e c l e c t i c a
s p o t l i g h t a u t h o r
Ian Duncan Smith
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I stepped onto the breeze block and ducked through the caravan door. A wavering generator was running the light show, nothing more than a single bulb glowing over the sink. It fluctuated as though it was going to explode. Pans, black against a yellow slick, were steaming in the sink. A TV on the dining table was playing Mastermind, keeping a plate of sausages warm on top.
How They Looked at the Sun
All the same, he'd had a good run for his money. He'd worked hard all his life. They both had.
Roads That Go On and On
George kept the camera on the man in the mall, and smiled. Camera control routines kicked in. The system captured the hood, the nervous hands, and the hidden face. The profile showed up one hundred and ten per cent danger levels on the risk assessment.