“Semler?”Archimedes cannot bring himself to correct the guard. “Yes?”“Your attorney’s here,” the guard says, his voice thin and tinny through the speaker. “I’m going to take you to the conference room so you can speak to him in private.”My attorney, Archimedes thinks bitterly. That fool Fresch, a man who claims to be an ally, a friend. No such thing, not for him. He rises from his cot and a rueful laugh slips out. All he wanted was to be part of the real world. Now he finds himself more alone, m...ore isolated, than he ever was as an elaborate piece of software “living” in a virtual reality.The cell door pops open with a soft hiss and slides into a recess in the wall. “What’s funny?” the guard asks.“Nothing,” Archimedes says. “Nothing at all.”The officer is gentle, respectful as he guides Archimedes out of the cell and down a sterile white corridor. Byrne Penitentiary and Detention Center, he quickly discovered, is not dissimilar to the Protectorate’s detention area in terms of aesthetics, but is immeasurably more secure.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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