Explore "We're Friends, Now" by Henry Hasse on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
_The little man stood in front of the monstrous machine as the synaptic drone heightened to a scream. No. no, he whispered. Don't you understand._
Today more than other days Raoul Beardsley felt the burden, the dragging sense of inevitability. He frowned; he glanced at his watch; he leaned forward to speak to the copter pilot and then changed his mind. He settled back, and from idle habit adjusted his chair-scope to the familiar broad-spoked area of Washington just below.