100 Years Project Anthology

when he came in, plus five other hover chairs. A small EveryScreen
is built into the wall. Bags and old books and SmartScreens are
scattered across the room. A small kitchen area is just to the left of
the door, but it could be mistaken for a dishwasher with the stacks of
dirty dishes.
Evan groans, bringing me back to the situation. He crumples up
the letter and throws it across the room. He buries his face in his
hands.“I hate fan mail.” he mutters. “What are we going to do?”
“What do you mean? We have to follow the request or who knows
what will happen?”
“Are you insane? Do–”
I cut him off, “Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that we have to
date. So give me your number and I’ll see you later.”
He goes to say something, but quickly changes his mind. Instead, he
sticks his arm out. I take it and scan the chip in his wrist with my
SmartScreen. His number pops up and I save it. He takes my arm and
does the same.
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