Zero History

“How are you, Oliver?”
“The company that makes these things has gone out of business,” Sleight said. “So we
need to do some reprogramming tomorrow.” He hung up.
“Good night,” Milgrim said, looking at the Neo in his hand. He put it on the bedside
table, climbed into bed in his underwear, and pulled the covers to his chin. He turned out
the light. Lay there running his tongue over the backs of his teeth. The room was slightly
too warm, and he was aware, somehow, of the dressmaker’s dummy.
And listened to, or at any rate sensed, the background frequency that was London. A
different white noise.