By Peter Cawdron
How do you resolve a homicide whilst the sufferer comes again to existence with out reminiscence of contemporary events?
In the twenty second century, the US struggles to rebuild after the second one civil struggle. Democracy has been suspended whereas the reconstruction attempt lifts the rustic out of the ruins of clash. America's destiny lies within the fingers of a genetically-engineered soldier being able to go through time.
The highway to Hell offers with a futuristic international and the appearance of restricted time commute. It explores social matters akin to the character of belief and the clash among loyalty and honesty.
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Additional resources for The Road to Hell
They were everywhere around the life-support shell, holding it from conflagration by their appalling power and generosity. They were not yet gods; in a sense they never would be gods, not as the ontological mythologies of their ancient predecessors had imagined. Not even they could be said to stand outside of time and space, beyond a Tegmark level sense; they were immanent, their transcendence—their transcension—no more (no more! ) than the final triumph of conscious will over mindless entropy.
Nope. I guess this is an improv. Situational. " "The owner recommends that I take my johns out into the alley. Might have been a hint. " "Nothing would please me more. " "Of course. Sometimes I'm paired with Maybelline Seebeck. " He shrugged. " She felt a burst of envy. ' Yeah, larger than the usual, these days, one of us for every month of the year. " Something suddenly came clear. Maybe it was the jingle. '" Ember grinned broadly. "Exactly. Have to suppose they planned our birthdays with exquisite self-control.
The air burned. I leaped so my back covered the door. Lune stayed where she was, perched on the toilet. She looked elegant, slightly sad herself. The same locked window blazed with blue flickering intensity, paint crackling. The glass crazed, vanished like steam. Maybelline shoved her stocky form through the gap, warily pointing a shiny steel tube at me, balancing herself with the other hand. She edged around the corpse on the floor, stood near Lune. I waited with my mouth open, expecting a blast of blue to swallow me down.
The Road to Hell by Peter Cawdron