The Last Firewall

Начало книги

She diced onions until she had a neat pile, and went to work on the red peppers, humming to herself as she worked. A blue cloth, candles, and a bottle of her favorite red decorated the table. She glanced at the clock; twenty minutes until he arrived.

A biting pain cut through her head, her vision flashing white before fading to dark. Startled, she dropped the knife and pressed hard against her temples, afraid her implant was malfunctioning.

The pain doubled, then quadrupled in seconds. She gasped and gripped the counter for support as her knees weakened.

A memory surfaced, unbidden. Her mom and dad; they were young again, and smiling. Her mother clapped her hands. Crisp and vivid, the vision cut across forty years with a glaring intensity. As quickly as it came, the moment was torn away, only to be replaced by another.

Oh, God, no. She was dying.

The next memory was as crystal clear as the chopped vegetables in front of her. She was fumbling with the stick shift in her father’s car, while learning to drive. Glancing over, she saw him sitting calmly, the corner of his mouth upturned.

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