Rule 34

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No author works in a vacuum, and this book in particular benefited from the critical input of dozens of people. First and foremost I’d like to thank my agent Caitlin Blasdell for her patience and perseverance. I’d also like to thank my test readers, notably Stew Wilson, Marcus Rowland, Vernor Vinge, Sean Eric Fagan, David Skogsberg, Jeffrey Wilson, David Goldfarb, Soon Lee, Skip Huffman, Ross Younger, Harry and Omega, Dave Brown, Milena Popova, Anthony Cunningham, and Roy Øvrebø.

(If I’ve forgotten to mention you, please accept my grovelling apologies.)

It’s a slow Tuesday afternoon, and you’re coming to the end of your shift on the West End control desk when Sergeant McDougall IMs you: INSPECTOR WANTED ON FATACC SCENE.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you subvocalize, careful not to let it out aloud—the transcription software responds erratically to scatology, never mind eschatology—and wave two fingers at Mac’s icon. You can’t think of a reasonable excuse to dump it on D. I. Chu’s shoulders when he comes on shift, so that’s you on the spot: you with your shift-end paper-work looming, an evening’s appointment with the hair salon, and your dodgy gastric reflux.

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