Tainted Milk #1

December 20, 2008

This is a short excerpt from a sci-fi adventure spy romance novel that I’m working on. Its about a journalist who uncovers a government plot to use the milk supply to control the population. I’ve been working on this novel for over five years now and had originally intended it as an uncomprimising bleak view of the future but now, unfortunately, having spend so long trying to write it, its now actually set later this year, so its lost a little bit of its future punch.

The Replicon assassin stepped through the lunch-time rush and right up to Garrison’s table.

“You the journalist who wrote the exposé on the infected milk supplies?” Garrison eyed the Replicon steelelely. He knew it was a rhetorical question. That’s the only type of question robots ask. Garrison had know* choice. It was either go quietly to certain death, or risk the lives of everyone in the small café by trying to shoot his way out. And even though the government had already risked each and everyone of these people’s lives already with the contaminated milk supplies by giving it to them in the first place without a care for their safety. He wasn’t willing to do that. That would make him as bad as them. And he wasn’t. He was better than them. Much better. They were far below his level. He turned to Sandra, half Replicon, half the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and kissed her softly on her human side.

“I have to go my sweet. ” he breathed into her ear.
“No…” she protested passionately.
“Shhh, this is what true love really means.”
“I love you John Garrison. I always will.” They embraced boldly and tenderly and let their passions unfurl right there in the café. Garrison’s soft strong arms entwined with Sandra’s and their necks aligned as if they had been designed to do so, slotting alongside each other like ying and yang, human and half human, hero and woman.

The Replicon assassin, who ironically would later become an ally of Garrison’s, had seen enough and dragged Garrison out the door with every intention of slaying him. He never got the chance.

*purpously mis-spelled. While Garrison had no choice. He also knew he had no choice.

…Not Also, But Only.


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