David Dvorkin

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 by David Dvorkin

Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Holroyd watched in horror, unable to tear his eyes from the screen.

At first glance, the tiny figure struggling in the center of the screen might have been a fly caught upon some reddish–white, glowing, slightly flickering surface. Then the camera zoomed in and the figure resolved into a man, squirming desperately on the frictionless, bowl–shaped surface of the force screen that suspended him above the hellfire of the magma.

The image of Martinson expanded still more, and at the same time he looked up at the camera suspended above him, so that his face suddenly filled the screen. His eyes were wide, bulging, his face glistened with sweat. His lips moved, but whether with curses or pleas or recantations, Holroyd could not tell.

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