Blade Runner Read Online Free

active (and irresponsible)
contributions, I had plenty of problems with my
stumps. My prostheses gave me both blisters and neurofibromatosis
– a disorder of the nervous system which causes
benign tumours. My nerve endings were growing, but as they
lacked the space for development fibromas would appear.
They were terribly painful and caused my stumps to become
hypersensitive, making any movement and particularly walking
impossible for me. I went through patches where I could
not leave the house for three or four months at a stretch, not
even to attend school. I would have to stay home and study
alone. I missed school terribly.
    A couple of years after my parents divorced and our
madcap adventures came to a temporary end, my father
moved to a freehold in Honeydew, just outside Johannesburg.
We were delighted as once again we had more space
than we could use at our disposition. There was even a rather
dusty football pitch full of weeds and stones. Sometimes Carl
and I would play football with the local township kids,
running between the goats and chickens that roamed freely.
We did not always understand everything they were telling
us: at home we spoke English with my mother's family and
Afrikaans with my father's family (there are eleven official
languages in South Africa), but it made little real difference.
Our joint enthusiasm to play football and run after that ball
was more than enough to bridge any language barrier.
During the breaks in the matches, Carl and I would take our
new friends on terrifying bike rides where ramping over
bushes and spinning the wheels were part of the experience.
The football pitch was off the beaten track. There was little
nearby aside from long grass and small tin huts with their
outside fireplaces. It was quiet and peaceful. It did not take
Carl and me long to realise that it was the ideal place to fly
our kites, some of which we had bought and others we had
built. At the end of each day spent playing we would head
home in our mini Land Rover. If Carl was at the wheel the
journey was far quicker, but we inevitably came home
covered in scrapes and grazes thanks to his short cuts
through the shrubbery. We were unstoppable.
    On arriving at the farm you were greeted by a small black
gate that was set back from the road and opened onto a dirt
track leading up to the house. The track was in fact a long
sand road flanked on either side by massive jacaranda trees
with their distinctive purple blooms. The little green and
white house looked just like a farmhouse. It was the perfect
theatre for our adventures.
    I loved the place with a fierce intensity. We had all the
freedom and the space to express ourselves, be it to drive
around in our mini Land Rover, run around or whack golf
balls into each corner of the garden.
    We spent every second weekend with our dad and often
brought friends along. I remember one summer day when,
together with my friend Craig, I decided to build the ultimate
tree house. I told Craig it had to be the biggest and the best.
It was imperative that it have a long tow rope, so that in
much the same way as a lift functioned, we would be able to
get in and out of the house quickly without having to stop at
each of the many floors. I detailed my vision to him as
though it was the most straightforward idea in the world.
Craig in his turn showed equal naivety and enthusiasm by
countering that we needed to find the biggest tree on the
property and then choose that tree to be host to our castle.
    Quickly we selected an enormous jacaranda tree that was
situated between the driveway and the boundary fence. That
accomplished, we sat down to write a list of the necessary
equipment:
A hammer (that was sure to reduce our fingers to pulp
during the building)
Nails (that were equally sure to damage our fingers)
Wooden boards
A ladder (from which we were certain to tumble)
A 50-metre steel cable (which, as we quickly learnt, should
have been both thicker and more resistant)
A pulley so we could