Machine Of Death Read Online Free

moved past, the giggler took a deep breath and said, “Oh, Robin! Don’t take it so seriously! It’s probably not true!”
    Rick watched and saw the other knuckle at her eyes. “But what if it is?” she said. ”I can’t believe he’d…” Then they drifted out of his earshot.
    When he looked back at the corner, someone else was walking his way, a tall guy about his age. When he saw Rick staring he broke into a sheepish grin and shrugged, waving a slip of paper in a matter-of-fact way. “Fifth time I’ve taken the test, fifth time I’ve gotten this answer.” His smile vanished, and his face clouded over. “Still not quite sure what it means, you know?” 
    Before Rick could say anything—or get a look at the prediction, which, to be honest, was what he wanted to do—Mr. Five-Times had moved past and was swallowed by the mall traffic. Now the store was empty but for two kids filling a bag with jelly beans, and two figures under the Machine sign. One, presumably an employee, had a handful of bills in his hand; the other was a middle-aged woman with her index finger in her mouth. A few moments later her head jerked down, and she stepped a little to her right—giving Rick his first live look at a Death Machine.
    It was…
cute
, that was the only word for it. Squat and stout, with stubby little legs. The hole for your finger was larger than he’d expected, and its location made the unit look like a little gunmetal-gray piggy.
    He couldn’t help looking back up at the woman’s face as she read her slip, her eyes widening for a second before she stuck the paper in her pocket and wandered off toward the chocolate section. Rick surmised that the slip hadn’t said “ FUDGE .” As he watched, she paused to draw her prediction out again, staring as if it might have changed in the last few seconds. Her brow furrowed, one finger idly tapping her chin, eyes a million miles away.
    “Twenty bucks.”
    The employee’s voice, bored and impatient, snapped Rick from his observation. “Huh?”
    An exasperated sigh. “Twenty bucks, for the Machine. Or are you just going to stand there and block the line?”
    Embarrassed, Rick set his bag down and reached for his wallet, turning to apologize to the people behind him. Nobody there. He was the line in its entirety.
    Pulling out a trio of fives and a bunch of singles—he had a twenty, but the kid had annoyed him—he thrust them out, saying, “Pretty funny. What comedy clubs are you working at?”
    Snatching the money away, the guy scowled as a flush spread under his bad skin. ”Whatever, dude. I get tired of people standing in front of the Machine all day while they decide whether or not to go through with it.”
    “Yeah, must be really draining. I bet you didn’t hesitate at all, right?”
    “Me? I’m not doing that thing, not ever.” He shook his head and gave the Machine a look of complete and utter disdain. “I mean, it’s cool if people pay me to get themselves all freaked out, but that’s not something I wanna know, ’kay?” After a pause he added, “No refunds.”
    “None wanted,” Rick replied with a snarl, thoroughly nettled by the attitude. “I’m not afraid.”
    “Go right ahead, then,” was the answer as his bills were added to a sizable wad. No credit cards for the Death Machine, it appeared. After the money was tucked away the guy looked at him with a questioning glance. “You going to go today, or maybe you want a rain check?”
    That was it. “Okay, I want to talk to to your manager.”
    “Ha! Don’t have one.”
    Rick looked over at the girl behind the counter, ringing up candy purchases. “What about her? She your boss?”
    This prompted another laugh, along with a sneer. “I’m the boss. This is my Machine, I just rent a spot from the store. So, did you want to register a complaint? Because I promise I’ll get my best people on it right away.”
    “You own this? And it’s real?”
    “Yeah, it’s real, and yeah, it’s