The Sex Sphere

Cover of book The Sex Sphere
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Categories: Fiction
We spent a couple of hours prying the ends off the concrete casings. Now it would be just a matter of pulling out the fuel rods and extracting the pellets of plutonium oxide.
Just? Airborne plutonium
... particles are among the most toxic substances known to man. We’d need glove boxes and breathing suits, if not remote manipulators. Back in the office I tried to explain this to Beatrice, but she flew into a rage and called me a coward.
She made it clear that I’d be shot if I didn’t get a bomb together in time for Easter, a bomb for St. Peter’s Square. If we all got poisoned in the process of assembling the bomb, it didn’t matter; there were others to take our places in the front lines of revolutionary justice. Crazy bitch.
There was another problem, the business about St. Peter’s Square. Presumably Sybil and Tom and Ida would be there. No way I was going to let the bomb go off. I’d show Beatrice who was a coward. For all practical purposes I was already dead. Or nearly so. I only hoped I could still get lucky.
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The Sex Sphere
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