Burning Chrome

Mercifully, the whole thing is starting to fade, to be-

come an episode. When I do still catch the odd glimpse,

it's peripheral; mere fragments of Violet Chrome,

confining herself to the corner of an eye. There was

that flying-wing liner over Vancouver last week, but

it was almost translucent. And the shark-fin roadsters

have gotten scarcer, and freeways discreetly avoid un-

folding themselves into the gleaming eighty lane

monsters she was forced to drive last month in her rented

Toyota. And I know that none of it will follow her to

Bangkok; her vision is narrowing to a single wave-

length of probability. She's worked hard for that. Tele-

vision helped a lot.