Fiction

Broken Machines They were cowards. They were sightless. They were weak. No, they were none of those things. They were broken. Malfunctioning. She both understood them yet could not fathom their choice to leave. Mara watched dozens of figures stalk away from their settlement -- away from Mara’s home

S1 Fitz Jefferson settled into his leather office chair for a rushed lunch between lectures, hands navigating a mindless pre-lunch ritual, eyes locked on the innocuous pair of black glasses resting on his desk, mind thinking of the world that lived inside them. “Welcome back, Fitz,” a faceless voice said.