Complete Atopia Chronicles Read Free Page B

the first time in ages I felt a surge of optimism. I decided to walk myself home from the clinic. I could use a breath of fresh air.
    I stopped to light up a cigarette.
    I’d decided that I hadn’t made a mistake with Alex. I really needed my space, to be alone for a while. He never supported or defended me anyway. In fact, my whole life it had always been up to me to defend my own place. Nobody ever helped me with anything.
    Fall was in fully now, and the leaves on the trees lining the streets were turning beautiful shades of crimson and yellow. The air had a refreshing edge. I strode energetically along the sidewalks, enjoying myself, looking at everything around me.
    I didn’t feel any different, and part of me doubted that whatever they had done would work as well as it was billed, despite that I was personally marketing it all. The crowds on the Upper East Side were dense but navigable, and billboards and holograms cluttered the view, but it still made for a nice walk. Eventually, I made my way home to the personal oasis of my brownstone walk–up.
    Mr. Tweedles sprang at me as I entered, and began purring loudly as he rubbed himself against my pant leg while I closed the door and arranged my things. The cat had been my friend Mary’s idea, to provide some companionship. I’d grown fond of him, but the thing was just so needy. I shooed him away, hating the thought of all the hair he was depositing on me with each purring caress.
    I immediately made for the bottle of wine on my kitchen counter that I’d opened yesterday and poured myself a glass. Collapsing onto my couch, I luxuriated in the taste of the earthy Tempranillo.
    Sighing, I realized I had to review the installation instructions for my new toy. I might as well get it over with, but I had no patience for dealing with anything technical.
    Rummaging around in my purse, I found a cigarette. I’d already gone through another pack. With all the technological wizardry you’d think they could invent an endless cigarette. I shook my head and crumpled up the empty cardboard packaging and threw it onto the table.
    “Pssi instructions,” I called out, lighting up my smoke.
    “System activated,” I heard from a voice that seemed to be inside my head. “I will now appear on the chair beside you. Please do not be alarmed.”
    With that, something materialized sitting beside me on my matching armchair, something that looked sort of like me. In fact, it looked exactly like me.
    “I am your new poly-synthetic sensory interface, or pssi, proxxi,” it said. “I will now explain the system features to you. You can stop me at any time.”
    “Wait, wait, wait,” I objected, waving my glass of wine in front of me, “hold on a sec.”
    I wanted to get Kenny, my techie and personal assistant from work, in on this. I fumbled around in my purse for my mobile.
    “You don’t need your mobile anymore,” helpfully suggested my new proxxi, seeming to know what I was thinking. That stopped me in my tracks.
    “Kenny?” I called out tentatively, and his projection instantly appeared floating in the middle of my living room.
    “Yes boss?” he asked. “Whoa, you got some kind of fancy lens display system going on?”
    I’d tripped his geek–chic alarm.
    “Yeah, Kenny, great, just get over it okay? Please listen to what, this, ah, woman is saying,” I said pointing towards my new proxxi. “Pssi interface, or proxxi, or whatever, please continue.”
    Kenny’s eyes grew wide as the proxxi began speaking and describing the system controls. I just sat back and let my eyes glaze over, enjoying my wine. Presently, the proxxi faded away and I turned to Kenny to finish up.
    “Kenny, I hate dealing with all this technical stuff,” I complained, “can I give you root access to my system and you handle the settings and dealing with this proxxi? I don’t want to have anything to do with it, and quite frankly I find it, or her or whatever, disturbing.”
    “Not sure boss,”