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226 pages, Kindle Edition
Published April 4, 2016
"Modern science can change the genetic makeup of a person, but it can't give me more time. No, nothing so helpful as that."

"I play a soft chord, then another until the sounds blend together and rise towards the vaulted ceiling in a beautiful harmony. The soft song crescendos as I press harder on the keys, burying all those wretched feelings I'm not supposed to have, the thoughts I'm not supposed to think, into the notes echoing in the dark room."
"I chuckle under my breath. 'You're really bad at this whole 'impersonating a bad guy' thing.'
'I'll take that as a compliment.'"
I hear the insult behind her carefully concocted words: greedy whore.
I smile at her attempt to hurt me. It’s not an insult if it’s a fact.
"It’s not a party until there’s a double homicide, I suppose."
She struggles to feel human.
In 2256, the only remnants of civilization on Earth’s first colonized planet, Kepler, are the plant-covered buildings and the nocturnal, genetically spliced bug-people nesting within them: the Cull. During the day, Syl leaves her home in the sewers beneath Elite City to scavenge for food, but at night the Cull come looking for a meal of their own. Syl thought gene splicing died with the Android War a century ago. She thought the bugs could be exterminated, Elite city rebuilt, and the population replenished. She’s wrong.
Whoever engineered the Cull isn’t done playing God. Syl is abducted and tortured in horrific experiments which result in her own DNA being spliced, slowly turning her into one of the bugs. Now she must find a cure and stop the person responsible before every remaining man, woman, and child on Kepler is transformed into the abomination they fear.
He struggles not to.
For Bastion, being an android in the sex industry isn’t so bad. Clubbing beneath the streets of New Elite by day and seducing the rich by night isn’t an altogether undesirable occupation. But every day a new android cadaver appears in the slum gutters, and each caved in metal skull and heap of mangled wires whittles away at him.
Glitches—androids with empathy—are being murdered, their models discontinued and strung up as a warning. Show emotion, you die. Good thing Bastion can keep a secret, or he would be the next body lining the street.
He can almost live with hiding his emotions. That is, until a girl shows up in the slums—a human girl, who claims she was an experiment. And in New Elite, being a human is even worse than being a Glitch. Now Bastion must help the girl escape before he becomes victim to his too-human emotions, one way or another.
The anatomy of the Cull has always done what it was intended to do—terrify and confuse. The creature's head is almost human, but sharp mandibles peek from each corner of its mouth. Its eyes are milky, unseeing. Cull are human in the way that a scrambled egg is still an egg.
Who's to say we didn't destroy ourselves? If I've learned anything from the few yellowed and fragile history books that remain, it's that mankind loves nothing more than a scapegoat.
“Bastion.” She breathes my name like she would breathe a prayer.
There's a sharp ache in the hollow of my chest. It hurts and I hate it. It's something I know well, yet I wish I did not.
I am forever lost to this flesh and blood girl.