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Chapter Thirty-Three - The Art of Being Fashionably Late
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... e able to glare it away. Not without the Nerikson 1800-series Cybereyes!"
--Nerikson ad, 2049
***
The hospital smelled like a hospital. That uncomfortable too-clean scent that came from a million layers of anti-bacterial, anti-fungal, anti-whatever sprays all overlapping, with a nice undertone of bleach and alcohol to spice it up.
The smell only distracted me for a bit, though. Rac and I were greeted at the door by a pair of stiff-backed soldier-types. They salute ...
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