Jon Richter

“James, call Frazer for me.’ He sighed, deciding it was time for a break. ‘Of course, Eugene,’ replied the AI, its soothing voice seeming to emanate from the air around him. It came from speakers built into the walls of every room, part of the apartment’s ‘smart’ technology, like the integrated lift shaft that brought the spiderlike delivery robots up to him at 07.20 every morning. James’s own circuitry was similarly hard-wired into the building’s superstructure, meaning the AI could operate every appliance and gadget in the building.”
― Jon Richter, The Warden

“And you know what else I heard?’ Eugene rolled his eyes. Frazer’s ‘news’ was usually sourced from Natter, the micro-blogging service that had become increasingly popular as people’s other connections with the outside world had been gradually severed. Eugene steered clear of social media; in his opinion it was a cesspit of gossip and scare stories more infectious than the virus itself. ‘Go on, enlighten me,’ he said sceptically. Frazer’s dark skin paled as he glanced over his shoulder. Eugene wondered who he thought might overhear; the only other pair of ears in his apartment belonged to James. ‘I heard this latest strain is making zombies.’ Eugene snorted. ‘Zombies? You’ve been working on your video game for too long.’ ‘I’m not shitting you. Proper Walking Dead-style, groaning, rotting dead people, shambling around out there. I saw footage. I can send it to you.”
― Jon Richter, The Warden