The Quiet After the StormA wave of multi-coloured light rippled across the wall and the holographic screen spluttered into life. Fluctuations in the atmospherics must have interrupted the connections in some way. A storm was coming in off the sea perhaps. Bremen sipped his coffee and waited for the picture to clear.
When it did, a reporter's face loomed up large, in front of Tyburn Hill, with a small crowd of noisy onlookers stamping their feet impatiently as the first few drops of rain fell.
Nothing like how it used to be. Thousands once attended such public castrations. Now, the number could be counted in tens. When it was all over, chauffeured limousines would ferry them back to their hilltop mansions, their sumptuous penthouse suites. The lure of watching a man having his testicles r
