I’m doing eighty through residential, swerving to avoid the few tired vehicles on the road. The CyberCorp looms like some ancient Mayan monolith in the distance, its beacon summit gleaming with white light.
I’m blocks away from the building when she flashes by in my sideview—glimpse of scarlet lips, brush of light chocolate skin. The next thing I know she’s standing in the road ahead, hands outstretched, mouth wide in a desperate warning shout.
I run her over.
I try to stop.