Tee almost opens his eyes to see the expression on her face, so that he'll have an image to match to this softness of tone
Tee pulls himself up onto one elbow and rubs his eyes clear, trying to ignore the sandpaper light. He digs his own fingertips into the shallow concavity of his temple and presses in circles, digging for the pain, watching Agatha hook herself slowly into her blue silk shoes.
you have an aeroplane in your hair
He looks like an overworked magician's assistant: sleeves rolled past his elbows and a rumpled satin waistcoat, blazing blond hair falling meticulously into his eyes.
Sooner or later Tee's blood will be more coffee than cells.
strong and enamored of its own strength
The cold air and the jumble of riotous sound pour in as soon as Robin opens the door onto the street.
Tee sees the gun in the man's hand before he sees the surreal beautiful calm of his face. Not a man at all, then.
the darkened sky carved up with smoke
Tee thinks about the beautiful inexorability of a software program, the way the commands flow into one another. He thinks about the storage of secrets; dangerous things unwritten and unstoppable.
He hears screams and thinks about the execution of programs. And people.
They become one ragged vector among many
the mood is panicked but also, in some strange way, vindictive.
its silence carving out a stern negative space
"Tee," Dom says, "which way from here?" and Tee remembers in that moment that Dom has eyai of his own.
Dom looks, for once, every inch the sharply intelligent man he is.
pale white glitter scattered across the stage, chairs overturned and glossy playing cards slippery underfoot, and the bar is a battlefield of spilt liquid and glass.
the blindsight of privilege. Because invisible technology is dangerous, especially that which has no need to piss or eat or sleep and which cannot feel pain -- yet people assume that nothing untoward can happen in these spaces which are hidden, for the most part, from their view.
For a fleeting moment Tee feels --/No. For a fleeting moment Tee thinks about the feeling of guilt.
Tee sees bruising around her neck and part of his mind takes the time to admire the tissue design; he wonders if it will fade overnight, or linger in mimicry of human physiology.
Tee remembers that this was hers, the project she pieced together from scraps of the Spencer child's code and her own old, old anger.
no subject
Tee pulls himself up onto one elbow and rubs his eyes clear, trying to ignore the sandpaper light. He digs his own fingertips into the shallow concavity of his temple and presses in circles, digging for the pain, watching Agatha hook herself slowly into her blue silk shoes.
you have an aeroplane in your hair
He looks like an overworked magician's assistant: sleeves rolled past his elbows and a rumpled satin waistcoat, blazing blond hair falling meticulously into his eyes.
Sooner or later Tee's blood will be more coffee than cells.
strong and enamored of its own strength
The cold air and the jumble of riotous sound pour in as soon as Robin opens the door onto the street.
Tee sees the gun in the man's hand before he sees the surreal beautiful calm of his face. Not a man at all, then.
the darkened sky carved up with smoke
Tee thinks about the beautiful inexorability of a software program, the way the commands flow into one another. He thinks about the storage of secrets; dangerous things unwritten and unstoppable.
He hears screams and thinks about the execution of programs. And people.
They become one ragged vector among many
the mood is panicked but also, in some strange way, vindictive.
its silence carving out a stern negative space
"Tee," Dom says, "which way from here?" and Tee remembers in that moment that Dom has eyai of his own.
Dom looks, for once, every inch the sharply intelligent man he is.
pale white glitter scattered across the stage, chairs overturned and glossy playing cards slippery underfoot, and the bar is a battlefield of spilt liquid and glass.
the blindsight of privilege. Because invisible technology is dangerous, especially that which has no need to piss or eat or sleep and which cannot feel pain -- yet people assume that nothing untoward can happen in these spaces which are hidden, for the most part, from their view.
For a fleeting moment Tee feels --/No. For a fleeting moment Tee thinks about the feeling of guilt.
Tee sees bruising around her neck and part of his mind takes the time to admire the tissue design; he wonders if it will fade overnight, or linger in mimicry of human physiology.
Tee remembers that this was hers, the project she pieced together from scraps of the Spencer child's code and her own old, old anger.