Blindsight
December, 1986
That's my mark, Juanito told himself. That one, there. That one for sure. He stared at the new dinkos coming off the midday shuttle from Earth. The one he meant to go for was the one with no eyes at all, blank from brow to bridge of nose, just the merest suggestions of shadowy pits below the smooth skin of the forehead. As if the eyes had been erased, Juanito thought. But, in fact, they had probably never been there in the first place. It didn't look like a retrofit gene job, more like a prenata...
