Equations of Being: SF Short Stories

The clockwork mouse went squeak!

If he had been alone it would have been a novelty, but they functioned in units of a thousand. The squeak was a signal, and positioned as they were around the auditorium, their simultaneous release of the nerve agent caused the almost instantaneous death of everyone enjoying the performance.

Commander Walter Stevenson had grown up reading two kinds of books.

One, science fiction, had fuelled his obsession, and two, psychology, had enabled him to avoid being profiled as a whack job.