Tin Men And Flesh Robots
A puff of dark yellow smoke slowly left a pair of cracked and shivering lips.
For the second time this morning, Agent M82 looked with a scowl at his branded
JoyPuffs© and wondered why he had even bought the damn thing. He was freezing,
and a few puffs of a cheap cig would have soothed him wonderfully, but of course
an agent of SMILE couldn’t be caught with something as brand-unfriendly as that.
The detective snuggled tighter in his wool coat – no fancy Warmth and Comfort© suits for the likes of him. He cursed one last time his broken
snowmobile, before continuing his walk toward the factory. He made a crunch with
each step of his heavy boots, just loud enough to be heard above the howling of
the wind.