Orgasmachine by Ian Watson

Author:Ian Watson [Watson, Ian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Science Fiction, General
ISBN: 9780575114548
Publisher: Gateway / Orion
Published: 2011-09-29T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter VI

The maintenance worker - who, by his real name, was called Zebedee - engaged his vehicle on the ramp of the Dollar store Slot Corporation.

In the cold light of blue neon lights, dozens of machines were waiting, at various stages of preparation. Some of them were reduced to the carcass - a seat with straps, lifting machinery and a slit. For others, only a few body panels were missing. Others finally simply needed a beauty treatment or a new pair of Breasts. A few were awaiting delivery, equipped with their beautiful red label, with the woman already installed inside. Zebedee stopped her vehicle in front of one of them.

He studied his notepad for one or two minutes letting the engine run - it was not bad for the women to be installed in the machines have a taste of what was waiting for them at a crossroads Attended. Then he put his foot down and lifted the tarpaulin that covered the machine Jade.

He had a disapproving tongue slam at the sight of the damage to the facade - the deep gashes in the belly, the striped surface at the location of pruned breasts, dented and dented metal where he had been attacked by steel-toed shoes.

In front of stuff like that, we wondered what it was like to undo each morning polish the breasts and, in general, to keep the machine clean. In fact, he hadn’t even bothered to clean when he had seen the damage and a sour smell of mixed semen urine had escaped from the machine. It looked like a bottle of milk. that would have been left in the sun for a few days.

He put the crane into action and the exhaust fumes made them denser. The machine rose into the air, passed over the and was laid ashore.

Zebedee recoiled a few steps, attached one of the crane machines with a red label, hoisted it onto the tray of the van and threw the tarp over it.

The miserable air conditioning system in the basement was not no size to evacuate exhaust fumes. The air had become a thick blue fog. Zebedee himself was caught in a violent coughing act at the he had to lean against the vehicle to expect mucus oil-stained soil. In a nearby machine, a woman coughed Also.

Before starting, taken with a sudden impulse, he approached of Jade’s machine and clasped his eye to the peephole-something he was never before came up with the idea of doing.

First of all, he saw absolutely nothing. Then, when his sight got used to the light chick dispensed by the ventilation slots, he glimpsed an eye, immense, which stared at him. An intense blue eye, which didn’t close. And, amplified by the sounding board that was the machine, a low voice articula:

I hate you.

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