Wolverton crushes the fetish and for a moment everything is perfectly still, crystalised in time.  Broken, the fetish expends itself, dumping information into its surrounds.  At critical mass, information expresses itself as matter; a formless cloud that explodes outwards within a millisecond.

Wolverton is pressed against the floor by the force of it, the room instantly filling with a formless grey cloud.  There’s a second explosion from the revolver as the suit is hurled into the air, the slug striking the floor near Wolverton’s ear.  Man and weapon part company from the recoil, landing separately as Wolverton rolls to his knees.


~ by Electro-mechanical Man on March 9, 2011.

One Response to “Wolverton”

  1. How do I read the thing five or six times and still miss the double “formless cloud”?

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