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.