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Distant Machines

Simon John Cox

Copyright © 2012 Simon John Cox

Smashwords Edition

Perks Of The Job

On the way to the hotel we see a man. He is perched on a street corner in the rain, black hair slick on sodden forehead, talking to himself and painting erratic patterns in the air with his hands. Passers-by ignore him, flitting past as though he were contagious, hunched like spiders under their sleek black umbrellas. Wei says he looks crazy. We drive past him and continue into the hotel car park.

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