By William Mangieri

Copyright 2012 by William Mangieri

Smashwords Edition

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Amun stood in the moonlit woods, looking at the wrought-iron fence that cut across the rear of the Bahur estate. He walked over and touched it with the back of his hand.

“Nothing,” he said, “boost me over.”

When there was no reply, he turned around to see Shaq standing in the clearing, staring straight ahead through the goggles that fed visuals to his implant. Motionless, except for his jaw and the gum he was chewing.

“Hey,” he said, tapping the taller teen on the shoulder, “browsing or drowsing, iShaq?”

Sometimes Amun wished he was blind so he could have goggles, too. But he knew wouldn’t have had the brains to hack them into the web like Shaq had. That was the reason Shaq’s friends used the “i” prefix for his nickname - to honor his intellect, not to insult his hardware dependence.

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