“Good evening, Mr. Sumerset,” the orderly said, his voice coated with a sugary-sweet enamel.
“Fuck off and die in a greasefire,” the old man replied.
“Now, now,” the orderly said, “is that any way to behave?” He took hold of Daniel Sumerset’s wheelchair and nudged the old man down the hallway. “You really should behave yourself, Mr. Sumerset. It’s only polite, what with all I do for you.”
“You eat my candy-bars and steal my meds to sell to your punk friends,” the old man said. “Be grateful I don’t sneak into the cafeteria and take a piss in your cereal bowl every morning.” Continue reading The Omnisphere: Part 3