It opened softly, almost sexually, and spread across the table like it was a time-lapse shot of vegetation being clawed apart by machine.

Mayhem watched it spread, her eyes tightening as the machine unfolded. It would work; it had to work so it must work, there were after all, she told herself, rules to the universe.

She told herself again that everything would be fine. And yet, it was all happening so fast that her eyes kept conjuring defects in the design; defects that invariably resolved themselves into smoothness before her eyes, only to have another flaw rise in some corner of her awareness. Mayhem had been holding her breath since she’d spoken the word and given the thing life; she gasped as it finished unfolding and began to spread its wings.

She didn’t have the design plans, and she certainly wasn’t authorized to build one, but there on the table before her, lay a gleaming razor-pup.

- to be continued?

i like to think so . . .

- finite

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