Wiley Royce was dreaming of the glorious future. Perched on a hill, he viewed the smooth flowing freeway, the glittering city, filled with self-driving cars. Their digital screens glowed colorfully. Ah, the automated future, already halfway arrived!

Wiley took a deep, satisfied sigh. He looked down at his hand and found contained therein an electromagnetic pulse apparatus of his own devising. He sighed, again with satisfaction, and pointed the EMP at the efficiently running city. He grinned in his sleep and pushed the button. The cacophony of screeching metal which followed woke him from his dream.

Wiley smiled in the darkness. He would never disrupt self-driving cars, would never kill his fellow man, destroy their property. Just the knowledge that he could, and effortlessly, was enough for Wiley. That any number of others also could, served as a cautionary tale. No one would ever find Wiley Royce inside a car that drove itself.

Brendee stirred in her sleep and Wiley kissed her on the neck. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Why are you awake?” she asked.

“I dreamed I set the freeway back a few years,” he said, and his grin widened. “A simple thing, really, just a little electronic disruption . . .”

“That’s you, Wiley,” his wife said, enfolding him in her arms. “Always smarter than everyone else.

“Jack of all trades, master of none.”

“Yet always master of all you survey.”

“If the shoe fits.”


Excerpts from other books in this series:
This Carnival of Strange
Wiley Royce
Generally Recognized As Safe
Wiley Royce Versus The Martians

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