Crashed (Skinned, Book 2) by Robin Wasserman

By Robin Wasserman

Now in paperback, the second one publication within the life like sci-fi trilogy Scott Westerfeld calls "spellbinding".

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Man-made. Org-made. ” I crumbled the flower to dust. “But it’s not natural. ” I paused again, this time to let them see it for themselves, the clouds thick with microscopic toxin scrubbers and ozone patchers, the grass designed to suck moisture out of even the driest desert air and stand tall against frost and drought, buzzing and rippling with new populations of genetically modified bumblebees and squirrels. Let the mechs who were still missing Mommy and Daddy flash on Mommy’s lineless lift-tucked face or Daddy’s anabolically enhanced biceps and the roid martinis that shot his testosterone through the roof.

Bliss. Raw jolts of emotion as if there was no body, no bed, no Lia Kahn, only the roiling froth of joy grief terror pain joy. ” “I” was an illusion, evanescent, a null spot at the eye of the hurricane, an emptiness that drew its reality from the storm swirling around it. There was want. A surge of need, pain and pleasure welded together, craving, and the sweet excruciation of denial, giving way, finally, inevitably, to satisfaction. There were no stories and no faces, but then I saw his face, amber eyes flashing, spiraling silver making his flesh shimmer in the light, lips curled, knowing.

Org-made. ” I crumbled the flower to dust. “But it’s not natural. ” I paused again, this time to let them see it for themselves, the clouds thick with microscopic toxin scrubbers and ozone patchers, the grass designed to suck moisture out of even the driest desert air and stand tall against frost and drought, buzzing and rippling with new populations of genetically modified bumblebees and squirrels. Let the mechs who were still missing Mommy and Daddy flash on Mommy’s lineless lift-tucked face or Daddy’s anabolically enhanced biceps and the roid martinis that shot his testosterone through the roof.

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