Flip by Lynn Townsend
Su’ama woke with a start, pushing frantically at the head and jaw device—the Brassard Protocol Expedient—that connected her with the Flip project. Her conductive suit was drenched with sweat, and probably not a little urine, to be frank. Flipping was hard work, even when she wasn’t lost in the moment, aware, and attuned with her Subject.
The tray slid forward, carrying the precious Nu-gel and a beaker of water. She concentrated on the gel. From experience she knew it to be sticky-sweet, and gone entirely too soon. If she drank her water beforehand, she would have nothing to wash away dinner. Still, it was nothing like real food, which her body insisted she’d tasted and swallowed and digested hours ago. The doctor’s hus was not considered a skilled cook; all his fini
