With a scream of tyres, an auto-tank materialised from a side-street, uniformed Strato-cops pouring from the open flank-doors, zap-guns ready. Pullitzer broke into a trot. Under his leisurewear djellaba he fingered the power toggle to his auto-boots. He knew the battery flux was low. But it might give him the edge he needed.
'Halt or I fire!' bellowed the cyber-vocal circuits of Leader One. Zap-guns swung to bear on their target, set at stun level, Immense Pain. Pullitzer slammed the engage unit and his boots hummed. Power surged into the fibro-soles as the torque members throbbed with raw energy. Hot exhaust fumes billowed from his trousers. Dust kicked up into the faces of his enemies. In a flare of zap-beams he was gone. The agony rays hit nothing but air. A smouldering corner of djellaba fibre fluttered to the ground. Pullitzer Petrograd had escaped again.
© BH 1990
I don't officially remember when this came out. After 1974, obviously. I'd never posessed, let alone worn a djellaba before then.
In the light of more recent upheavals in North Africa, it has a certain resonance. The sci-fi flavour makes it more so, don't you think?
Still, no more (super)heroes anymore, don't you know?
No comments:
Post a Comment