Chapter 11
Jazzlyn sat in a dark hostel room and held up Ballixter’s black box to the light. The window shades were drawn, the room lit by the light of a single lamp on the nightstand. The walls were yellowing and cracked in places, in need of major repair. She sat cross-legged on a floral bedspread that looked like an African jungle.
Smoochums and the rest of her mechanical cockroaches sat on the edge of the bed, watching a trashy reality television show about human-android relationships.
Jazzlyn puffed an electronic cigarette, the smell of watermelon-blueberry tobacco filling the room. She blew a huge cloud of smoke at the black box and it stuck to the sides, dulling its shiny surfaces. She wiped one of the edges until it was shiny again.
“The indestructible black box. An android wan
