Tuesday, August 7, 2007

Tales From The Inkblot War

by Ari Collins

“Don’t worry, Doctor, it’s good and dead.”

“It wasn’t alive,” I said. “Blots are machines.” I approached the exam table. It did look like an inkblot, liquid-black except for... “The dull red center’s the neural net?”

As I peered in, the Blot rippled orange-red and an ice-cold tendril snaked into my ear.

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