“Cognitive Hazards, Incorporated. Doctor Hazard speaking.” Doctor Cognitive Hazard was the Black Brotherhood’s premier neurotechnologist. Give him a colander, some magnets, and some copper wire, and he could make a decent meditation aid, or at least a very short range pyrokinetic enhancer.
“Hazard? Just the man I wanted to speak to! This is Holocaust, and-”
“No, Oc.”
“You haven’t even heard what I wanted to talk to you about yet?”
“You want me to make you a neuro-enhancer to hide under your hat so you can cheat and get your license to practice Forbidden Sciences back without really earning it. I’m just suprised you haven’t called sooner.”
“Well, yeah, I also want to be ten years younger and better looking, but that’s not what I want to talk about, either. Josh found the Antiplasmate.”
“You’re serious? How? Where? I have some equipment, it’s untested, but it might help. I haven’t heard from Josh in like six years. Why didn’t he call everyone to tell us?”
“He’s been drunk. He found the Antiplasmate on C-SPAN. Ignorance incarnate has claimed the Oval Office.”
“It makes a sick sort of sense, when you think about it.”
“I’ve been trying not to. I’m in the bar with Josh.”
