| Volume 1, Issue 1, January 31, 2006 | |
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The Adventure of the Counter-Culture Virus by Kevin Korell |
Looking out through a broad window into the cheerless gray sky of nineteenth century London, I realized I hadn't turned off the simulator last night. How many days had it been -- seven, eight? I really should quit this, I thought, tomorrow. I stumbled to the mantel for the blue bottle, then settled into an armchair by the fire. At my right lay the syringe in its threadbare case. Two ounces today. I thrust the needle in without a twitch. Ahhhh...the beast in my head purred, its hunger sated, if only for a while. Being a man took a bit of getting used to, but I loved this old chap. He knew the pain of a starved mind. What a dull substitute was life, when one could not engage the powers of reason. And it had been so long. "A filthy habit, Holmes," said a voice. "It wounds me deeply to see you ruin yourself that way." The good doctor had awakened. He entered the room and looked out the window. "My dear Watson," I said with a suppressed smile. "Your concern for my well being never fails to delight me. Would you care to try some?"
Read the entire story:The Adventure of the Counter-Culture Virus (pdf)
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