“…and Tower Three, Level Nine, Shift One, report your status, please,” the pleasantly professional voice on the other end of the communications channel requested.
Even though she’d already performed and submitted a thorough and systematic check, Vera turned her head slightly to the right, glancing at all the green indicator lights on the bioreactor beyond the glass. She turned back to her console and said. “Tower Three, Level Nine, Shift One end. Vera Pine signing out of duty. All is good.”
“Not for long,” a falsely sinister voice said, in a half-whisper from behind her.
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You think you know our story. The asteroid. The extinction. The line of descendants who succeeded in taking to the air in ways we never did, never could.
I stopped writing and dropped my pen. I glanced up at the monitor that displayed a magnified image. And shifted my gaze over to the already withering leaf mounted on the simple light microscope.
It was my imagination. It had to be.
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I heard someone calling…calling to me.
Is it the voice of the woman on the other side of the airlock window?
Or is it the voice of the ghost that’s trying to possess me?
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