Psion Delta by Jacob Gowans Page A

front door no longer responded to her commands. She broke in
by smashing a window, setting off security alarms she could no longer
deactivate. Fleeing the premises before law enforcement arrived to investigate,
she took her car and tried to purchase food at the nearest grocery store, but
had no access to her money accounts. Out of starvation, she’d been forced to
steal like a disgraceful vagabond. Only one option remained: return to her
cruiser, use her remaining fuel to fly to Orlando, and see the fox for an
explanation.
    Skyscrapers
loomed around her as she walked alongside Church Street. The towers provided
some shade from the blistering afternoon sun, but did nothing to help with the
humidity that clung to her skin and clothes and draped around her like a
steaming towel. The buildings, the clothes, and the thickness in the air all
suffocated her. The sensation made her skin crawl.
    Focus , she
told herself. You are the tiger, not the rabbit.
    The
semi-sheer red sundress she wore left little to the imagination. She had
strategically stolen this outfit for the effect she needed to have on the fox.
    A
holographic advertisement jumped out from the electronics shop she passed.
“Back up your files! There’s no room for error when it comes to preserving a
lifetime of your best memories! Sign up today for one free petabyte of data
space in our cloud!”
    No.
No room for error at all.
    She
brushed that thought away as she flipped her hair back over her shoulder and
continued walking down the sidewalk. People passed her, walked by, crossed the
street in front and behind her, and browsed the windows of ground-level shops.
She loathed them all. One man, probably in his early twenties, let fly a low
whistle as she passed. The Queen glanced at him. When he saw her face, the man
grabbed his chest and said, “Poor baby, what happened? Can Papi fix it for
you?”
    “You
should see the other guy,” she shot back with a full measure of contempt, never
breaking her stride.
    Ordinary
people had no idea who she was or what she could do. It angered her that these
mindless ants could exist with such ignorance, walk by her, smile at her, gaze
on her beauty— no, at my disfigured face —and not know exactly who she was
and what power she held. She was both their protector and executioner, but they
knew nothing of her.
    She
stopped in front of a massive building, one of the largest towers in the city.
A pair of large, ornate double doors announced the entrance. Both doors were
framed in gold and in the center, where the two joined, was a bright N in
gleaming purple with a golden circle of light encircling it.
    A
purple explosion greeted her when she walked inside the building. A giant gold
and purple N was set into the marble floor, the lobby furniture purple velvet.
In fact, the Queen couldn’t look anywhere without seeing a purple N on
something. She ignored the gaudiness of the décor, and set her sights on
elevator thirteen. The door opened with a jolt, and the Queen nearly jumped.
    If
he wanted you dead, you would be already.
    She
spared only a glance at the endless list of numbers on the elevator panel. Most
of the floors were devoted to genetic research labs, administrative offices,
and business suites. She wanted floor ninety-one. The top floor. The penthouse
of the fox. A place where she had spent several nights in his company. Just
before pushing the button, an overwhelming urge to flee the elevator struck
her. Get out of here! Run!
    She
rested a clammy, unsteady finger on the button.
    He
could still find me. His reach is endless.
    The
elevator asked for her to scan her fingerprint, then her iris. Then the doors
closed swiftly, making no sound. The claustrophobic sensation she’d experienced
on the street returned stronger than before. She tasted her own peril; its
flavor reminded her of rotting meat.
    Fear.
She hadn’t experienced it in years. It was both alien and familiar,
exhilarating and crippling. I will not go easily if