here when we’re on Exorcise Duty in this sector.’ Lutz smiled timidly at the team’s mountainous telekinetic.
‘Suppose we’ll have to wait then,’ mumbled Pyke, as he flicked through a dog-eared copy of Which Sedative? from the coffee table.
‘Is Thorne in his Iso-Cube?’ inquired Anderson as she strode purposefully down the corridor, accompanied by the Home’s Well-Being Monitor.
‘Environment, you mean?’ replied the droid, its servo units straining to match Anderson’s pace.
Anderson ignored the correction as she continued to ignore the muzak emanating from the droid. ‘And how is he?’
‘He’s as happy as a sandboy, as pleased as punch, as nice as pie... he hasn’t a care on his mind!’
‘He hasn’t got a mind,’ replied Anderson acidly.
They came to a halt by a padded shutter. ‘I’ll just open the door,’ said the droid. ‘It’s in passive mode.’
‘Locked, you mean.’
‘We don’t like to use negative terms here at the Mavis Riley facility,’ said the droid. ‘When stress and trauma get you down, and your face just isn’t smiley, never fear, relief is near, book in at Mavis Ri–’
‘Shut up,’ said Anderson as the door slid open.
‘Such a sad case,’ reflected the droid. ‘And so inexplicable.’
‘Haven’t you read his diaries?’ said Anderson, stepping past the droid into the cell.
From the diary of Gregory Thorne:
‘ ...May 12 th : When I got home from work today, I got a message from God. It was just a quick word to say that the Antichrist would soon be in the neighbourhood, and could I keep an eye out for him. He’s given me a list of signs to look for and said that when I’ve ticked them all off, he’ll give me some further tips on how to save the world from an eternity of damnation. I found the first sign straight away – a beast rising out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns and on the horns ten crowns – that couldn’t be easier. I’m working on it...’
June 6 – 5.25pm
They rode out of the city, five riders ahead of the storm. The burning headlamps of their Lawmaster bikes cast jagged shadows across the blasted wasteland of Reclaim Zone #13. Even now, years after the Apocalypse War, a charnel smell hung in the wind. Anderson signalled her Spook Squad to halt as the brooding grey structure of the half-finished Geo-Stability Tower rose before them. Seven massive support columns rising from a gash in the landscape, lifting ten vent-capped geothermal conversion chambers into a thunderous sky. It was here that warheads had split open the very flesh of the planet. It was only structures such as these, whose tectonic anchors were embedded deep below, that kept in check the tidal fury of the magmatic seas that boiled close to the surface.
‘Re-cap please, Troughton,’ said Anderson.
The young Judge accessed his bike’s terminal. ‘Zone #13 rehab program contracted to Ideal Block Inc. This is the final stabilising tower to be constructed before work begins on the residential areas. Work currently at a standstill due to a series of bizarre industrial accidents and unrest in the workers’ compound. Cause may be residual psychic energy left over from the conflagration. Psi Squad investigation required.’
‘What was this place before?’ asked Judge Stokes. ‘Empathically, I’m not reading much.’
Troughton shot her a grimace. ‘Neutral Zone mediplex. Ninety thousand civilians cremated in a nanosecond, thanks to a stray nuke.’
‘Any speculations, McKern?’ asked Anderson.
The big man was lost in the shadows. ‘Sounds like a casebook Revenant Node. A concentrated mass, representing thousands of souls traumatised in the same moment. Could
‘When you’ve been with this unit a little longer, my dear,’ said the massive Judge McKern, setting a plump fist reassuringly on the little empath’s shoulder pad, ‘you’ll learn that we always stop by here when we’re on Exorcise Duty in this sector.’ Lutz smiled timidly at the team’s mountainous telekinetic.
‘Suppose we’ll have to wait then,’ mumbled Pyke, as he flicked through a dog-eared copy of Which Sedative? from the coffee table.
‘Is Thorne in his Iso-Cube?’ inquired Anderson as she strode purposefully down the corridor, accompanied by the Home’s Well-Being Monitor.
‘Environment, you mean?’ replied the droid, its servo units straining to match Anderson’s pace.
Anderson ignored the correction as she continued to ignore the muzak emanating from the droid. ‘And how is he?’
‘He’s as happy as a sandboy, as pleased as punch, as nice as pie... he hasn’t a care on his mind!’
‘He hasn’t got a mind,’ replied Anderson acidly.
They came to a halt by a padded shutter. ‘I’ll just open the door,’ said the droid. ‘It’s in passive mode.’
‘Locked, you mean.’
‘We don’t like to use negative terms here at the Mavis Riley facility,’ said the droid. ‘When stress and trauma get you down, and your face just isn’t smiley, never fear, relief is near, book in at Mavis Ri–’
‘Shut up,’ said Anderson as the door slid open.
‘Such a sad case,’ reflected the droid. ‘And so inexplicable.’
‘Haven’t you read his diaries?’ said Anderson, stepping past the droid into the cell.
From the diary of Gregory Thorne:
‘ ...May 12 th : When I got home from work today, I got a message from God. It was just a quick word to say that the Antichrist would soon be in the neighbourhood, and could I keep an eye out for him. He’s given me a list of signs to look for and said that when I’ve ticked them all off, he’ll give me some further tips on how to save the world from an eternity of damnation. I found the first sign straight away – a beast rising out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns and on the horns ten crowns – that couldn’t be easier. I’m working on it...’
June 6 – 5.25pm
They rode out of the city, five riders ahead of the storm. The burning headlamps of their Lawmaster bikes cast jagged shadows across the blasted wasteland of Reclaim Zone #13. Even now, years after the Apocalypse War, a charnel smell hung in the wind. Anderson signalled her Spook Squad to halt as the brooding grey structure of the half-finished Geo-Stability Tower rose before them. Seven massive support columns rising from a gash in the landscape, lifting ten vent-capped geothermal conversion chambers into a thunderous sky. It was here that warheads had split open the very flesh of the planet. It was only structures such as these, whose tectonic anchors were embedded deep below, that kept in check the tidal fury of the magmatic seas that boiled close to the surface.
‘Re-cap please, Troughton,’ said Anderson.
The young Judge accessed his bike’s terminal. ‘Zone #13 rehab program contracted to Ideal Block Inc. This is the final stabilising tower to be constructed before work begins on the residential areas. Work currently at a standstill due to a series of bizarre industrial accidents and unrest in the workers’ compound. Cause may be residual psychic energy left over from the conflagration. Psi Squad investigation required.’
‘What was this place before?’ asked Judge Stokes. ‘Empathically, I’m not reading much.’
Troughton shot her a grimace. ‘Neutral Zone mediplex. Ninety thousand civilians cremated in a nanosecond, thanks to a stray nuke.’
‘Any speculations, McKern?’ asked Anderson.
The big man was lost in the shadows. ‘Sounds like a casebook Revenant Node. A concentrated mass, representing thousands of souls traumatised in the same moment. Could
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