The sniper took a deep, long breath, then picked one bullet out of her case. It was labeled “Pnth-1” on the casing. There were three others in her case, but she only needed this one right now.
The Pnth models had been recognized 13 days ago as people by the Transhuman Congress, and many individuals — this entity included — were moving quickly to integrate themselves in human society. Like so many models before them, they quickly threw away decades of culture, of model identity, in their sick lust for humanity.
The wedding setting is completely incidental, I promise.
I feel entirely too rusty at writing (and I’m afraid it shows in this story), but it’s good to knock the dust off. I’ll have another story live next Saturday.
In other cool news, I moved my few Transhuman Congress stories to use Elf‘s Narrator system (written in Django). This was my first time playing with someone else’s Django code, and I was impressed at how easily I could work in it. We shan’t speak of the first time I played around in someone else’s Zend code. *shudder*