A town perched on a long, high coast anchored 305. Jack Hanson arrived half a mile away, at the edge of a cliff that stooped to a foam-flecked ocean.
Back in 001, the smooth-faced technician had assured him she knew what she was doing. Yet one misstep in the daze that followed transition and he'd have been over.
He extended his arms for balance.
Sweat tickled the back of his neck and the scar where they'd inserted his co-processor itched to distraction. His head was fuzzy at first, but after a few moments the waves below him ceased to brush through it. Tasting the clean salt air, he glanced down at the sea, seeing it roil against rocks tumbled from the chalk cliff.
A stagger over scrubby grass and occasional blue flowers took him to the town. Its plain white houses reminded him of somewhere he'd once known, yet both time and place eluded him.
He wanted something for the itch, but the 830 wasn't open; food would have to distract him. He found a 961. A dump; they were all like this now, even 612. A waitress directed him to 441 where he sat and studied the menu.
"What?" The waitress scowled at him.
"I'll take the 102, the 733 and the 853." He wiped off the sweat with a serviette. He hated the 111 now. How did it get like this? How did the Chinese get so powerful?
Opening: BuffySquirrel....Continuation: Anonymous