Empty bottles and concentric rings of condensation decorate the surface of a rickety table. The kitchen of the low-budget hotel suite lacks utensils so Gwen #69 opens each bottle with her teeth. Spawned by reckless science she possesses a peculiar melange of both human and robotic capabilities. Of all the Gwen Stacy clones #69 has wallowed in despondency the longest. By now most others have either located agreeable sinecures within the solar system or else terminated their own existences with ruthless, mechanical precision. For the umpteenth time Gwen 69 descends into alcoholic oblivion whi... Show more