Xeno yearns to have access to The Nth Dimension like The White Boys, famed telepaths who suffered brain damage when they made contact with extraterrestrial intelligence. Out of work as a bartender since the Shoki Pao dance club mysteriously burned d...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Across the street from Boutique, Xeno and Trianne made their way through the congested parking lot of a twenty-four hour indoor strip mall. As they approached the main entrance, Trianne spotted Fayke Tan's full screen mogul eyes roaming towards them on telepanes mounted along the front facade, squinting through tall tree branches, peering into parked cars, darting towards anyone with Trianne's hair coloring or physique.
"Uh oh." Trianne yanked Xeno down behind a parked car.
"What is it?"
"Fayke's eyes on the telepanes, looming large."
"Is he stalking you?"
"Let's not stick around to find out."
Xeno and Trianne ducked in and out of the shadows, from vehicle to vehicle, until they were able to slip around the corner of the mall, all the way around to the back lot. They hustled past the shadowy back wall of featureless sandstone, crossing a desolate stretch of asphalt. To the other side of the lot, a high retaining wall rumbled with elevated freeway traffic, with shafts of oncoming headlights bleeding over the edge.
"Do you know where you're going?" Trianne asked.
"Yeah, this is the express route."
"Do serial killers use it?"
"Yeah, I think there's one hiding in that creepy loading dock."
"Thanks, that really puts me at ease."
"We're almost to the other side."
The path narrowed as they walked through a cramped formation of stacked shipping containers, drawing them into blacker shadows. Several yards away, a drifter appeared in the scant light at the opposite end, a towering man in wool sweater and baggy work pants, stumbling his way through the steel chasm like a drunken dock worker. As he lumbered closer to Xeno and Trianne, one discerning feature became ever more visible as he passed beneath the intermittent shafts of lamp light—his head had been severed clean off, the base of his neck completely healed over like a petrified tree stump.
"My god, that guy has no—" Trianne whispered.
"It's a headless synth." Xeno pulled Trianne close. "Just stay still and let him pass."
The headless synth veered towards Trianne with clumsy steps, reached out with his hand and felt around her forehead with meaty gray fingers, touching her cheeks, feeling around her throat, gliding his palm down her chest, then over her breast. Xeno slugged the headless synth's forearm with his fist as hard as he could, startling the poor creature. The headless synth backed off, making frightened jazz hands, then fled past them until he was out of sight.
Trianne stumbled back, almost losing her balance.
"You all right?" Xeno steadied her with his arm around her shoulder.
