A response to B Nagel's "Pipes" in Flashy Fiction.
The network of pipes shuddered over our heads.
"Jillian, I don't think I can go any farther."
"Yes you can Roxanne. Only one more floor to the nexus. Concentrate on one hand at a time and we can rest when we get there." Gillian heard Roxane grunt behind her and felt the PVC pipes sway as Roxanne pulled herself up. The concrete walls were close and Gillian knocked her knee into the wall tearing her polyester pants. Old thinnet cables -- remnants of the first time this building was networked -- snaked like spiders in the narrow shaft.
Julian reached the nexus and clenched her legs around a horizontal pipe leaned out with one hand against the wall and held out a hand to help Roxanne. Without a word, Roxanne unwrapped both of the neural shunt cables wrapped through her belt loops and across her back crisscrossed like suspenders. Gillian used a pipe wrench to open one of the hubs on the nexus.
"Ready?" asked Gillian.
"Let's go!" said Roxanne.
They smelled burnt plastic, but found themselves in the Doctor's TARDIS. The show had just begun. Why the government would outlaw anything this good, didn't make sense.
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