{"id":134332,"date":"2018-12-03T09:54:59","date_gmt":"2018-12-03T09:54:59","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/?page_id=134332"},"modified":"2018-12-03T09:54:59","modified_gmt":"2018-12-03T09:54:59","slug":"the-colored-lens-18-winter-2016","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/?page_id=134332","title":{"rendered":"The Colored Lens #18 \u2013 Winter 2016"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a name=\"start\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/12\/Cover.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/12\/Cover-790x1024.png\" alt=\"Cover\" width=\"790\" height=\"1024\" class=\"aligncenter size-large wp-image-49096\" srcset=\"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/12\/Cover-790x1024.png 790w, http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/12\/Cover-231x300.png 231w, http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/12\/Cover-768x996.png 768w, http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/12\/Cover.png 1271w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 790px) 100vw, 790px\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p><center><br \/>\n<FONT SIZE=7 STYLE=\"font-size: 48pt\">The Colored Lens<\/FONT><\/center><\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\"><br \/>\n<FONT SIZE=6><center>Speculative Fiction Magazine<\/center><\/FONT><\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\"><br \/>\n<FONT SIZE=5 STYLE=\"font-size: 20pt\"><center>Winter 2016 &ndash; Issue #18<\/center><\/FONT><\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\"><br \/>\n<BR><br \/>\n<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\"><br \/>\n<FONT SIZE=5><center>Featuring works by George S. Walker, Anton Rose, Jamie Killen, J. M. Evenson, Nathan Wunner, Dale Carothers, Rhoads Brazos, Derrick Boden, Amelie Daigle, Will Gwaun, Jude-Marie Green, and C. Allen Exline.<\/center><\/FONT><\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\"><br \/>\n<FONT SIZE=5><center><br \/>\n<\/center><\/FONT><\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\"><br \/>\n<BR><br \/>\n<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\"><br \/>\n<FONT SIZE=5><center>Edited by Dawn Lloyd and Daniel Scott<br \/>\nHenry Fields, Associate Editor<\/center><\/FONT><\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\"><br \/>\n<BR><br \/>\n<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\"><br \/>\n<FONT SIZE=5><center>Published by Light Spring LLC <\/center><\/FONT><br \/>\n<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\"><br \/>\n<FONT SIZE=5><center>Fort Worth, Texas<\/center><\/FONT><\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\"><br \/>\n<FONT SIZE=5><center>&copy; Copyright 2016, All Rights Reserved<\/center><\/FONT><\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\"><br \/>\n<BR><br \/>\n<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\"><br \/>\n<FONT COLOR=\"#000080\"><SPAN LANG=\"zxx\"><U><center><A HREF=\"http:\/\/www.TheColoredLens.com\/\"><FONT SIZE=5>www.TheColoredLens.com<\/FONT><\/A><\/center><\/U><\/SPAN><\/FONT><\/P><br \/>\n<\/center><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"margin-bottom: 0in\"><BR><br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal\"><br \/>\n<a name=\"TOC\"\/><\/a><br \/>\n<a id=\"TOC\"\/><\/a><\/p>\n<h1 align=\"center\">Table of Contents<\/h1>\n<ul>\n<li><a href=\"#home\">I Will Bring You Home<\/a> by George S. Walker<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#heart\">Me and My Heart<\/a> by Anton Rose<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#hands\">These Old Hands<\/a> by Jamie Killen<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#stardust\">We Are Stardust<\/a> by J. M. Evenson<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#ashes\">Lighting Fire To Ashes<\/a> by Nathan Wunner<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#above\">A Life Lived Above<\/a> by Dale Carothers<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#climes\">Marching into Blue Climes<\/a> by Rhoads Brazos<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#memory\">A Memory, Perfected<\/a> by Derrick Boden<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#others\">Others<\/a> by Amelie Daigle<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#pixel\">Pixel Heart<\/a> by Will Gwaun<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#miracles\">Miracles Wrought Before Your Eyes<\/a> by Jude-Marie Green<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#darkly\">Darkly with the Shadows<\/a> by C. Allen Exline<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<p><\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"home\"><\/a><H1 LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\"><br \/>\n<FONT FACE=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><FONT SIZE=6>I Will Bring You Home<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy George S. Walker<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA thud of rock woke Sykeet, followed by a rattling of dislodged crystals against the woven walls of her hanging hut. There were no fire pots in her lower reach of the rookery. No light from the moons, either: a storm beat against the suspended village. Her wings twitched in the dark.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere was cursing, then a shriek of panic, \u201cThe fledglings!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSykeet darted from her hut like a harpoon, flying blind toward the cr\u00e8che net. Her long wings beat the air, lifting her upward. Sleet hissed against rock, giving her only a minimal sense of location in the dark. More rocks thudded above. She heard the twangs of over-stretched ropes snapping.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe called shrilly to her daughter, \u201cKyree!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere were voices in the dark: other mothers and the faint cries of fledglings. Then from above, a wild flapping of fabric and netting. She couldn&#8217;t see a thing.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe falling canopy hit her, a glancing blow that knocked loose feathers and sent her tumbling in the dark. She heard waves crashing against the rocky base of the spire below.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSykeet caught air in her wings, regaining control. Still blind. The plummeting cr\u00e8che net had fallen below her. She pulled her wings against her body and dove into what she hoped was open air.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cKyree!\u201d she called again.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe panicked brood, trapped in the net, screeched as they fell toward the sea.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSykeet followed their cries. The net hadn&#8217;t snagged on the crystal-crusted spire. If she could catch it with the talons of her feet or wings, she might slow its fall.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut a gust from the storm blew her sideways, away from the screams. She beat air frantically, trying to get back.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere was a splash as net and brood plunged into the sea.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cKyree!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCold sleet crusted her feathers, numbing muscles. Spray from the waves blew against her as she fought to stay above them, circling blindly and calling, trying to find her daughter.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nUnable to see, she slammed into the spire. Pain shot through her. Dazed and disoriented, she grabbed hold, talons clutching crystals. Fragments cracked loose from the rock. She slipped closer to the waves. Sea spray filled her open beak as she turned toward the water. She choked and coughed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSykeet could only cling there, shivering from pain and cold, too numb to take flight. She listened for fledglings, hearing only the roar of wind. Waves pounded the rocky base below her. Her eyes stung from sleet and spray. When she tried to climb lower, more crystals broke off, nearly dropping her into the cold sea.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe folded her wings close against her to conserve heat, and pressed her head against the rock. The world had gone dark, taking the thing she cherished.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe shivered through the night, praying for some sign that her daughter had survived. She saw nothing, heard nothing.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut in the dark hours of early morning, she suddenly dreamt she was elsewhere. Sleet and spray still beat against her, but instead of the rocky spire, she felt she was pressed against something smooth. A net held her down.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThen the dream was gone, as quickly as it had come.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOther mothers from the rookery pried Sykeet&#8217;s talons from the rock wall in the morning. The storm had moved on, and she saw blue sky, red sun, and white clouds as they flew her in a net to the aerie above. Their voices sang in a melody of sad calls. Sykeet remembered singing to Kyree in the cr\u00e8che net. Nothing could fill that void.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWooden perches stuck out like a thorny crown around the spire&#8217;s peak, offered up toward the giant red sun. Sykeet&#8217;s stiffness began to thaw in the sunlight as she gripped a perch facing east. Despondent, she didn&#8217;t preen her green and yellow feathers, leaving them matted from the storm.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOne of the mothers, Teeka, swooped onto the perch beside her. They were both silent for a time, then Teeka said, \u201cThere will be other broods.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNot for me,\u201d said Sykeet. \u201cFate has destroyed me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSome accept Fate. Some deny it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat&#8217;s to deny?\u201d Sykeet said miserably. \u201cI heard the net hit the water.\u201d She remembered the splash in painful clarity.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThey took it,\u201d said Teeka.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWho?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTeeka cocked her head. \u201cDidn\u2019t you know? The Yantay.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe Yantay rarely ventured near the spire. \u201cHow do you know?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThey threw the rocks that ripped it down.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSykeet remembered the thud of rocks and the rattle of crystals falling on her hut. If a pod of Yantay had taken her daughter, drowning was a mercy by comparison.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAbruptly she had a vision, a dream turned inside out: She was trapped in the cr\u00e8che net. Its knotted mesh pressed into her feathers, binding wings and legs. Only her curved beak was partly free as she breathed between cords of the mesh. Cold water spattered her head, spray that leapt from the crests of waves breaking against the thing she rode. She scratched at reptilian scales with her wing talons, feeling cold flesh beneath. Her claws had no effect.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTeeka&#8217;s words pulled her back to her perch atop the spire. \u201cThe Lord of the rookery&#8217;s fledgling was in the net. He&#8217;s pledged rank and treasure for his rescue.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI don&#8217;t want that! I want Kyree!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cJust as well. The Lord wouldn\u2019t grant them to a hen.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSykeet stretched her wings. She wanted to believe, wanted to save her daughter. But a search would only bring more heartache.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nExcept&#8230; the vision of Kyree had been so real.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhich way did the Yantay go?\u201d she demanded.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou might as well ask the wind.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019ll ask the Lord of the rookery.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou can\u2019t go to him by yourself!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI died last night, Teeka, down by the sea. Come with me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThere\u2019s nothing for me here but to finish dying.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDon\u2019t be foolish!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTogether we are two, Teeka.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe Lord held court from a crystal cave chiseled into the spire. Lattices of rope and sea vines cascaded around the cave. The drakes clung to them, jostling for position in the swaying lattices. Their talons also clutched harpoons carved from reptile bones. Closer to the cave, the knights of the rookery wore spurs on their legs. Sykeet and Teeka had nothing. They were the only hens. If it weren\u2019t for her daughter, Sykeet would never have come, and Teeka clearly wished she hadn\u2019t. The knights were nearly twice their size, powerfully muscled, and the other drakes not much smaller. Sykeet took hold of a dangling rope of the lattice, beating her wings to keep from being hurled off as drakes above her whipped the lattice into a frenzy.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe Lord watched with hooded eyes from his perch in the cave. His feathers were pale from age, the feather barbs of his plumes brittle and sparse. But his curved beak was long and sharp.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe cacophony continued until the Lord finally shouted, \u201cSilence!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe turbulence of the rope lattices slowed, and Sykeet climbed higher. Teeka did not.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWho vows to find the Prince?\u201d called the Lord.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA chorus answered.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWho vows to bring him home?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe chorus was louder, sending the lattices swaying again. Sykeet hung on.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThen follow my knights,\u201d ordered the Lord.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe lattices jerked as the drakes took flight. Sykeet and Teeka were left behind as the drakes followed heading in all directions.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhere?\u201d cried Sykeet. \u201cDoesn&#8217;t anyone know?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe Lord glared out of his cave at the two stragglers.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhy are you here?\u201d he demanded.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cFor the brood.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhy are you here?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTeeka dropped from the lattice, fleeing.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSykeet had nothing to lose. \u201cWhich way did the Yantay go?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThis isn&#8217;t your hunt,\u201d said the Lord.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMy fledgling, my hunt,\u201d she snapped. Letting go with her talons, she plunged from the lattice.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSykeet swooped down past where the mothers had rescued her, but Teeka had disappeared.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAhead, high above the waves, she saw four drakes in an unbalanced V formation. She pounded air with her wings to catch up, breastbone straining with each beat.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe drakes dangled harpoons from ropes clutched in their hind talons. She had nothing. If there was a battle with the Yantay, it would be on their terms, not hers. She wished Teeka had stuck with her.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe was nearly to the trailing edge of the V when someone spotted her. A knight led the V. At the lagging edge was the flock&#8217;s rivener.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSykeet!\u201d shouted the rivener. \u201cWhere are you flying?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI seek the Yantay,\u201d she said, gasping for breath.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAs the bait?\u201d The others in the V laughed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThey took the fledglings!\u201d she said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd you want the reward.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo. My daughter.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYet you already threw your harpoon and lost it?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSykeet didn&#8217;t reply to the insult. They knew she had no harpoon.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou should be home, weaving nets,\u201d said the rivener.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAt the head of the V, the knight turned his head, beak bright yellow in the sun. \u201cDon&#8217;t get in our way.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe struggled just to keep up outside the V. Her wing muscles burned from the effort. Was this even the right direction? The drakes surely didn&#8217;t know. Sykeet followed them only because this was the direction from where she&#8217;d spent the night clinging to the rock. She tried to remember clues from last night.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe Yantay swam in pods: one monster Alpha and a group of offspring. She&#8217;d watched them, but never gotten close. The reptiles had two heads on long necks, with a line of sharp dorsal spines sticking up. An Alpha must have led its pod to the spire during the storm, knowing the flock would seek shelter in their huts. A full-grown Yantay could hurl rocks gripped in its mouths farther than any harpoon. High enough to hit the cr\u00e8che net. Enough rocks must have brought it down.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAfterwards the pod had swum away with the net. But rather than drowning the fledglings, they&#8217;d kept them alive. As she thought of Kyree in the net, her mental vision flipped upside down.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe was looking up from the sea, not down, still struggling in the net. Fledglings screamed as the jaws of a Yantay bore down on the cr\u00e8che net. Bones crunched. One scream was extinguished. A rain of feathers scattered over the net. She smelled blood and felt herself huddle against another fledgling, beak down.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSykeet desperately wanted to be there, to pull her daughter free. Was the vision real? If so, where was the pod? She seemed to see through Kyree&#8217;s eyes: gaze jumping between the weave of the net, Yantay scales, and a bloody mass of bones and feathers. The cr\u00e8che net stretched along dorsal spines. And through the net she glimpsed a spire jutting from the sea: a double spire with a lace-work of crystals bridging the gap.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWith a start, Sykeet emerged from the vision. She knew where that was.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe veered away from the flight the drakes were taking.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhere&#8217;s she going?\u201d one of them called.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWho cares where a hen goes?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut the rivener dropped out of the V to follow her. \u201cDid you see something?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat do you care?\u201d she retorted.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAlone, you&#8217;re nothing,\u201d he said. \u201cWhat did you see?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI know where they are.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI don&#8217;t see anything.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI didn&#8217;t say I saw them. I said I know where they are.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe rivener looked back at the receding V. \u201cIf this is a trick, Sykeet&#8230;\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cCome with me if you want to save them.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou&#8217;ve got gall, telling me what to do. I&#8217;m the one with a harpoon. You&#8217;re no more use in a fight than a fledgling.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou were flying in the wrong direction.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo one knows where they went.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI know.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBecause you saw a feather on the waves?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cCome or don&#8217;t come.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIf you know where the pod is, you need me. Alone, you&#8217;re nothing but bait. What&#8217;s the point of that? Just drown yourself now.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSykeet held her anger. The important thing was to save Kyree.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI&#8217;ve gone with a knight against an Alpha,\u201d he said. \u201cHarpooned one of the necks, then got clear while the knight attacked the other head. It takes strength and speed and skill. You have none of those.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThough she ignored him, he stayed with her. She beat her wings, heading for the double spire, watching the dark green water below for feathers. She saw only silver flashes of fish below the surface. The vision had seemed real, but where was the proof?\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe flew closer, not trailing as if he planned to rejoin the knight&#8217;s V. He wanted the reward and was betting she&#8217;d lead him to it.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou came when none of the others did,\u201d he said. \u201cEither you know something or you&#8217;re grief-crazed. Which is it?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBoth.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo. It&#8217;s one or the other, but you haven&#8217;t figured out which yet. Hens never know their own minds. That&#8217;s the fault of laying eggs.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSykeet clamped her beak shut, saying nothing. She needed him to help save her daughter.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSince you know nothing of fighting, I&#8217;ll explain. This-\u201d He swung his harpoon up by its rope, catching it deftly in the talons of his other leg. \u201c-is a bladed harpoon. Not the same as a barbed harpoon. You&#8217;d hurl those at Yantay offspring, to keep them from diving. But an Alpha never dives. The blade pierces like a beak and comes out again just as easy. So you can strike again and again, at either head. You follow me?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe nodded, to keep him from repeating.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIf this was a defensive raid, we&#8217;d go in with barbed harpoons, spear a few of the offspring, and retreat before the Alpha could reach us. But I&#8217;m betting an Alpha knocked down the net and took it. Attacking an Alpha is harder. Especially when there&#8217;s only one of us.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe rivener wasn&#8217;t very good at counting. But he had a harpoon, which made up for it. She focused on the sea. The double spire stood up from the waves ahead. She hadn&#8217;t spotted a pod. An Alpha should be easy to spot with its serpentine body undulating on the waves. And sometimes the offspring breached with a splash.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe interrupted her thoughts. \u201cHow do you know?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow do you know where the fledglings are?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI saw the pod near the double spire.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBefore you got here?\u201d His voice changed, dripping disgust. \u201cBy flying with the dead in the clouds?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe wished she hadn&#8217;t answered. This could take a dangerous turn. \u201cJust a dream,\u201d she muttered.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou led me here because of a dream?\u201d he shouted.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe tried to calm him. \u201cI followed the net down during the storm. I spent the night clinging to the rock in the cold. Then I saw.\u201d Better to say no more.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow could you see in the dark?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI could hear.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou heard nothing!\u201d he bellowed. \u201cYou foolish hen! You led me from the real hunt only because of your imagination.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThen go back!\u201d The words were out before she could stop them.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe saw a white splash ahead, past the twin spires. She tried to see details with her huntress eyes, but the splash was gone. A breaching?\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTo the right of the spire,\u201d she said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat? Your dream?\u201d he railed. \u201cYour imaginary pod?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSykeet saw what might have been a rolling log with a branch sticking up. No, two branches.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThe Alpha,\u201d she said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere was another breaching near it. The rivener must have seen. He hooted and swooped down, low above the waves.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThey won&#8217;t have spotted us yet,\u201d he said. \u201cThey can&#8217;t see like I can.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe heard the eagerness in his voice, the thrill of the hunt.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI have to plan this,\u201d he said. \u201cOnly one of us, so only one chance.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe seemed to be talking to himself.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThe sun&#8217;s behind me,\u201d he said, \u201cso they&#8217;ll see my shadow just before I strike. If this were a defensive foray, at least two of us would dive, a harpoon for each head. But it&#8217;s just me. Wait \u2013 you. You could feint for the second head. Can you do that?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI can do anything for my daughter.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cJust be bait. Even a hen can do that. Fly as close as you can, otherwise both heads will attack me, and there&#8217;s no chance of saving the Prince.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe was only thinking of the Lord&#8217;s son, none of the others.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey skimmed low over the sea, wingtips practically touching the waves with each downbeat. Sykeet was panting to keep pace with the drake&#8217;s huge wings.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe Alpha&#8217;s body undulated atop the waves. She could make out something on its back. That must be the cr\u00e8che net, stretched like a web beneath its dorsal spines. The Yantay&#8217;s long necks swayed, heads bobbing ahead. Sykeet was too far away to detect motion in the net. Was Kyree still alive?\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe remembered Kyree crawling in the net in the aerie, tiny wing and hind talons clumsily climbing from strand to strand each time Sykeet came to feed her. She remembered her delicate, almost transparent wings covered with soft, immature feathers. The net that had supported her was now her prison. If not her tomb.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThree, four, five!\u201d announced the rivener. \u201cFive offspring around the Alpha. He gripped his harpoon with his right rear talons, rope in the left. \u201cBad to worse. And no chance of just pulling the net off the spines. It&#8217;s stretched tight. Have to cut it loose. Do you see the Prince?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere was someone in the net. She couldn&#8217;t tell who. But she saw motion, a beak through the net. She resisted the urge to call out to Kyree.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTime for strategy,\u201d said the rivener. \u201cI&#8217;ll strike at the right head. Unless it turns. Whichever I choose, you have to distract the other. Get in close enough for it to strike at you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClose enough for it to kill me, she thought.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere were at least three fledglings in the cr\u00e8che net. Corpses, too: bloody remains of bones and feathers. The Yantay were taking their time, relishing their feast. Rage boiled inside her. Rage that could get her killed without saving her daughter.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe rivener&#8217;s long wings beat slow and steady. Sykeet&#8217;s were faster, frantic.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGet ready,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOne of the offspring&#8217;s heads turned, spotting them. It trumpeted, and other heads turned toward it.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe rivener beat his wings faster, diving in just as the Alpha&#8217;s heads turned toward him. He veered right, hurling his harpoon at the last moment. The blade plunged into the Alpha&#8217;s neck with a solid thud. He hung onto the harpoon rope, swinging the head sideways. Both heads trumpeted, then there was a crack of breaking vertebrae.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe other head was arcing toward the rivener when Sykeet swooped in, tail and hind feathers fanned out with a sudden \u201cwhump\u201d of braking air.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe Alpha was startled, recoiling, and she collided with the head. Its jaws snapped on her tail feathers, and she gouged the single huge eye on its head with her beak.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt screamed, releasing her tail, and she beat her wings, desperately climbing into the air above it. Lost tail feathers swirled below her.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe remaining neck had collapsed at an unnatural angle across the Alpha&#8217;s back, spasming. The rivener landed on it. Tugging with the talons of both legs, he pulled loose the harpoon.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe other head should have been blind, but the neck curved toward him.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI told you to distract it!\u201d he roared. He flew toward the net stretched between the dorsal spines.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSykeet glimpsed Kyree trapped in the net. Her daughter was alive! She swooped fiercely at the Alpha&#8217;s head, ripping loose scales with her talons. The jaws lunged toward her, just missing her pinions. The eyeball welled with blood. How could it still see?\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe flew to the back of its neck and dug in with her hind and wing talons as it bucked. She bit deeply with her beak, tasting blood.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt hurled her free, and she tumbled in the air, barely gaining control above the waves. The Yantay offspring clustered around it, heads weaving dangerously near her, jaws snapping.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOn the Alpha&#8217;s back, the rivener used his harpoon to hack at the net strung between the dorsal spines. The remaining head swung toward him again.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThis time, Sykeet flew directly below the jaws, talons-first at its throat. She tore at its windpipe, and blood spurted. Air hissed from its torn throat as its roar of fury lost breath. She hung on with her talons, wings flapping for balance as the neck thrashed. The serpentine body below jerked, entering death throes. She had a sudden fear it would sink, carrying the cr\u00e8che net into the depths.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe rivener had trouble cutting the cords with the bone harpoon. But as Sykeet hung on, she saw him drag free a struggling fledgling.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTime to go,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe had the Prince.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo! The other fledglings!\u201d she shouted.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI can&#8217;t fight all the Yantay.\u201d Holding the Prince in his talons, he took flight. His harpoon dangled beneath one leg.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nKyree and another fledgling were still trapped in the net on the back of the dying Alpha. Blood jetted from its artery onto her feathers.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe dropped from its neck, beating her wings furiously as she pursued the rivener. He flew over the waves with slow, powerful strokes, carrying the Prince.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAs she caught up, she turned her beak sideways and snatched the rope with the harpoon. She yanked. It jerked from the rivener&#8217;s talons. He swore, losing the rhythm of flight.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe veered back toward the pod. He shouted after her, but he had the Prince. He wouldn&#8217;t risk his reward for the sake of a harpoon.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe landed on the back of the Alpha as its head collapsed onto the waves with a splash. In the cr\u00e8che net were Kyree, watching her with trust in her eyes, a crying fledgling she recognized as Toosa, and the mostly-eaten remains of the others.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe Alpha&#8217;s corpse was at the mercy of the waves now. The long body with its dorsal spines rocked from side to side, threatening to roll over. Sykeet shifted her grip on the harpoon.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAbruptly the net jerked back toward the Alpha&#8217;s tail.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe turned to see one of the Yantay offspring gripping the net in the jaws of both heads, dragging it into the sea. She tried to pull back, but her hollow-boned weight was no match. And the dorsal spines, once stiff on the Alpha&#8217;s back, had relaxed in death, offering no resistance.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe took flight, flapping toward the offspring by the tail.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe didn&#8217;t trust herself to throw the harpoon. She flew directly at the Yantay that gripped the net, wings beating furiously as she slashed with the bloody harpoon.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe Yantay trumpeted, releasing the net from both jaws. She kept flying at its heads, stabbing as the necks tried to weave out of the way. Blood sprayed over her feathers.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe Yantay dove to escape, but another lunged toward her, grabbing her dangling harpoon rope. As it pulled her toward it, she plunged the harpoon into its eye. It let go with a scream, and as she jerked the blade free, the Yantay dove beneath the waves.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNow there were only three of the offspring on the surface, necks weaving, heads trumpeting, wary.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe landed on the Alpha\u2019s back and pulled at the net with her talons, unwrapping cords tangled around the fledglings. Then she feverishly sawed at the net, hacking through another cord.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nKyree and Toosa struggled out just as a Yantay pulled on the net. She let go of the harpoon. Grasping a fledgling with each leg, she beat her wings, lifting off from the rolling Alpha. Her heart hammered as she struggled above the blood-streaked waves, flying back toward the rookery.<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"heart\"><\/a><H1 LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\"><br \/>\n<FONT FACE=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><FONT SIZE=6>Me and My Heart<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy Anton Rose<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI meet the man in a hotel outside of town. Room 304, just like he said. He\u2019s there when I arrive, watching football on the television. \u201cShut the door,\u201d he says, and I do.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe opens a briefcase and shows it to me: seven ounces of flesh suspended in liquid and plastic. \u201cWe good?\u201d he says.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI reach into my purse and unfurl the bundle of money. Six hundred pounds, made up mostly of fives and tens, scraps of cash collected over the months, small enough to avoid drawing any attention.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWe make the exchange, and the man walks towards the door.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWait.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe stops.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI don\u2019t know how to do it.\u201d I hesitate. \u201cCan you help?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019ll cost more.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow much?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnother two hundred.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI don\u2019t have that much.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe sighs. \u201cHow much you got?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe forty pounds left in my purse is for groceries, but I can worry about that later. I hold it out to him.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe takes it, opens his briefcase, and finds a bottle of clear liquid with a syringe. \u201cYou got a knife? Needle and thread?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe passes me the bottle. \u201cUse this before you begin. Rest\u2019s up to you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen I get home, it\u2019s ten o\u2019clock. I should have an hour before my husband gets back. I work quickly, checking diagrams on the internet before injecting the liquid into my side, just above one of my bruises. I use a kitchen knife, sterilised in boiling water. It stings at first, but the injection takes most of the pain away. I slice and carve with the knife, using a mirror to guide my trembling fingers until I make the final cut. For a moment, my senses plummet and the room feels darker, smaller, like all the texture has been buffed off the edge of the world. I make the switch.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe could be home any minute. I stitch myself back together with needle and thread, and it\u2019s only then that I realize I haven\u2019t thought about what to do with my old heart. I bury it in the garden.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI wait for the thump of his footsteps on the staircase, the sound of him fumbling at his clothes and climbing into bed. The smell of his breath, stale alcohol and smoke, his fingers in my hair and on my body. But the door never opens.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn the morning I find him asleep on the sofa. There\u2019s a beer can on the floor, and a pool of sticky liquid where the dregs have drained out. I clean it quickly before making breakfast, and when he wakes he\u2019s in one of his good moods, so things are okay.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen he leaves for work, I examine the stitching. It\u2019s already healed. The lines I drew with the knife have come back together, and my new heart beats underneath.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThings feel different now, like someone has turned the volume down by a couple of notches, like they\u2019ve gone into the settings and fiddled with the contrast.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn the garden, a flower has grown on the spot where I buried my heart. There\u2019s a single rose at its head, red like blood.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe rest of the week is okay. I keep to my normal routines, making sure the house is clean and dinner is on the table when he gets back from work. The days blur into each other, a steady grey.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOne day he throws a plate at the wall. It takes ages to clean all the grease, but I know he doesn\u2019t like his meat cooked that way so it\u2019s my own fault, really. He apologises later.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn the evenings, while he sits on the sofa watching television, I bring him drinks but I keep the pace slow so he never goes beyond the dulling stage. He touches me in bed, but if there are any marks still left on my chest, his groping fingers don\u2019t find them. On Friday he comes home with flowers and a bottle of my favourite wine. The weather is fine so we eat outside in the warm air. I try to enjoy the wine but it doesn\u2019t taste of anything. While we sit there he says it reminds him of one of our earliest dates. I see the rose in the garden and I wonder.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOn Saturday night he goes out with the guys. He kisses me when he leaves, but when he returns in the small hours he slams the door and I know it\u2019s time. He swipes at me clumsily, but when he tries to grab my arm his sweaty fingers slip and I escape into the kitchen. I grab a knife with one hand, the cordless phone with the other. I tell him to leave.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe smiles stupidly and slurs his words. \u201cCome on, baby, why all this?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn my chest, my heart is steady. \u201cIf you come near me, I\u2019ll use this knife, and if you don\u2019t leave, I\u2019ll call the police. I mean it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou\u2019re feisty tonight, eh?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI begin to dial the number.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe holds his hands up, smirking. \u201cOkay, okay &#8230;\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen he\u2019s out the door, I put it on the latch and speak through the gap. \u201cI don\u2019t want you to come back. Not ever. It\u2019s over. I mean it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe laughs. \u201cYou can\u2019t live without me, honey. You know that, and I know that. We love each other. We need each other.\u201d He walks away. \u201cI\u2019ll see you soon,\u201d he says.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen he\u2019s out of view, I close the door.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe thinks it\u2019s going to happen like all the other times. He\u2019ll come back grovelling, tell me how much he loves me. That he\u2019s sorry, that it will never happen again. And I\u2019ll take him back.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe\u2019s wrong.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThis time the locksmith will be here in an hour. This time I\u2019ll change my details at the bank. This time I\u2019ll go to the courts, get one of those orders. And this time I won\u2019t feel anything.<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"hands\"><\/a><H1 LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\"><br \/>\n<FONT FACE=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><FONT SIZE=6>These Old Hands<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy Jamie Killen<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrances heard a shriek as she approached the cottage door. Joseph hovered outside the threshold, twisting his cap in his hands. \u201cShe\u2019s bad, Frances. Says she can\u2019t take the pain.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe old woman gave him a dismissive wave. \u201cAh, she\u2019ll be fine, lad. It\u2019s nature\u2019s way.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat should I do?\u201d He was barely more than a boy, less than a year married. His face, normally nut brown from working in the fields all day, had a grey cast to it.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrances shouldered past him, Margaret right behind her. \u201cJust stay out of the way, boy, and let us work. I\u2019ve never lost a baby nor a mama yet, and I don\u2019t intend today to be my first.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nInside the cottage was dark, air thick with the smells of smoke, sweat, and urine. Frances could dimly make out Essie\u2019s form writhing on the small bed against the far wall. \u201cMargaret, get the window open and put on water to boil,\u201d she said, rummaging in her bag of supplies. The packets of powders and herbs went on the cottage\u2019s rickety table; Margaret would know without being told how to mix them.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrances carried the birthing stool and linen to the bedside. \u201cNow then, young Essie, let\u2019s have a look at you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nEssie\u2019s round face glistened, her cornsilk hair flattened against her scalp. \u201cOh, Frances, it hurts something terrible. I think something\u2019s wrong.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrances pushed back the blanket and peered between Essie\u2019s legs, pressing one hand against the swollen belly. \u201cNonsense, girl. Your mother said the same thing when she birthed you, and you were no trouble at all. We\u2019ve time yet.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhile Margaret boiled water and brewed the herbs, Frances got Essie out of bed and on her feet. At first she resisted, but Frances eventually got her to walk a circle around the small room. When Essie\u2019s next labor pains struck, the old woman helped her sink into a squatting position on the low birthing stool. \u201cMargaret, hold her up.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMargaret set aside the cup of brewed herbs and moved to support Essie\u2019s lower back. She was a thin, fragile-looking girl, but Frances knew she was far stronger than she seemed, and holding up Essie\u2019s limp weight posed no challenge. Frances eased down onto one knee, wincing at the stiffness in her bad hip. Pushing up Essie\u2019s skirt, she leaned down to check her again.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAt first glance, it appeared to be the start of a normal crowning. The lips of the vulva were stretched over a round, smooth surface, one a little bigger than a balled-up fist. Then Frances frowned and took a closer look. It was the right size to be the baby\u2019s head, true, but it was too dark, too shiny. Even if Essie had been bleeding, it wouldn\u2019t have stained the scalp that deep, gleaming black.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen Frances leaned up, Margaret\u2019s sharp brown eyes were watching her. Breech? she mouthed from behind Essie. The midwife shook her head.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cEssie, bite down on this, now. I\u2019ve got to reach in.\u201d She passed Margaret a leather strap and smeared her fingers with goose grease from a small jar.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nEssie tensed and let out a groan when Frances slipped her fingers past the mass. Frances felt around the sides of the object, pulse quickening with each moment that passed. The shape her fingers traced was a smooth ovoid. No limbs, no face, no bones. In place of soft, yielding flesh was a slick carapace or shell, hard as stone under Frances\u2019 fingers. As she explored, there was a flutter, some tapping from within, a pulse or a kick.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat is it? What\u2019s wrong with him?\u201d Essie\u2019s voice came out shrill and garbled around the strip of leather.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrances forced herself to meet Essie\u2019s eyes. Poor girl, she thought. And it\u2019s her first. \u201cWe can\u2019t know till you\u2019ve birthed,\u201d she said, and could see that Essie was too scared to ask again.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe rest of the labor Frances handled like any other, instructing Margaret to rub Essie\u2019s back when the pains came, applying salve to prevent tearing and blood loss. When the time came to push, Margaret moved to ready the linens. Frances watched her face, could see the shock pass over her features when she saw what was coming out. But then the girl steeled herself and looked away, busying herself with preparations. Frances took Essie\u2019s hand in her own arthritic fingers, not allowing herself to wince no matter how hard the girl squeezed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt came out smoothly, and Frances could see right away that Essie was in no danger. Margaret caught it as it slipped from between Essie\u2019s legs, a perfectly even, black shape, like obsidian with the edges smoothed away. There was no cord, nothing attaching it to Essie\u2019s body. Margaret\u2019s hands trembled as they held it, her throat working as she swallowed convulsively.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhy isn\u2019t he crying?\u201d Essie gasped. \u201cWhy isn\u2019t he crying?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe leaned forward and saw what she had delivered into the world, and the scream that ripped from her throat seemed to pierce Frances down to her bones.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy the time Frances and Margaret emerged from the cottage, Father Godfrey and the steward had arrived and stood waiting with Joseph. The sun, which had been high when Essie\u2019s labor began, touched the horizon. \u201cWell, is it true?\u201d the steward demanded.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIs what true, Master Hugh?\u201d Frances asked, unable to conceal her irritation.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat there has been a demon born here.\u201d He was a short, stocky man with rough peasant\u2019s features but an immaculately trimmed beard and a fine wardrobe. His pale face reddened when he was angry or nervous; at the moment he appeared nearly purple.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat about Essie? Is she ill? Can you not help her, Frances?\u201d Joseph pleaded.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrances patted the young man on the arm. \u201cShe\u2019s had a shock, but she\u2019ll live. We gave her medicine to calm her and help her sleep.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJoseph shifted from one foot to the other, eyes darting toward the cottage door. Father Godfrey cleared his throat. \u201cAnd what of the&#8230; the birth?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrances turned to Margaret. The girl held a basket in front of her, awkwardly, not letting it touch her body. She set it on the ground and took a hasty step back. Frances reached down and lifted the soiled cloth to reveal what lay inside.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMother of God,\u201d the steward breathed. Father Godfrey made the sign of the cross, eyes wide. Joseph, seeing it for the second time, let out an anguished gasp and moved a short distance away from the rest of them.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt lay cushioned by linens as though it were a real child. Dotting its surface were flecks of blood and mucus, residue that Frances would have cleaned off of a normal baby but could not bring herself to do now. As she pulled more of the cloth away to reveal it entirely, it gave a little twitch.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHugh darted back as if it had sprung at him. \u201cWhat is it?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrances pursed her lips, shifting to her good leg. \u201cYou think I know?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou\u2019re the midwife. You delivered the thing. How can you not know what it is?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell, I know it\u2019s no baby,\u201d she snapped.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFather Godfrey inched closer and bent over to inspect it. The hem of his cassock trailed in the dust before his feet. \u201cHas it been moving since the birth?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSince before,\u201d Margaret murmured. \u201cWe attended to Essie throughout her pregnancy and always there was kicking. What we thought was kicking.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cClearly, it is of the devil,\u201d the steward interjected.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYe\u2019re an expert on devils now, are ye?\u201d Frances muttered.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHugh shot her a poisonous look and turned to Father Godfrey. \u201cWhat is your opinion of it, Father?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe priest bit his lip, eyes fixed on the thing in the basket. He was a tall, thin man with a face younger than his years. His sandy hair and large grey eyes always reminded Frances of a skittish fawn. \u201cI have never heard of its like,\u201d he said at last. \u201cIt looks like an egg, but seems to made of some stone or mineral&#8230;\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell, we can see that. Could it be that the woman fornicated with a demon, producing this?\u201d the steward asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou shut your foul mouth!\u201d Joseph shouted, rushing toward Hugh. Father Godfrey managed to get between the two men before blows were exchanged. Frances glanced at Margaret, who eyed the steward with undisguised contempt.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou are obviously under duress, so I will forget that this incident occurred,\u201d Hugh said, adjusting his jerkin. \u201cBut it is plain as day that that thing is a source of evil. If it is an egg, then it will one day hatch, and I do not wish to see what is inside. \u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat does not mean it was Essie\u2019s doing,\u201d Father Godfrey replied, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. \u201cIt could be the result of an evil committed against her.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWho could perform such a curse?\u201d the steward asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNone of them spoke. The only sound was the clucking of Essie\u2019s hens as they pecked in the dirt around the wood pile. \u201cWould you have any knowledge of how to perform such a spell?\u201d Hugh stared at Frances as he asked the question. Father Godfrey\u2019s eyes widened and he bit his lip.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDon\u2019t be daft. I know nothing of spells,\u201d Frances said, lowering herself into a sitting position on the chopping block next to the woodpile. She forced herself to sound bored, secretly wondering if the day had finally arrived, as she always knew it would.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe steward folded his arms. \u201cIt is said that no mother or child you have attended has died. Surely the villagers exaggerate?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTo her left, Frances felt Margaret\u2019s body tense. \u201cTis no exaggeration,\u201d Frances answered calmly. \u201cAll have lived, although some do not show due gratitude.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHugh\u2019s face darkened further. Frances remembered the day he slid into her arms, blue and still with the cord wrapped around his neck. Two breaths into his sticky mouth and a slap to the arse had forced air into his lungs and set him squalling like any other newborn. Francis wondered now if she should have slapped him harder.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019d wager that such success is unknown, even for the most skilled midwife. One might be forgiven for suggesting it might even appear to be sorcery.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cFrances is a godly woman, Master Hugh. It is not her doing,\u201d Father Godfrey interjected quickly.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh,\u201d the steward said, raising an eyebrow, \u201cyou are certain of this?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSurely you are aware, Master Hugh, that all midwives must receive the approval of the bishop himself.\u201d Margaret\u2019s voice came out low and mild, but her glare was like frost. \u201cFrances has had permission renewed by three successive bishops, one just last year during his visit to the manor. Do you suggest that the bishop is incapable of identifying a witch?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe steward\u2019s eyes widened. \u201cI suggest no such thing! I simply&#8211;\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell, then, let us stop wasting time and discuss what to do with the abomination.\u201d She folded her hands primly in front of her apron. Frances had to feign a fit of coughing to hide her laughter.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJoseph stared at the basket with loathing. \u201cWe destroy it. We break it open and kill whatever is inside and burn anything that remains.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFather Godfrey picked at the front of his cassock. \u201cWe are not yet certain that it is of demonic origin&#8230;\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI am.\u201d Joseph strode to the woodpile and seized his ax. The priest and the steward took several steps back, giving him wide berth.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHefting the ax in both arms, Joseph paused, a hint of doubt in his eyes. Then, shaking his head once, he lifted it over his head and brought it down on the egg.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere was a clanging sound, like the church bell, and the ax bounced back into the air. Joseph staggered back, nearly dropping it. From where she sat on the stump, Frances peered into the basket. The thing appeared untouched.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHere,\u201d the steward said quietly, holding out his hand, \u201clet me try.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe met with no better result. \u201cIt\u2019s like trying to cut an anvil!\u201d Hugh gasped, rubbing his right hand in his left.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cPerhaps&#8230;\u201d Father Godfrey fished a small vial out his pocket, recited a prayer, and dribbled holy water over the black shell.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey waited. Margaret reached down and nudged it with one knuckle. \u201cI feel no movement.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrances hauled herself to her feet and touched it with the toe of her shoe. It immediately began to twitch, rocking back and forth within the basket.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt seems to respond only to you.\u201d Hugh said quietly, eyeing Frances. Nobody replied.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy the time full night had descended, they had determined that neither blades, nor fire, nor the touch of a crucifix could kill what had emerged from Essie\u2019s womb. Frances\u2019 back ached from sitting so long, and she shuffled back inside the cottage to check on Essie again. The girl still slept; Frances had given her enough tincture of opium to ensure that she would not wake until morning. She had no signs of fever or infection; Frances wondered what illnesses could arise from birthing such a thing, and if she would be able to help if Essie showed symptoms.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBack outside, the steward and the priest argued about what to do with the thing overnight. \u201cIt cannot come into the church!\u201d Father Godfrey protested.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell, it cannot be left here. And it certainly will not be taken to the manor,\u201d Hugh objected.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe should have the bishop\u2019s counsel,\u201d Father Godfrey fretted.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe steward sighed. \u201cA message will not reach him for two days.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFinally, they agreed that it would be locked in a chest and buried until they received instructions from the bishop. Father Godfrey set off to the church to fetch a chest while Joseph and the steward stood guard. \u201cWe\u2019ll be on home, then,\u201d Frances announced, climbing to her feet with a groan. Hugh looked like he wanted to object but held his tongue.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMargaret laid a hand on Joseph\u2019s shoulder. \u201cWe\u2019ll be back early to tend to Essie.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe nodded, defeated stare fixed on the egg.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMargaret and Frances said nothing on the walk back to their hut. Once inside, Frances settled in front of the fire with a long sigh. The hut was small but well-built, with bundles of dried herbs hanging from its low ceiling. It smelled of rosemary, onions, and the rabbit stew they had left simmering in the hearth when they left. Margaret lifted the lid of the stewpot and stirred its contents with a ladle. \u201cPerhaps it is not wise for you to anger the steward so,\u201d she murmured without looking at Frances.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHm. I could get on my old knees and kiss that bastard\u2019s boots, and he\u2019d still think me a witch.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMargaret said nothing until they finished their meal. \u201cHe was right about something. It responds only to you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAye,\u201d Frances said quietly, adding a stick of wood to the dying embers of the hearth.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cCould it be,\u201d Margaret began slowly, \u201cthat it is not Essie who is the target of malice, but you? How better to strike against a midwife?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrances said nothing. Half of her hoped that Margaret\u2019s wits failed for once and led her to the wrong conclusion. The other half wanted to tell her.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMargaret continued. \u201cBut there is no one in this village who you have angered, besides the steward, and I doubt that such a boorish fool would have the knowledge for magic. And no one could find fault with your midwifery; everyone knows that many children and mothers would die without your skills.\u201d Her sharp features radiated intensity. \u201cSo the question is, who would benefit from stillbirths and women dying in labor?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrances gazed into the hearth. She could feel Margaret watching her. \u201cIt\u2019s not all skill,\u201d she said at last. \u201cA lot of it is, mind. I learned my trade well, from one who knew it well. But there\u2019s more to it. These hands&#8230;\u201d She smiled bitterly and gazed down at her fingers, gnarled and twisted as the roots of a tree. \u201cThese old hands, they can conquer demons.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThe first time was me fourth birth. I remember it well&#8230;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI was still young then, still apprenticed to Old Hannah. I knew much already, all of the herbs and elixirs, knew when it was proper to use feverfew and ground willow bark. I could see when there be twins and know the place of the unborn babe in a mother\u2019s belly. But I had not yet delivered a baby on me own, and the thought of managing without Old Hannah scared the life out of me.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThis time was a hard labor of a woman who had birthed five times before, with only one baby living. Her pains lasted through the night and into the morning. By the time she was ready, she was almost too spent to push, wouldn\u2019t until Old Hannah gave her a good talking to.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI myself hadn\u2019t slept. Bone-tired, I was. I didn\u2019t even know the baby was coming out until Old Hannah gave me a slap and told me to pay attention.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt was without breath when it came out into Hannah\u2019s hands. But I could see it had no cord around its neck, knew it had moved only hours before. Knew it should live. Old Hannah tried to bring it back, flipped it over onto its tum and gave it a smack on its back, but it still didn\u2019t breath.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen Old Hannah turned the little body over on its back, that\u2019s when I sees it. At first I thought it was a caul, but a caul wouldn\u2019t be black. It was something alive, something black fixed on the baby\u2019s face, like a little patch of black fog. There were no eyes or arms that I could see, just a wee mouth, and it had it around the baby\u2019s.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI was scared out of me wits, I don\u2019t mind telling you. I screamed like a fool and backed away, but Old Hannah didn\u2019t even see it. She just yelled at me to bring the bag, stop being such a ninny.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI knew why she wanted the bag. She\u2019d given up on the poor thing, needed the holy water to say the sacraments since there was no priest. Well, I wasn\u2019t having that. I didn\u2019t even think about what I was doing, I just stepped over and ripped that evil thing from the baby\u2019s face. It fought me fierce, it did, tried to stay stuck to his little mouth, but I got the best of it. The moment I got it off the baby, it just broke apart, turned into soot and dropped all over the floor.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u2018What are you doing?\u2019 Old Hannah asks me, spitting mad. I ignores her, for once, and touched the baby\u2019s chest. Didn\u2019t know why, just that I had to. I felt something, something moving between me and it, and then its eyes opened and it started to cry.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOld Hannah saw it happen. She looked at me like I was the Holy Virgin her own self. But we never talked of it, not once until the day she died. I\u2019m no witch, you see. There\u2019s no spells or deals with the Devil. But when a child is born dead, I can bring it back. And when it is born with one of those demons&#8230;\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou destroy them.\u201d Margaret\u2019s eyes were wide. She was silent for a moment. Then: \u201cThis is not a skill that can be taught?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrances covered the girl\u2019s hand with her own. \u201cNo, child. I don\u2019t even understand how I do it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMargaret took a deep, shaking breath. \u201cAnd when you are gone and I am village midwife, children will start to die again.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes. Not many. Ye\u2019re a good midwife, Margaret, better than I ever was. Better than Old Hannah, even. But there\u2019ll be some with demons, or ones who are beyond teas and medicines.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd I\u2019ll be powerless to save them.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrances was silent for a time. At last, \u201cYe\u2019ll save more than ye lose, girl. That\u2019s what you must remember.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe waited while Margaret cried in silence, just a steady drizzle of tears trailing down her stony face. When the girl was finished, she let out one heavy sigh, wiped her cheeks, and began tidying up after their supper. \u201cYou believe the thing Essie birthed has something to do with the demons you\u2019ve thwarted?\u201d she asked, scrubbing one of the bowls.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDon\u2019t see any way around it. It don\u2019t look like one of em, but it has the same feel.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut this one survives your touch.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAye. They found a way to send something I can\u2019t kill. I think it\u2019s the shell keeps it safe.\u201d Frances stood and shuffled over to her pallet. \u201cI\u2019ll sleep on the matter. Tomorrow we\u2019ll decide on what\u2019s to be done.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrances woke before first light. At first she thought it was the throbbing ache in her joints that had woken her, as happened most days now. But her heart pounded and there was the tang of fear in her mouth; she made herself still and listened for what had broken her sleep.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere. Something rustled outside the door. Frances rose as quietly as she could, slipping past Margaret\u2019s pallet. She found their one carving knife and gripped it in her trembling fingers. Pausing with her hand on the latch, she listened for what lay beyond the door. All was quiet.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBefore she could lose her nerve, Frances lifted the latch and flung open the door, knife ready.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe egg lay on the ground outside the hut. As Frances took a cautious step toward it, it began to rock back and forth. Even while standing several feet away, she could hear the sounds emanating from it. These sounds weren\u2019t weak clicks and stirrings, as before; now it was a hard, steady series of taps, a chisel on stone.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cFrances?\u201d Margaret\u2019s sleepy voice drifted out from the hut.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAll\u2019s well, Margaret. Stay inside.\u201d Frances tore her gaze away from the thing, fixed her eyes on the smear of heather grey where the sun would soon spill over the horizon. She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and held her arms closer to her body in an effort to ward off the morning chill. Winter was coming on fast, she knew, but at that moment she realized that she would never see another snow. That\u2019s something, at least, the old woman thought with a grim smile.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMargaret appeared in the doorway. \u201cHow&#8230;\u201d she breathed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cImpatient little thing, isn\u2019t it?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cShould we&#8211;\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo.\u201d Frances cut her off. \u201cBreakfast first. We\u2019ll deal with this thing after we\u2019ve eaten.\u201d As she shuffled back to the hut, Frances aimed a solid kick at the egg, sending it rolling across the garden.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAs instructed, Margaret prepared a hearty breakfast, far larger than their usual meals. Bread with honey, cheese, bacon. Frances ate slowly but finished everything in front of her. Margaret merely picked at her food.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThe steward will find the box unearthed and empty. Do you think he will think to look here?\u201d she asked at last.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrances shrugged.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBefore, we could deny that it was anything to do with you,\u201d Margaret pressed. \u201cBut since it has come here&#8230; What if Father Godfrey changes his mind, begins to think you a witch?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrances let out a laugh. \u201cGodfrey\u2019ll never turn on me. He knows I know too much.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMargaret raised a quizzical eyebrow. Frances leaned close and lowered her voice to a dramatic whisper. \u201cNext time you see young ones playing in the village, see if you can spot the one who has his eyes.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMargaret\u2019s mouth dropped open, but she said nothing.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrances continued. \u201cThat bloody Hugh, on the other hand&#8230;\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe tapping outside grew louder. Margaret rose and peeked outside, opening the door only a crack. \u201cFrances,\u201d she said, voice tense.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nPulling the door all the way open, Frances squatted down to examine the egg. There was a tiny hole, scarcely bigger than a pinprick. Something sharp and white emerged from within, chipping and scraping until another tiny piece fell away.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019d be the egg tooth,\u201d Frances murmured.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe stood. \u201cMargaret, Essie\u2019ll need checking. Go to her and make sure there\u2019s no fever.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019ll not be leaving you alone with this!\u201d Margaret protested.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou\u2019ll do as you\u2019re told, girl.\u201d Frances said the words sharply, though it pained her to be harsh with the girl.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMargaret bit her lip and slowly started gathering her supplies. Frances watched her in silence for a moment. \u201cIt\u2019s Widow Cavendish. The one what had a child by Godfrey. He had me convince her to remain silent, but she\u2019d speak if the story needed telling. And Master Hugh bedded the lord\u2019s daughter. She came to me and I gave her what she needed to kill it in the womb. But you must speak of that only if Hugh makes an accusation, only if it means your life.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMargaret slipped the bag over her shoulder. \u201cWhy are you telling me this?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAll my secrets are yours now.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat will you do?\u201d she asked quietly.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrances crossed the room and embraced the girl. \u201cOnly what must be done.\u201d She patted Margaret\u2019s cheek. \u201cDon\u2019t you worry. This old woman\u2019s got a trick or two yet.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTears welled up in Margaret\u2019s eyes. \u201cFrances, please&#8230;\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGo now. Off with you.\u201d She waved a hand at the door.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMargaret hesitated, opened and closed her mouth. Finally, taking a deep breath, she walked out of the hut and started on the path to the village. Frances waited until the girl disappeared over the hillside before gathering her things.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy the time Frances approached her destination, her lungs burned and her clothes were damp with sweat. \u201cRight pain in the arse, you are,\u201d she puffed, dropping the basket in the grass. \u201cMaking me walk all this way.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe settled on the ground to catch her breath. Below her stretched the rocky valley north of the village. Just one or two paces from where she sat, the ground dropped away into a crumbling granite cliff face. Peering down, Frances caught sight of the stream running along the valley floor. She remembered walking there, once, when she was young. It had been a long, difficult journey to the bottom of the valley, but there had been sun and cool water and a boy she might have wed had things gone just a bit differently. Smiling, Frances let herself linger on that memory.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe sound of the thing in the basket broke her out of her reverie. There was a crack as a large piece of shell gave way, revealing something darker moving inside. A black, jointed limb reached out, grasping, but it could not yet escape.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cFive hundred and fourteen,\u201d Frances said. \u201cThat\u2019s how many babies I\u2019ve helped to be born. And those ones grew up and had babies themselves. There\u2019s little ones today whose mothers and grandmothers I\u2019ve looked after. Never had none of my own, but I\u2019ve still brought more life into this world than you can imagine.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere came a snarl from the basket, egg rocking back and forth as another piece of shell fell away.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd that,\u201d Frances continued, \u201cis something I won\u2019t let anyone undo. I don\u2019t know where ye\u2019re from, but I know you was sent for me, and that must mean you can kill.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut ye know what else?\u201d She smiled. \u201cAn egg keeps a chick safe. Without it, the poor thing\u2019s helpless. If ye had to hide in such a strong shell, it must mean you can be hurt.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOne side of the egg crumbled. Another limb stretched out, dragging a leathery wing along with it. Frances rose to her feet.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWith one last, shuddering spasm, the shell broke apart. A dark, spindly shape launched itself out of the basket, speeding toward Frances. She caught sight of the wings, and teeth, and legs, too many and too long. Then it was upon her, serrated fangs sinking into the flesh at her throat. Run, her body screamed, fight! But she forced herself to take hold of its wings, squeezing them tight in her fists. A bone under the stretched skin cracked beneath her fingers, and the thing tried to push away, snapping its teeth and shredding the skin of her chest with its claws. Frances felt liquid warmth flowing from her neck down to the ground, knew the pain was soon to follow.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThese old hands, they can conquer demons,\u201d she whispered, and, holding the creature to her breast like a child, she stepped off the edge.<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"stardust\"><\/a><H1 LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\"><br \/>\n<FONT FACE=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><FONT SIZE=6>We Are Stardust<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy J. M. Evenson<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<strong>I.<\/strong>\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIf Lily could&#8217;ve strangled Susannah, she would&#8217;ve. Unfortunately people were watching.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;You were looking at my boobs,&#8221; said Susannah. They were standing in the locker room. Three shorter girls circled Susannah like wolves. Susannah was naked apart from her lace panties, and she had Lily cornered.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I already told you, I wasn&#8217;t,&#8221; said Lily. Actually, she kind of was. They were ridiculously huge. Also, Susannah was standing right in front of Lily, so there was nowhere else to look.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Oh my God, why are you lying?&#8221; said Susannah. &#8220;It&#8217;s natural to be curious about the human body.&#8221; Susannah was both cunning and vain, a mixture that had become toxic when she hit puberty. Her weapon of choice was sarcasm. Susannah never, ever meant what she said. &#8220;I mean, it must be hard for you. Everybody knows you&#8217;re delayed.&#8221; Susannah let her voice linger on that last word as she looked at Lily&#8217;s training bra. It wasn&#8217;t even half filled.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA crowd grew as the four girls closed in around Lily.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;We&#8217;ve all been there,&#8221; said one of them.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Trust me,&#8221; said the other.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;If you have any questions, sweetie, just let us know, okay?&#8221; said the third.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrimson circles scalded Lily&#8217;s cheeks. &#8220;Leave me alone,&#8221; said Lily.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSusannah dug a finger in Lily&#8217;s underpants to look and let it snap back. &#8220;Holy shit, she&#8217;s smooth like a Barbie!&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSusannah was lying. But it didn&#8217;t matter. Everyone laughed. The sound of it ricocheted off the lockers.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThat&#8217;s when Lily punched Susannah. Hard.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSusannah reeled backward and the four girls crumpled into a pile of screams.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily grabbed her clothes from her locker and crammed her legs into her pants. It wasn&#8217;t like she was going to be able to explain why she&#8217;d punched Susannah to the principal, so there was no point in hanging around to see what kind of punishment they were going to dole out. Lily&#8217;s hair was still wet when she slung her backpack over her shoulder and left the school.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe weather outside was overcast and hot, no different than most winter days in her small Ohio town. Most of the kids took the magnet home to avoid the swelter, but Lily liked walking. After the Great Warming, January was pretty much the only time she could do it anymore. They&#8217;d already had to move north twice. If the heat continued to rise, they&#8217;d have to do it again. At least they were part of the lucky few who had the money to do it. As she turned down the avenue, Lily eyed the dark clouds gathering overhead, promising a sandstorm.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe worst thing about all of it was that Susannah was right. Lily was delayed. She was almost fifteen, but her body had hardly even started developing. There was something, though &#8212; she couldn&#8217;t tell what &#8212; that made Lily think things were just about to change. For three days she&#8217;d felt weird. Not nauseous, exactly; it was more like a heaviness had taken over her limbs, then worked its way inward, settling squarely between her hips.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily was still steaming about Susannah when she noticed sunlight echoing from the surfaces around her, illuminating the street with a piercing yellow. She paused to look up.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt had just been cloudy a second ago. Now the sky was perfectly blue. When she reached up to shield her eyes, she saw something stirring in the sunlight &#8212; it was a dust of some sort,  filtering down from the sky. Its descent was slow, but it fell straight down, pattering around her like a gentle rain. Her body seemed to cool as she watched it.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily opened her hand, trying to catch some of the dust so she could have a better look, but most of it slipped away. When she finally held still, it settled on her palm.  Each speck seemed to glow from the inside, shimmering and twinkling as if she&#8217;d caught a handful of stars. She reached out a finger to touch them. Constellations appeared, then whole galaxies &#8212; her own private cosmos.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThen she noticed: these stars were moving &#8212; squirming and expanding, a universe in motion. Suddenly they began to gather into small, worm-like shapes. They were still moving, only now they were a thousand glittering maggots fighting for space. Lily&#8217;s hand began to tingle, then burn. With a flash, the worm-like shapes burrowed into her skin and disappeared. Clouds instantly folded over the sky, and it was overcast again.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFor one minute, three minutes, maybe a hundred minutes, Lily stood motionless, trying to process what had just happened. For a second she even wondered if she&#8217;d imagined the whole thing. That&#8217;s when she felt it: the slow wet breaking between her thighs, the dam loose. A blood-stain bloomed in her jeans. Her first.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAfter that, whenever Lily got her period, she thought about the Day of Enlightenment. It was the day everything changed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<strong>II.<\/strong>\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily felt different.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt wasn&#8217;t anything wild or obvious. Mostly, she was just confused: she never had just one thought anymore; now, she always thought one thing and another thing at the same time. Sometimes the tug-of-war became so violent it felt like the ideas were somersaulting inside of her. She spent the better part of a year combing the information networks looking for guidance on her changing body. Almost all of the articles she found focused on what it meant to turn into a Duo. The only problem was that Lily couldn&#8217;t be sure which part of her transformation had to do with the Day of Enlightenment and which part had to do with sprouting boobs.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMore distressing, every decision Lily made was now subject to a drawn-out internal debate. Should she eat soy cheese? She could turn that into a half-day argument. There were questions of nutrition and personal need, certainly. Did she require the extra calories? Would that extra food she consumed harm the environment? Was it fair for some people to have access to this particular delicacy, when others did not? She could parse anything for philosophical dispute.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThat was the real problem: Lily was now thoroughly, undeniably rational. Her family could tell. Everyone could.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<strong>III.<\/strong>\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOf course, her mother and brother were proud of their pure-blood status. They refused to use the term &#8220;Duos,&#8221; instead calling them &#8220;Infected&#8221; or &#8220;Compromised.&#8221; If you were infected, at least in the human-only section of the city where Lily and her family lived, it meant ostracism. Lily had to be careful, especially around her brother, Wes.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I&#8217;m leaving,&#8221; said Wes. He bit off a piece of toast and watched Lily carefully as if he were evaluating her reaction.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily pushed her cereal around in her oat milk. She didn&#8217;t have to ask where he was going. She already knew. She flipped the page on her book and continued reading.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Want to come with me?&#8221; said Wes.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;You know I don&#8217;t,&#8221; said Lily.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I just thought maybe you&#8217;d come to your fucking senses,&#8221; he said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Don&#8217;t start,&#8221; she said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Or what? You&#8217;ll lecture me again about how fucked up humans are?&#8221; he said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily rolled her eyes at him. That was exactly what she would do, if he&#8217;d listen for more than half a second. But he&#8217;d already made up his mind: he suspected that Lily had become a Duo, and he spent the better part of every day trying to get her to admit it.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Quit reading for a second.&#8221; Wes snatched the book from Lily and held it over his head.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily eyed him. He was trying to get a rise out of her, to see how she&#8217;d respond. It was a test.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe made a grab for the book.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;What is this, anyway?&#8221; He scanned the cover. &#8220;&#8216;An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation&#8217;? What the fuck is wrong with you?&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I like it,&#8221; said Lily.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWes stared at her hard. Lily could feel her pulse tugging at her collar. He knew. He had to.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe leaned forward and growled. &#8220;The world is not a better place with them here, Lily. They&#8217;ll turn on us, I promise.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere were a few ways Lily could go. She could pretend to agree with him, but he&#8217;d know she was lying. She could point out the specific benefits of the Duo government, but sensible responses tended to aggravate him and confirm his worst suspicions about her. Or she could do something irrational to prove she was still human.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe tossed a piece of wet cereal at Wes. It hit him square between the eyes.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWes dropped the book and flung an arm in her direction. Lily swerved before it connected. He lunged for her and caught her by the sleeve. Just before he put her in a half-nelson she let out a shout.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;He&#8217;s joining the rebellion, Mom,&#8221; she screeched.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;What?&#8221; said Sara. Their mother called out from the kitchen. She was in there boiling a pot of English breakfast tea.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;You&#8217;re such a dick. I&#8217;ll bet you&#8217;re one of them,&#8221; Wes hissed in her ear.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Maybe I am. Want to report me to your little buddies?&#8221; Lily spat back.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSara appeared in the doorway. She stood perfectly still, her eyes fixed on Wes. &#8220;You&#8217;re joining?&#8221; she said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWes was her mother&#8217;s favorite. They were like two heads of the same shark. Whenever they started talking, Lily could hear their circles of approval growing smaller and smaller, like a ripple moving inward: they approved of only pure-bloods, but really only pure-bloods with old-fashioned values, and actually only the two of them. Everyone else was held in self-righteous disregard.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWes held up his arms like he was trying to soften the blow. &#8220;Mom. I know what you&#8217;re going to say,&#8221; he said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSara wound her arms around him. &#8220;You&#8217;re my boy.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA smile grew on Sara&#8217;s face. A proud smile.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWes held his stare on Lily.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<strong>IV.<\/strong>\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe teacher handed Lily a white envelope. Lily&#8217;s heart knocked like it was trying to get out.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen Lily opened the letter, she was actually relieved. The letter confirmed what she suspected: she was a Duo. Not only that, she&#8217;d tested abnormally high on the rationality scale. She&#8217;d spent her whole life feeling like the odd man out in her family, and here was the proof: she was different. Her score meant she was a prodigy, which meant she was special.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe teacher bent over Lily&#8217;s desk, her lips pinched into a disapproving frown. &#8220;Congratulations, Lily,&#8221; she said. Her voice was louder than it needed to be. &#8220;I&#8217;m sure we all wish you a safe journey to the Government Center.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere was a sudden silence as everyone in the classroom turned to look at Lily. Their eyes burrowed into her like fish hooks.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt was like a dream &#8212; the one where she was naked in school on exam day without her homework and the semi-hot guy she&#8217;d had a crush on since kindergarten was laughing at her.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily put on her backpack and got up to leave the classroom. Their eyes held fast, casting after her as she left, lining up in the hallway silently to watch her go. She walked slowly, then quickly, and darted out the school doors.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe ran most of the way home. By the time she got home, she could feel the sweat dripping down her spine.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe banged through the door and started up the stairs to her bedroom.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Lily,&#8221; a voice called out.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily stopped and turned. Her mother, Sara, appeared in the doorframe. She was holding a highball. Wes slid out from behind her. His face was tight and red.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;The school called,&#8221; said Sara.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily blinked back tears.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe knew it was irrational to wish she could&#8217;ve talked to her mother about becoming a Duo. It was even more irrational to wish she could&#8217;ve won her mother&#8217;s approval. Lily imagined her mother&#8217;s eyes, gentled with devotion, bent on Lily. Her girl, she&#8217;d say. She&#8217;d hold her in a warm embrace, sway back and forth. But Lily had to be honest with herself. There was never really a chance she would&#8217;ve won her mother&#8217;s approval, even if she were a pure-blood.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt was one thing to know she wasn&#8217;t close with her mother. It was another to know they would never be close.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I fucking knew it,&#8221; hissed Wes.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I think we all did,&#8221; said Sara.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe two-headed shark. Of course they felt the same way. Of course.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily nodded. &#8220;I&#8217;ll go upstairs and pack.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;That&#8217;s probably wise.&#8221; Her mother swished her ice and left for a refill.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily went to her room and put a few things together, an extra set of clothes and a toothbrush, then came downstairs and left through the front door.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere was no point in turning around to wave goodbye. She already knew no one was standing at the window.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<strong>V.<\/strong>\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAlejandro was the most beautiful human being Lily had ever seen. Well, partly human.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe had dark hair that fell forward in loose curls. Whenever he got nervous, he pushed his hair behind his ears, revealing dark eyes ringed in lashes that curled upward at the outer corners like a cat&#8217;s. He spoke softly and tucked his chin, which, together with his large eyes, made him seem shy and vulnerable.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe lived three doors down in the government center dorms. The kitchen staff was ridiculously experimental in their cooking, which was unpleasant for a picky eater like Lily, but she managed to squirrel away a little of the good stuff whenever it came around. She spent most of her time in the food line watching Alejandro absent-mindedly thumb his bottom lip. Her eyes would inch downward to the dimples of his hips and the tuft of hair sprouting above the zipper of his low-slung jeans. Every time he caught her eyes, she felt a thunderclap of terror and her skin heated to pink.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily had only kissed one boy before the Day of Enlightenment. He was a nice guy, but he had super parched lips and refused to wear chapstick. When he leaned in for the kiss, he grabbed the sides of her head to keep it still. He kept every muscle in his face tight, and he didn&#8217;t even try to slip her some tongue. The whole thing was rough and dry, like making out with a cantaloupe rind.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut Alejandro was a magical mix of hard and soft. His arms, for instance, were knotted with muscles, and yet they were covered by a downy hair so fine it floated like a spider web. Everything about him was like that: just totally and completely gorgeous. It took Lily six months to work up the courage not to look away when he caught her eyes, but one night, when the kitchen was serving some particularly repulsive fare that involved roasted ants, she invited Alejandro up to her room for cheese and nut-bread from her secret stash.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe conversation started with tales of who they&#8217;d left behind and the people they&#8217;d been in the days before everything changed. Lily did her best to pretend she&#8217;d kissed a bunch of boys and was not in any way an extreme virgin, but she was pretty sure he figured out the truth when she couldn&#8217;t remember any of her so-called boyfriend&#8217;s names. They talked for hours, until talk gave way to uncomfortable pauses and sweaty palms.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I think we both know what&#8217;s going to happen,&#8221; he said, leaning forward.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAlejandro put his hands on her face and drew her close. She could see the shadow of stubble across his jaw, the whiskers slightly raised over a single mole at the crook of his mouth, the soft fullness of his lips that pulled into a natural frown. Lily was suddenly dizzy and hot. He brought his lips to hers as they sank to the floor, fingers clutching at collars and hair, the room tilting, their hot breath interlaced in a kiss. They tugged at their clothes until they were moving as one. A burst of sweetness shook Lily&#8217;s body, then calmed to silence.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe silence chilled to awkwardness. Alejandro rolled away and put himself back together again. There were a few words about something he had to do, about seeing her tomorrow, then more silence.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe next day, she saw him in the courtyard. He sat down next to her on her reading blanket and took her hand in his.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I really like you. You know that,&#8221; he said. &#8220;But everything in my life is complicated right now. It&#8217;s not rational to get involved with so much going on. I&#8217;ve got responsibilities here at the center. I have an obligation to keep my head clear.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe sounded like a stupid B movie.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I mean, maybe that doesn&#8217;t make sense to you. Maybe I&#8217;m further along in the hybridization process than you are. You know? I understand the urge to copulate. Obviously, I do. I&#8217;m still partly human. But we&#8217;re also so much more than that now. We don&#8217;t have to be tied down to hormones or whatever.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8216;Tied down&#8217;? She&#8217;d never really thought of herself as a rope before, but she did want to strangle him, a fat noose around his neck, so maybe there was something to it.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I don&#8217;t want you to think it&#8217;s about you. It really isn&#8217;t. We&#8217;re only seventeen. Maybe in a few years, when we&#8217;re both ready to mate and reproduce, we can discuss this again.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe got up and left.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily leaned back on her blanket and listened to her heart bang against the bars of her ribcage, the hollow sound of order.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<strong>VI.<\/strong>\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSomething had to be done about the rebels. Something drastic.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen the rebels bombed the magnet stations in New York and Boston, Lily had been called to sit on the daily meetings at headquarters. They&#8217;d picked her because it turned out, after a great deal more testing, that Lily had a gift for tactical strategy. So they made her an official member of the Countermeasures Committee. Their job was to end the conflict.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nRochelle sat at the head of the table. She wore a close-cropped afro and a unitard with a flowing red scarf. Next to her was her second-in-line, Feng. He was thin and gray-haired, with the sinewy muscles of a long-distance runner. At the other end of the table was Alejandro. By some unbelievable stroke of bad luck, he&#8217;d been assigned to the same committee as Lily.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily snuck a glance at him. She used to spend every meeting watching his every move, but in the last few weeks she&#8217;d felt her interest in him fading. In fact, she hardly cared about him at all. Maybe it was a sign she was moving along in the hybridization process. Maybe not. There was no way to know what part of her thoughts and emotions were human and what part Duo anymore. Either way, she was glad to be rid of the dull ache that had taken up residence in her chest after he&#8217;d said he wasn&#8217;t interested.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Lily? Are you listening?&#8221; said Feng.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily blinked. She hadn&#8217;t noticed the meeting had started. &#8220;Oh, yes,&#8221; she said. &#8220;I&#8217;m sorry, what was the question?&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nRochelle smiled sweetly at Lily. Rochelle always smiled sweetly no matter what anyone said, which meant you could never tell when she was angry. &#8220;We were talking about infrastructure.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFeng leaned forward. &#8220;Every time we rebuild, we&#8217;re diverting resources that could help the rest of us survive. It&#8217;s not a sustainable solution.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;No one is suggesting we let it continue,&#8221; said Rochelle. &#8220;What happened with the Manitoba Resolution?&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I tried to make sure they understood they&#8217;d have complete control of the territory, but they were so busy making threats, I don&#8217;t think they heard much of what I said,&#8221; said Feng.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;There&#8217;s got to be a way to get them back to the negotiating table,&#8221; said Alejandro.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily watched Alejandro&#8217;s mouth as he spoke. When she first started going to the committee meetings, she&#8217;d spent half her time imagining what it would feel like to run her tongue along the inside of his lip. Now she felt practically nothing.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;We&#8217;re going in circles here. In the meanwhile, they&#8217;ve got an army amassing thirty miles away,&#8221; said Feng. &#8220;They don&#8217;t want peace. They want to kill every Duo on the planet. They actually told us that. These people are completely devoid of reason.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA niggling thought entered Lily&#8217;s mind. She hadn&#8217;t heard from Wes since the day she left the house. She wondered if he&#8217;d been involved with rebel bombings. She pushed the idea away, and it slithered into the back of her mind like an earthworm.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I agree with Feng,&#8221; said Lily. &#8220;We have to stop playing the pacifists.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe faces at the table turned toward her.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTalking in front of groups used to mortify her. Every time she had to get up and her face would heat up to a shade of purple. But there was no rash of color in her cheeks now. She wasn&#8217;t nervous at all.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;What are you suggesting? We attack the rebels?&#8221; Alejandro snorted. &#8220;That&#8217;s against everything the Enlightenment stands for.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;How do you know? It&#8217;s not like we got a list of instructions. Maybe we&#8217;re supposed to be reasonable enough to defend ourselves,&#8221; said Lily.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Self-defense is not the same as an attack,&#8221; said Alejandro. His voice had a little whine to it.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily ignored him. &#8220;The rebels believe we won&#8217;t fight back. So, we prepare. Then, when the time is right, we provoke them.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;&#8216;Prepare&#8217;? You mean set a trap?&#8221; said Feng.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;It&#8217;s not entrapment. The rebels already know we outnumber them,&#8221; said Lily. &#8220;We put a team together and kidnap their leader. We bring him back here. The rational response would be for the rebels to sacrifice their leader for the greater good, but they won&#8217;t respond rationally. They&#8217;ll attack, and they&#8217;ll die. Once the armed faction is gone, we can move the women, children, and elderly to Manitoba. Pure-blood numbers will dwindle and the situation will resolve itself within a generation.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShock hung in the air for a moment.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nRochelle&#8217;s glance flicked from face to face, as if she were taking a visual poll.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAlejandro gaped at Lily. &#8220;You&#8217;re talking about genocide. That&#8217;s the definition of unethical.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily turned her eyes to him. &#8220;The eradication of the rebel population would benefit the planet and its remaining inhabitants. How is that not an ethical aim?&#8221; The words fell from her mouth like stones.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nRochelle smiled sweetly. &#8220;I knew there was a reason we chose you.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<strong>VII.<\/strong>\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA door rattled behind Lily.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt had taken some time, but the Duo government had eventually been able to kidnap Stone, the rebel leader. The government center hadn&#8217;t been built to house a jail of any sort, since they were generally unnecessary these days, but they&#8217;d made do with a few bars on the windows and a series of high-powered locks. More difficult had been the acquisition and placement of automated weaponry on the perimeters of the government center. But it had been done. Lily had seen to it.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe door rattled again.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Hello? I&#8217;d like some food in here. Unless you&#8217;re planning to starve me.&#8221; It was Stone&#8217;s voice. Lily had only really met him once, but she already knew she didn&#8217;t like him. He had a buzz cut and the body of a boxer. If you looked at him from the neck down, he seemed like an average beef cake. It was just his smirk that gave away his intelligence.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily gathered everything she needed on a tray. She had his lunch on one side. On the other, she had a video device. They needed proof that Stone was still alive if they were going to provoke the rebels into attacking the government center to save him.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily clicked open the locks and entered the room. It was bare apart from a toilet, a bed, and table. She put the tray down as Stone took a seat. He eyed the video device.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;What&#8217;s that for?&#8221; he asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I have to get a video of you to send to your friends.&#8221; Lily sat across from him and began assembling the device. Part of it required a strap across his chest to take his vitals, so they could prove to the rebels that Stone was healthy and unharmed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;They&#8217;ll come for me,&#8221; he said. He took a bite of his sandwich. &#8220;See, we humans have this thing where we care about each other. It&#8217;s called loyalty.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Yes, I know,&#8221; said Lily. In fact, her plan depended on it. &#8220;Can you remove your shirt?&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;You first.&#8221; He let out a laugh. &#8220;I&#8217;m not supposed to make jokes like that in front of ladies, right? Sorry, you probably want to be called a &#8216;woman.'&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nActually, Lily wasn&#8217;t used to people calling her a &#8220;woman.&#8221; It was only recently that she stopped thinking about herself as a &#8220;girl.&#8221; But now that her hips had widened and she could finally fill out her bra, she&#8217;d stopped looking so young.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily rolled her eyes at Stone. &#8220;Just take it off.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Fine.&#8221; He took off his shirt. The smell of testosterone and sweat wafted at Lily. She shuddered with a jolt of memory. It reminded her of Alejandro, only it was more musky. There was something so deep about the smell, like the rumble in a man&#8217;s throat.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nStone watched her closely. Her eyes were tracing the outline of his chest.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;You all right over there?&#8221; he said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily blinked, suddenly hot.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Oh, my. Is that a blush? I don&#8217;t think I&#8217;ve ever seen a Duo blush before.&#8221; His smirk widened to a grin.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily tried to shake it off. She hadn&#8217;t felt like that in forever. Or felt anything, really.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nStone kept his eyes on her. &#8220;You&#8217;re not like the rest of them, are you? I can tell.&#8221; He leaned forward. &#8220;Whatever they&#8217;re telling you to do, you don&#8217;t have to do it.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Nobody&#8217;s telling me to do anything,&#8221; said Lily.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe smiled at her. He was so close Lily could feel his warm breath. &#8220;I know there&#8217;s a plan. What is it?&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe blush drained from Lily&#8217;s face. &#8220;You really think I&#8217;m stupid enough to tell you?&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis voice was suddenly harsh. &#8220;Your brother Wes is out there with my men. He&#8217;s going to be with them when they attack.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nStone was trying to put this on her &#8212; make it her fault. &#8220;If you&#8217;d just left us alone, neither one of us would be here.&#8221; She stood up, holding the vitals tracker.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Come on,&#8221; he said. &#8220;They were always going to turn on us. You know it, and I know it.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily wrapped her arms around his chest and snapped the strap into place. &#8220;You&#8217;re wrong. Every single one of our government initiatives worked. That&#8217;s called progress,&#8221; she said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Are you really trying to tell me I should chill out because the aliens are liberals?&#8221; he said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;There&#8217;s no such thing as liberals or conservatives. That&#8217;s the whole point. It&#8217;s a unified government,&#8221; she said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;They&#8217;re parasites,&#8221; he said. &#8220;You don&#8217;t get it. All living things battle for dominance. It&#8217;s a dog-eat-dog universe.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Do you know what parasites do? They keep their hosts alive. They take care of their environment,&#8221; said Lily.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I just figured something out. You want to get rid of people like me because we see through your bullshit.&#8221; Stone sat forward. &#8220;Wake up. The aliens don&#8217;t want to &#8216;enlighten&#8217; you. Their goal is to get rid of the humans they can&#8217;t infect. That, sweetheart, is called an alien invasion.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily&#8217;s eyes moved back and forth, parsing what he&#8217;d said. As she moved through her internal arguments, she could feel her blood cooling. &#8220;We were already in the middle of the sixth extinction when they came down. We needed a global government to stop the Great Warming. The Duos have done that. The simple fact is humanity was going to end either way. At least this way there&#8217;s something of us left here.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;So that&#8217;s it?&#8221; he said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;No.&#8221; She flipped on the video device and pointed it at him. &#8220;Please look into the camera and state your name.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<strong>VIII.<\/strong>\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThousands of guns were pointed in Lily&#8217;s direction.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe stood in a bullet-proof glass room. Below was a town square, and beyond was the government center&#8217;s fence. Sunlight bounced off the white granite tiles of the square. It was a clear day, so she could practically see the faces of the rebels gathered beyond the open gate.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily held binoculars up to her face and studied their expressions. Each one seemed so tense, so frightened. Most of them didn&#8217;t even look like real soldiers. More like a rag-tag group of men dressed up in uncomfortable costumes, weighted down with the tools of their anger. Was this really the fate of humans? She wondered if Wes were down there among them.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMaybe it wasn&#8217;t fair. Maybe what they were doing was entrapment. No, Lily reminded herself. They had chosen their own fate. It was a pity, but there was nothing that could be done about it. The conflict had to end. There was no other way.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nRebel eyes shifted toward the government center in unison, like a flock of birds. They rushed forward through the gate into the town square with an snarling howl, shooting their guns. Lily turned away as the center&#8217;s automated weapons system clicked on. The last thing she heard was the scream of thousands.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<strong>IX.<\/strong>\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily was alone in her room.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nDue to the success of the operation, the Countermeasures Committee had been disbanded. The government had moved her to a better room, one with a view of the town square, as a reward. The granite tiles had a pinkish hue now, but they still gleamed in the sunlight. She heard some time later that Stone had attacked a guard and grabbed his gun. He took out five Duos before he bought it.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLily opened the refrigerator and took out a piece of soy cheese. Did she require the extra calories? Would that extra food she consumed harm the environment? She sat down on her sofa, ready for the philosophical dispute.<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"ashes\"><\/a><H1 LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\"><br \/>\n<FONT FACE=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><FONT SIZE=6>Lighting Fire To Ashes<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy Nathan Wunner<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<strong>1: <\/strong>\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAlan Shepard\u2019s teeth were falling out for the third time this week.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTo Jess\u2019s left, her trainee, Steven, tried not to retch as they watched Shepard tear loose another piece of dangling gristle from his mouth and drop it into the bathroom sink.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAh, okay,\u201d Steven said, \u201cI\u2019m supposed to figure out what this means, right?\u201d He rubbed his chin with his fingers and stared up at the stained ceiling of the hotel room. In the meantime, another of Shepard\u2019s teeth bounced off the ceramic and circled the drain.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI have no idea what this means.\u201d Steven concluded. \u201cIt\u2019s just gross.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMr. Shepard recently lost a loved one,\u201d Jess said. \u201cHe\u2019s starting to realize that he\u2019s getting older, and his own death is drawing closer. Being forced to confront his own mortality, and trying to ignore it during the day, is making these concerns manifest in his subconscious mind.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou can tell all that just from watching someone\u2019s teeth falling out in a dream?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI can tell all that because I read it in his file. Just like you were supposed to.\u201d Jess frowned. \u201cWe\u2019re not here to figure out what the dream means. We have analysts for that. Our job is to just observe and record.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess had been observing the dreams of company employees for years. Part of their worker efficiency program&#8211;finding psychological issues in workers at an early stage increased productivity overall, and was also an indicator of which workers could be sent off to \u201cearly retirement\u201d when it came time for budget cuts.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe dreams were observed via an interface that translated brainwave patterns into 3D holographic images. Jess didn\u2019t know how the machine worked. It was built back before the world went to shit, by people now long since dead. She did know that the machine was intended to aid in the treatment of mental patients, but that all changed when the private sector bought out the technology and decided to monetize it to make a better return on their investment.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess liked her job, by and large. The gruesome sights, the nightmares&#8211;none of it really bothered her. Sometimes the sex dreams were awkward. But sifting through people\u2019s subconscious thoughts was easier than talking to them while they were awake. Her anti-social tendencies made her uniquely qualified to deal with the often disturbing imagery dwelling within the human mind. No matter what she saw, Jess never got too immersed. She always knew that it wasn\u2019t real. And she recognized the most important fact&#8211;that people had very little control over all the thoughts and fears bouncing around inside their heads.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIf anything, the truth was the exact opposite. All the fears, the neuroses, they controlled us.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMinutes passed, or they seemed to, and Mr. Shepard\u2019s sink was now overflowing with blood and saliva-slick teeth. No matter how many came loose and fell out of his jaw, more sprouted from his gums, shiny and wet, to take their place.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess put a finger to her earpiece. \u201cHave you got what you need yet?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAfter several moments, an analyst\u2019s voice answered back. \u201cWe\u2019ve got what we need. You\u2019re free to extract.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe can leave?\u201d Steven asked, looking pale. \u201cThank God.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMr. Shepard, the grimy hotel room, they all faded away in a flash, leaving Jess and Steven standing in an empty white room.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess dismissed Steven and made her way to the control room. Or, as the analysts mockingly referred to it, \u201cthe place where dreams are made\u201d.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe control room was a maze of monitors and cabinet sized computers made up of spinning reels and blinking lights. Jess was greeted by Dale, a thin, mousy looking man in a sweat stained white shirt. Dale was many things, but he wasn\u2019t annoying, and for that, Jess tolerated his company.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow\u2019s the trainee working out?\u201d Dale asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSteven?\u201d Jess asked. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t have the stomach for the work, and I don\u2019t have the time to babysit.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cShame.\u201d Dale shook his head. \u201cI know you could use the help. Have you seen how packed the schedule is for next week?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess wasn\u2019t listening. Her attention was on the setting sun, falling below the horizon line, being swallowed up by the ocean waves. Another day gone. In the past, cities were all lit up at night. Corporate towers glowed more fiercely than the brightest stars, neon signs cast waves of light out onto the streets. Now when night came the candle flames were snuffed, the lamps dimmed, and the whole world was gently swallowed up by the encroaching dark.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLong day, huh?\u201d Dale placed a hand on Jess\u2019s shoulder. She tried her hardest not to recoil from his touch. \u201cWhat\u2019s on your mind?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess sighed. \u201cJust thinking about how a place can change you. There was a time when I wouldn\u2019t go near a corporate city-state. I can\u2019t tell you how many business towers I\u2019ve set fire to. And now&#8230;\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess didn\u2019t finish her sentence.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIf that\u2019s true, how did you ever end up in a city like Eidum? And working for the Aeus family, no less?\u201d Dale said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cRebel organizations, so-called \u2018Eco-Terrorists.\u2019 For all their admirable qualities, they don\u2019t offer healthcare plans. I had to grow up sometime.\u201d Jess turned to walk away.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWait!\u201d Dale shouted after her. \u201cWhat about Alan Shepard? The guy you just observed?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess stopped walking but didn\u2019t turn back around to face Dale. \u201cDon\u2019t bother waking him,\u201d she said. \u201cUpper management made up their mind before today\u2019s observation session even started. We were just there to gather data to reinforce their decision. Existential crises aren\u2019t good for workplace morale. Someone will be along to flush him in the morning.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<strong>2:<\/strong>\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThese days, sleep was elusive. Other people\u2019s dreams bled into her own until she didn\u2019t know which thoughts were born from her own mind and which ones just clawed their way in and took root.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA friend had suggested meditation. Closing her eyes, slowing her breathing. Imagining a sunny sky, a green meadow, trying to conjure the feeling of wind on her face.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNone of that worked. But what put her right to sleep, at least for a little while, was imagining Eidum on fire, burning until the flames boiled away the water and left a smoldering mound of ash in the earth.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut like all dreams, these images slipped away with the morning light.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe morning sun sat high over the flooded city of Eidum. The water had risen again with the tide, and she could hear the waves crashing against the walls of her apartment building. The farmers were already out, navigating between the skyscrapers in their row boats, pulling fish from the nets and tending to the kelp gardens. Workers dressed in khakis and sport coats hopped down from their apartment windows or climbed down trellises to board the ferries to the corporate offices.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess stood in front of her bathroom mirror, shaving the short bristle of hair off of her scalp.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe looked tired, by her own estimation. And as she stared deeper into her reflection she noticed the dozens of crisscrossing lines surrounding her eyes, and nesting in the corners of her mouth.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cExistential crises aren\u2019t good for workplace morale,\u201d she reminded herself aloud.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe walked out to her patio and leaned over the railing, letting the sun&#8217;s rays shake loose the haze of sleep. Her mind went back to the conversation she\u2019d had with Dale the night before. In her time she\u2019d seen dozens of towns and cities, at least one bigger than Eidum, burn to the ground. And somewhere inside, she felt a sadness knowing that this city never could.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nStill, if she did have to live in a city, there were worse places than Eidum. She\u2019d never thought she\u2019d settle anywhere, but there was a tranquility about this place&#8211;the waves gently lapping at the concrete walls, the birds swooping low over the water and nesting in the eaves of long abandoned buildings.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNeura, Jess\u2019s personal data assistant, interrupted her contemplation and chimed in with her the schedule for the day. \u201c10 a.m. Observation of human resources manager Philip Finch. 11 a.m. Appointment cancelled. Urgent alert. All appointments cancelled. You are to report directly to the office of Saul Aeus\u201d.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAeus.\u201d Jess frowned. \u201cChrist.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<strong>3:<\/strong>\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNo one bothered to remember the history of the old nations, or of the fallen capitals, but everyone in Eidum knew the history of the Aeus family.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nDavid Aeus was the kind of eccentric who hoarded canned food and had bomb shelters and panic rooms built into all of his properties. When he got word of rising sea levels and global warming, he started building his properties with a watery future in mind. His masterpiece of construction, Aeus Tower, which sat at the heart of Eidum, was designed to withstand being fully submerged underwater. A plastic mesh composite made up the building\u2019s substance, and the glass, even on the outside elevators, was thicker than what they used on the deep sea oil drilling submarines. It was an impressive feat, if a bit wasteful. The ocean had only risen some 100 feet, leaving the rest of Aeus Tower still looming well above the water.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nDavid\u2019s descendant, Saul, was the result of almost a century of isolation and incestuous family inbreeding. Saul had always made Jess uncomfortable, even though their encounters had always been (thankfully) brief. There was an off-putting, artificial look to his face, present in his uneven eyes, a smile that was much too wide for his jawline. He looked like he\u2019d been carved and molded by a god that possessed no aptitude for making realistic faces or proportions.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess kept to the opposite side of the elevator as it descended below sea level. Outside the elevator window schools of fish, glistening in the morning sun, darted by in thick clouds.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen Saul spoke, it was with his back to Jess, still facing the windows. \u201cTell me,\u201d he said, \u201cyou\u2019re familiar with my deceased sister, Aurora, are you not?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cPretty much in name only. I was sorry to hear of her passing.\u201d Jess, equal parts nervous and impatient, crossed her arms over her chest and reclined against the wall. She waited for Saul to say something, to offer up information on why he\u2019d brought her here. But if he had anything else to add, he didn\u2019t seem to be in a hurry to do so.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe elevator came to a stop. \u201cWhat is all of this about?\u201d Jess asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe doors opened onto a white room, and in the center of the room was a woman, head shaved, suspended on an operating table, with dozens of wires protruding from her scalp and trailing off into a large computer sat in the corner. Even though she\u2019d only ever seen her on vid-screens, Jess recognized the woman\u2019s face. Aurora Aeus. Saul\u2019s dead sister. Pale as a grave worm, drained of color, blue lipped and motionless.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAcross the room from Aurora was another table, empty, but with an identical set of wires that hung suspended from another bank of computers.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSaul patiently stared at Jess, letting her mind fill with questions. Waiting for just the right moment to speak. \u201cMy sister, Aurora, never died. Not really.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIs she in a coma?\u201d Jess asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes. Drug induced. She has some brain function but not enough to compel herself to wake. We\u2019ve tried to keep her comfortable, but to be honest we\u2019d given up on her. Until this.\u201d From his sleeve Saul produced a syringe full of a soft blue liquid. \u201cWe\u2019ve been working on various cell restoration projects for years, and we\u2019ve finally hit upon a working formula. We\u2019ve tested it on Aurora, and it\u2019s restored her cells, brought life back into her atrophied muscles. Physically, she\u2019s as healthy as when she fell into her coma.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut she\u2019s still sleeping,\u201d Jess said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThe cell restoration process brought vigor back to her body, but you&#8217;re correct. There\u2019s some spark missing in her. She won\u2019t wake. We\u2019re hoping you can\u2026 interact with her, on a subconscious level. Goad her into awakening.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess shook her head. \u201cEven if I try to observe her dreams, you realize that I can\u2019t just pop into her head and start asking her questions, right? It doesn\u2019t work that way. I can only observe, not interact.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cPerhaps that\u2019s how your \u201cdream machine\u201d back at Aeus Enterprises works, Jess, but we have more advanced technology here. You\u2019ll be able to not just observe, but fully experience and influence the dream just as Aurora experiences it, once we link her mind with yours.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess\u2019s mind reeled with questions, but Saul seemed to be growing increasingly short on patience. \u201cWhy me?\u201d Jess asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou have a special knack for making sense of the rambling incoherence of the subconscious mind. It\u2019s impressive, really. The analysts, they all recommended you above any of your peers.  That being said, you were not our first choice for the job. Your predecessor\u2026 backed out on us.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDo you mind telling me why?\u201d Jess asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThe mind-link interface was a little\u2026 intense for our first candidate. Aurora has been sleeping so long, her mind is like an abstract painting. It can be a lot to process.\u201d Saul paused, his crooked eyes scanning for any reaction from Jess to his words. As though he were trying to sniff out any hint of weakness. \u201cJust know that if you do this for me, you will be compensated greatly. I\u2019m thinking&#8230; early retirement.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNot the kind of \u2018early retirement\u2019 that involves a quick death before being flushed out to sea, I take it?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo.\u201d Saul shook his head and leaned in close. \u201cThe kind that means you get to live the rest of your life like royalty.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<strong>4: <\/strong>\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nRain slick walls shimmered in the waning reflections of the stars. Music softly echoed through the chamber, a droning symphony of broken clarinets and whimpering, muffled cellos, like the hand of a shadowy composer held over the orchestra\u2019s mouth, stifling their screams.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe table she lay upon was cold, and she had refuge from it. No warmth left of her own.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe couldn\u2019t open her eyes, but she suspected that was a blessing in disguise. If she could, she was sure that she\u2019d only see the blighted, abyssal shores of her own very special, very private hell. The images of her surroundings that flitted past her mind\u2019s eye were force fed in through the tubes that she could even now feel piercing through the skin of her scalp, down into the bone, lighting the ruined recesses of the dead grey matter that floated half decayed inside the grave of her own skull.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhere am I?\u201d Jess thought into the void. Her voice sounded lost, lonely, inside the sprawling catacombs of her subconscious mind.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe could hear the footsteps again. She tried in vain to move a finger. Wiggle a toe. Arch her back. Scream.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe footsteps were as deliberate as the ticking of a clock, just slower. As though whoever was approaching was scared they might awaken her. Or were perhaps just relishing the moment.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn her mind\u2019s eye she pictured the person so quietly approaching as a kind of Clockwork Prince, a devious, animatronic dandy twirling across the tile floors in a kind of stop motion interpretive dance, letting his anticipation for what was about to come double with each footfall and heartbeat and panicked swell of her own chest, until he, at last, came to stand over her bedside.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe leaned over and whispered to her with a viper hiss, forked tongue flicking her earlobe. \u201cMy sleeping beauty.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<strong>5: <\/strong>\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess returned to consciousness groggy, her body slow to shake off the effects of the chemical sleep. There was a ringing in her ears, shrill and constant. She recognized it after a moment&#8211;an EKG flatlining.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe struggled to move, to make words, but it was like trying to run underwater.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAurora\u2019s bedside was a frenzy of activity. Doctors wearing white smocks and face masks and blue gloves fiddled with dials and swapped out used bags of clear fluids for fresh ones. Jess noticed a clock on the wall, and in the haze of half sleep she watched the minutes pass. 5. 10. And still the EKG screeched that Aurora had no heartbeat.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nRealization dawned on her. Some of it from what she observed, some of it no doubt the residual effects of her mind-link with Aurora. But in that moment, Jess knew; they weren\u2019t resuscitating Aurora. She\u2019d be a lost cause by now. Aurora was dead. And something in Jess\u2019s mind whispered to her that Aurora had been dead for a long, long time.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSaul appeared at her side, without warning, and leaned over her. \u201cYou woke up faster than we anticipated, Jess.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAurora,\u201d Jess said. \u201cYou lied. She was dead before we even began.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cShe\u2019s been dead for years.\u201d Saul sighed. Jess wondered if he would have even shared this information is she hadn\u2019t come to the conclusion on her own. \u201cWe\u2019re trying to give her a pulse. We\u2019ve only be able to succeed in short intervals. We can\u2019t get her brain functioning, and without that the heart just stops all over again.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess tried to sit up, only to find herself strapped down to the bed. A wave of animalistic, gut piercing panic sliced through her.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSaul turned away, leaving Jess to struggle in vain against her bonds. One of the doctors approached him, and she was able hear their snippets of their conversation. \u201cWe were close, Mr. Aeus. Brain wave activity was spiking. Aurora was nearly able to sustain respiration on her own.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s closer than we\u2019ve ever been before.\u201d Saul walked back over to Jess, and ran his fingers through her hair.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLet me go,\u201d Jess whispered weakly. The thought of going back into that dreamscape, that feeling of being blind, unable to move or scream, but still aware of what was happening to you&#8230;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSaul smiled. \u201cYou\u2019ve done well. I know it was tough, but it\u2019s working. Yes, full disclosure, my sister was clinically dead. But with our cell rejuvenation formula, we were able to restore life to her long dead cells. Imagine the possibilities if we can actually restore brain function. We can make human beings effectively immortal.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSaul turned and nodded to one of the doctors, who rushed over with a long syringe. Jess tried to shake free of her bonds, using her shoulders to rock the bed, but several other doctors rushed over and she quickly found several hands holding her down.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou understand we can\u2019t let you walk away now. Not when you\u2019re getting us results. But you\u2019ll reap the benefits of all of this, I promise you.\u201d Saul squeezed her hand in an attempt to reassure her. Jess wanted to strangle him with the straps holding down her wrists.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe will have to intensify the mindlink. This is a specialized anesthetic, one that allows you a greater degree of cognitive function without letting you \u2018wake up\u2019.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<em>No.<\/em> Jess thought, unable to give voice to the words, her mind\u2019s eye burning with the afterimages of Aurora\u2019s dreams.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe needle pierced the flesh of her arm, and sleep crept in around the edges of her vision, turning everything black.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<strong>6:<\/strong>\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\">\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt was a strange feeling, the mind-link. Jess could feel a pressure, a presence that was always just behind her, looking over her shoulder. Aurora\u2019s consciousness was a tangled mess, rambling lunatic thoughts that seeped in from the periphery.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAt that particular moment, Aurora was pondering whether or not she was actually in hell.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess tried to visualize a setting. A place for herself and Aurora to interact. But all that she was able to conjure was that same cold room in Aeus Tower, lying on an operating table and surrounded by pale, red eyed doctors wearing blood covered smocks.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAurora seemed to accept this invitation. She emerged on the table opposite Jess, bleeding from a thousand syringe punctures. She looked like Jess had seen her in the real world, pale and drained of life, skin tight around her bones, with the cloudy eyes of a dead fish. It was then that Jess realized Aurora was not only regaining consciousness, she was pulling information directly from Jess\u2019s mind.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAurora turned her head and smiled.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess awakened from the dream to find herself in a stupor, smelling of antiseptic, strapped down to that familiar operating table, and still stuck with dozens of wires. They\u2019d been force feeding her fluids just to keep her alive, and the results were apparent. She was shrinking down to skin and bone.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess had noticed, some time ago, that one of the doctors kept a calendar on their desk, one that she could see clearly in the next room, beyond a set of glass windows. After each \u201csession,\u201d with Aurora, as she was lying there waiting for her next injection of anesthesia, she\u2019d glance over and see that another day had been torn away from the calendar and tossed into the wastebasket.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA week went by, then two. Then a month. All in the blink of an eye. The way that dreams just slink away come the morning light.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<em>It must just be part the dream<\/em>, Jess thought to herself. <em>Aurora\u2019s been lying there for so long, her fears are bleeding over into my conscious thoughts. They wouldn\u2019t just keep me strapped to this bed indefinitely, while they try in vain to bring life to a dead person.<\/em>\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe sun rose again. It looked so odd, pale and rough and shimmering, squatted low over the black waters. Eventually, another doctor came round with a needle to put her to sleep.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess awakened gasping for air. But this time the room felt different. The doctors were gone, the machines were silent. The lights flickered, threatening to shut down completely. Off to the side, behind panes of glass, Jess spotted Aurora sitting in the dark, her pearly eyes darting back and forth, like a panicked animal beset from danger on all sides. Her hair flowed softly behind her, the way curtains shift as the night wind rushes in from an open window.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAurora shrank away into the dark when she heard footsteps approaching from down the hall.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey both knew what the footsteps meant by now. The Clockwork Prince.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe Prince crawled into the room on all fours, broken backed, head suspended between his thighs, hands grasped tightly round his feet. He rolled around the tile like a snake being burnt alive by blistering desert sand.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe mind-link with Aurora had been growing stronger as of late, and this was apparent in the fact that Jess could see the Prince\u2019s face for the first time. And despite the frilly renaissance clothes and his contorted form, she found that it was a face she recognized. Saul Aeus.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSaul unfurled himself and rose from the floor to tower over Jess\u2019s bed. In the next room, Aurora shut her eyes, hiding herself completely.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn Saul\u2019s hand was a long syringe, dripping with a green liquid which hissed as drops of it fell and scalded her bed sheets.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSo still and peaceful,\u201d Saul said as he brushed Jess\u2019s hair with his slender fingers. \u201cMy sleeping beauty. I could never let you just rot in the dirt. If only I could wake you with a kiss. Or two. Or three.\u201d His tongue flicked at the stale air, and she felt his clammy hand caress her thigh.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAs the needle pricked her arm and the venom coursed, cold and raw, through her bloodstream, Jess felt the jaws of sleep close around her once again.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd then realization dawned upon her. She remembered; she was already asleep. Trapped in the most wretched dream. And with that realization, she knew that she had to change the setting. She needed to get Aurora out of here, away from her brother.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess imagined a bed. Something familiar to Aurora. But not a hospital bed. No machines, no doctors. No doors for unwanted guests to enter in the twilight hours. Jess tried to picture Aurora, not cold and blue, but vibrant, with rosy cheeks, lying between warm blankets, with a fire blazing quietly in the opposite corner of the room. Outside the window snow leisurely fell onto the leaf strewn autumn forest.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess took a seat in a chair next to where Aurora was lying. In her hand she held a storybook. \u201cI know you haven\u2019t been feeling well,\u201d Jess said, \u201cbut you\u2019ve been resting long enough. I think getting up and out will do you more good now. I\u2019ll tell you one story to put you to sleep, and I want you to wake up tomorrow ready to leave this place. How does that sound?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThe story,\u201d Aurora whispered, \u201cis it one with a handsome prince who comes to save a captive princess, and then he takes her back to live with him in his castle forever after?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes,\u201d Jess said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd what if the princess doesn\u2019t want to be saved?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThen she can burn down the whole castle, and the handsome prince with it, if that\u2019s what she wants.\u201d Jess smiled. \u201cAs long as she promises to get a good night\u2019s sleep, and wake up ready to leave this place in the morning.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAurora closed her eyes. Jess watched her for a time, but as she stared she noticed a strange orange light wash over Aurora\u2019s face, and then the rest of the room.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess turned to face the window, and outside she saw the entire forest consumed by fire.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<strong>7:<\/strong>\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess awakened to screams and chaos. The sounds rose and fell like lapping waves. The nameless, white-coated doctors scrambled over each other to flee the room.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJess heard the moaning sound of a dying animal coming from just underneath the table. She craned her neck and saw Saul Aeus lying at her bedside, bleeding from the throat and gasping for air. He dragged himself across the floor, leaving a red smear in his wake.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAurora was propped up against a nearby wall, wires trailing from her shaved scalp and her rail thin arms. Her mouth was soaked in her brother&#8217;s blood. She walked over to Jess awkwardly, as fast as her chemically rejuvenated legs would carry her. Aurora\u2019s eyes were as shrouded and distant as they were in the dream. Jess couldn\u2019t read anything of her intentions.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIs this still a dream?\u201d Jess asked. Aurora grabbed hold of her arm, and Jess felt the familiar prick of a needle. But this time, rather than putting her to sleep, she felt energy and vigor fill her muscles. Aurora had given her Saul\u2019s cell rejuvenation serum.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAurora fixed her gaze on the dying Saul. \u201cFather wanted Saul and I to have children,\u201d she said.     \u201cKeep the Aeus name alive.\u201d Her voice was a hoarse whisper, and her tongue fumbled over the words. \u201cThey started me off too young. Maybe that\u2019s why I could never get pregnant, who knows?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAurora loosened Jess\u2019s straps and helped her to sit upright. \u201cYou should go,\u201d she said. It was a command, not a request.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nDays, even weeks later, the image Jess was left with, the one that forever burned its way into her dreams, was of Aurora perched like a vulture over Saul as the last of his blood dribbled out of the wound in his neck and his eyes glazed over. As Jess walked away Saul reached his hand towards her, as though pleading with her not to leave him there alone. Jess kept walking.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe Aeus building burned all that night, and on into the next morning. Jess watched it all, watched the concrete blacken and the plumes of smoke swallow up the light from the rising sun.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFires happened in the city all the time, she knew, only to reach the water and fade away. The buildings would always remain standing, but Jess wondered if burning out the heart of Eidum would be enough to bring the rest of the city to ruin, in time.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn her heart she hoped so.<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"above\"><\/a><H1 LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\"><br \/>\n<FONT FACE=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><FONT SIZE=6>A Life Lived Above<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy Dale Carothers<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio spent his whole life looking up at the cosmos. He tracked the movements of the planets and charted the arrangements of the stars.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA life spent with his face pressed against a telescope left him with one puckered eye, no wife to warm his bed, and no child to inherit his vast knowledge of the sky.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio blinked his rheumy eyes and looked past his yellowed beard at the thick horns of his toenails sticking out from under the blankets. His feet framed a table. Soft bread and pale, crumbly cheese lay under the glass cover of a wooden tray. Beside the tray stood a bottle of mellow wine. Beyond that, dusty brass orreries lined the top shelf of a vast bookcase. Star maps and volumes written by Brecaccio himself were shoved haphazardly into the shelves.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAbove it all, on a folding ladder he\u2019d rested against the ceiling beams, stood Melchick. \u201cMagistero, I don\u2019t see anything.\u201d Melchick\u2019s Buerbec accent stumbled along the rhythms of the Flerosi language, hardening the consonants and thickening the vowels.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat are you looking for, boy?\u201d Brecaccio asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI was told we have an infestation of pixies.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMagistera Ofelia will be excited about that.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMelchick squealed and scurried down the ladder. His face was clad in lacy, gray spider webs. He peeled them away, and wiped them on the yellow robe that marked him as a second year student. \u201cIt\u2019s time for me to go.\u201d The metal fittings on the ladder squeaked as he folded it. \u201cI need to study for my mineralogy examination. Do you have everything you need?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI think so.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cRing the bell when you get hungry,\u201d Melchick said, pointing to the pull cord that hung near the headboard, \u201cand I\u2019ll come back to help you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI can get out of bed by myself!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMelchick picked up the ladder and clutched it under his arm. \u201cPlease, Magistero. I don\u2019t want you to fall again.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat wasn\u2019t my fault.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWere you alone?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio sucked his mustache into his toothless mouth. \u201cYes.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThen who else is to blame?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio waved a hand. \u201cFine, fine, you win. Congratulations. You can go now.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMelchick bowed. \u201cGood day, Magistero Brecaccio.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHurry along now, boy.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMelchick spun, his yellow robes swirling, and carried the ladder down the stairs. Brecaccio liked Melchick well enough, but the boy never knew when it was time to leave. He was a poor boy, from a poor country. Taking care of aging instructors helped pay his way.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio\u2019s room was in the attic of the building that bore his name: The Desinte Brecaccio Observatory. Faculty and students lived in the rooms below, and through the door on the South wall laid a railed catwalk that ran along the roof that led to the great dome of the observatory itself; a massive contraption of glass and brass.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIf Brecaccio wasn\u2019t so afraid of stairs, and the rushing summer winds that always threatened to tear him from the catwalk, he\u2019d be holding court. Peeling back the layers of the cosmos, to reveal its mysteries to the students gathered there.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut no, better to remain in bed. To rest and build his strength. Maybe he\u2019d go tomorrow, and give the bruise on his hip time to heal. He slipped his hand under the covers and patted his thigh.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe sucked in a breath. Still too tender. A little wine would dull the pain, but now that he\u2019d angered the sore spot, he\u2019d rather not get out of bed. He considered the pull cord, but now that he\u2019d finally gotten Melchick to leave, he didn\u2019t want any more annoying visitors.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut one came anyway.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA black speck crept along the white plaster of the ceiling, scuttling here and there, coming to quick stops and changing course in seemingly arbitrary directions.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio reached for the little wooden telescope that hung in a leather case from his headboard. It\u2019d been his first telescope, purchased by his father when Brecaccio was only ten years old. A boy with starry eyes, prone to sneaking out at night to gaze up into the sky. His father, a pig farmer, recognized the boy\u2019s proclivity, and saw a chance to turn one of his sons into a man of learning and letters.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio gave silent thanks to his father, fixed the telescope to his eye and focused it.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA black spider inched its way along the ceiling, and then stopped and anchored a web and began its descent toward the floor.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBefore it\u2019d fallen an inch, Brecaccio heard a small pop,  and the spider dangled dead like a bauble from a woman\u2019s ear. He heard a faint trampling, and then a tiny cadre of tiny men approached and gathered around the spider as if it were a prize stag in a hunt, their rifles over their shoulders and smiles upon their faces.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey walked upside down on the ceiling as if it were the ground itself. And though the spider hung, a victim of gravity, the tiny men kept the hats atop\u2014or more properly, under\u2014their heads and the contents of their pockets secure.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio had attended Magistera Ofelia\u2019s lectures about these ceiling-dwelling pixies, had even dallied with Ofelia for a time. But that was years ago, and her raven-haired beauty had paled in comparison to the pinpoint-diamond majesty of the stars. If Brecaccio didn\u2019t want to have yet another annoying conversation about why he\u2019d broken it off with her, he\u2019d ring for a student to go and fetch her. Pixies had become rare as of late, as had her lectures, though her last one, about changes in pixie physiology, had sounded interesting.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe constellation of six pixies split into two groups. Four of them took up a spot directly above Brecaccio, and the other two set about butchering the spider.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio\u2019s oldest friend, Magistero Pampa, Professor of Natural Philosophy, would\u2019ve loved to see this miniscule dissection. To peer through the pixies\u2019 eyes at the inner workings of the spider\u2019s leg.  But no. He\u2019d passed away years ago while giving a lecture on the anatomy of beetles.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio wiped away the tears that wet the eyepiece with the edge of the bed sheet. He missed his friend.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe group of four pixies began running in a circle above Brecaccio, and with each circuit a white line began to thicken into existence. When they were done, they made additional notations around the circle\u2019s edge.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio focused on the writing, but it was too small to see. Glancing about the room, he spied a larger telescope on a tripod near the window. He set his little telescope down and tried to get up.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe strained and wheezed, but did little more than summon a burning tightness in his chest. He lay there, breathing like a man who\u2019d run a marathon, until the feeling passed. And when he was able, he took up the little telescope again.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe pixies stood at asymmetrical, but cardinal points along their notations. He couldn\u2019t really tell, but he\u2019d only ever had a passing knowledge of pixie magic. It\u2019d always seemed like nothing more than mere twaddle to him.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe pain came back, intense and tight, but then faded and a feeling of comforting release washed over him.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio\u2019s point-of-view traveled up through the telescope and floated up toward the ceiling. The pixies ran in circles again, but now they sang a high-pitched song. When Brecaccio\u2019s head brushed the plaster he stopped, but didn\u2019t bump his head. He\u2019d cringed in anticipation, but felt no pain. In fact, the pain in his hip was gone too, as were all of the aches and pains that came with his eighty-two years.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA pixie walked upside down toward Brecaccio. It stood so close that he could only focus one eye on it. \u201cGood afternoon, Magistero.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat has happened?\u201d Brecaccio asked. \u201cAm I dead?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe pixie pointed at the bed. \u201cYes.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio looked down. His body had gone slack, but his right hand still clutched the telescope. It lay against his chest like a nursing baby at its mother\u2019s breast.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio tried to wipe away his tears, to mourn the loss of his life, but his ghostly hand passed through his face. He screamed and flailed his arms. He\u2019d been unmoored from the insistent clutches of gravity, and it scared him.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe pixie let the tantrum pass, and soon Brecaccio relaxed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI don\u2019t understand,\u201d Brecaccio said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHave you ever died before?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe pixie shrugged. \u201cThen nobody would expect you to understand.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh\u2026\u201d Brecaccio thought back on all of his conversations with Magistera Ofelia and the eldritch volumes that lined her bookshelves. Nothing came to mind.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThat bothered him. All of his knowledge, everything gleaned since birth, had always been at his instant disposal. Rarely had either a student or another professor ever stumped him.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut this situation, while beyond his understanding and control, offered new knowledge and a way of staving off death for however long it lasted. Both were good reasons to go along with it.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat happens now?\u201d Brecaccio asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe pixie smiled. \u201cThis conversation will go much easier if we put you the right way around.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI am the right way around.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNot for our purposes.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio flapped a hand. \u201cFine.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe pixie took up his position at the edge of the circle, stuck a finger into the air and twirled it around. The pixies ran, faster than before, and sang a song of quick-time arpeggios.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio spun, and then began twisting into a tight-woven ghost rope. The ghost-rope shrank, coiled in upon itself and condensed Brecaccio\u2019s life essence down into a tiny ghost-man. And when it was done the pixie walked over, grabbed Brecaccio\u2019s leg and spun him sideways, until his feet floated just below the ceiling. The pixie put his hands on Brecaccio\u2019s shoulders and pressed down. The feeling of gravity returned, but coming from the wrong direction.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cCome with me,\u201d the pixie said. \u201cI\u2019ll make introductions.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio took a few tentative steps. The ceiling felt solid under his feet, and he didn\u2019t have the sense that he was upside down. He looked up at the floor. His old room seemed like a vast cathedral, painted with a rather mundane fresco.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cPlease, Magistero, we don\u2019t have much time before nightfall.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat happens at nightfall?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s up to you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio followed the pixie to the campsite. The other pixies set down their meals of roasted spider leg and stood. All of them&#8211;both male and female&#8211;wore slouching hats, short pants with hose, leather jerkins and duckbill shoes. Each was doe-eyed and had pointed ears that rose above their caps. The men wore long mustaches that they tied to the points of their ears. Silver baubles hung from the drooping hair.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI am Pischle,\u201d the first pixie said. The silver baubles along his mustache jingled, \u201cand this is Quaver, Boute, Dombray, Licksie, and Footfeet.\u201d When he finished the introductions he asked, \u201cWhy don\u2019t we talk about why we are all here?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGo ahead,\u201d Brecaccio answered, sitting down at the fire, but refusing the offer of roasted spider leg.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe are explorers. And we\u2019ve been tasked with finding other worlds and other magics.\u201d Pischle said. \u201cYou humans, in these places of higher learning,\u201d he twirled the chunk of spider leg in his hand, \u201chave girded the borders of our magic. It used to extend from one end of this world to the other. Our lands, and our influence, are shrinking, because of your ever-expanding cities, and ever-spreading knowledge. You\u2019ve defined a world that once lacked definition, a world that once worked on superstition and the magic that surrounded it. The maps have been drawn, all the way to the edges. Nothing has been left a mystery, and nothing has been left for us. We are small, but not so small that we can live in this \u2018nothing.\u2019\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio stood. \u201cBut we spread word of your kind. Why, Magistera Ofelia-\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNobody respects what she has to say.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI did.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow long did you stay with her? How many times did you laugh about her work with your colleagues?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut\u2026I\u2026\u201d Brecaccio remembered some of what he\u2019d said. Sure her work had validity, proof of it sat about him in a circle, but everyone knew that magic was fading, and that the real work of humankind lay in defining the world, cataloging every detail. Everyone knew that knowledge was finite, and that soon they would know everything. And then humankind would be complete.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe very motto was carved into the archway of the University.  All Will Be Known.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio had worked his whole life toward the idea of completion. He knew everything about the heavens. He\u2019d written it down for everyone to read, and had lectured about it for decades. He was happy to let magic fade. It blurred the borders, made categorization difficult, and made knowledge slippery.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d Brecaccio said. \u201cWe only sought to learn everything there was to know. To achieve perfection.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd then what?\u201d Pischle asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI don\u2019t know. There\u2019s still so much to learn. It\u2019ll take decades.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMeanwhile, our home,\u201d Pischle waved a hand at the other pixies, \u201cgets smaller every day.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThere\u2019s nothing I can do about that.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAhh!\u201d Pischle held up a finger. \u201cYes there is. We can use your knowledge of the heavens to find a new world. If only you\u2019d help us?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd if I refuse?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhy would you do that?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cFor the sake of argument.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe turn you back around, unbind your life force, and let you find out what happens after you die.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd maybe you can write a book about it,\u201d Footfeet said. \u201cBut nobody will get a chance to read it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAll the pixies laughed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat do you need me to do?\u201d Brecaccio asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cCome with us,\u201d Pischle said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe pixies finished their meal and packed up their camp.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIs everyone ready?\u201d Pischle asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhere are we going?\u201d Brecaccio asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTo the observatory.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio followed, curious, but still unsure about how far he\u2019d go.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nUsing a rope the pixies had left behind, they climbed up the doorframe and crawled through a little hole in the plaster above the door and passed out onto the catwalk, arranging themselves single-file along the underside of the railing. A light breeze ruffled Brecaccio\u2019s clothes, and it was then that he realized that he was still wearing his long sleep-shirt and robe. His feet were bare, and he was ready to be embarrassed of his thick, yellow toenails when he noticed that his feet were different. Gone were the fine blue veins that webbed the pale arches of his feet, and his toenails were clear as clouded glass\u2014almost elegant compared to what he\u2019d grown used to.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis hands, arms and beard betrayed certain changes as well.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio grabbed Pischle\u2019s shoulder. \u201cYou\u2019ve given me back my youth!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOf course I did. We couldn\u2019t have you gallivanting around on arthritic legs.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio daintily took hold of his robe and did a little curtsy. \u201cYou could\u2019ve given me new clothes too.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s just silly. I\u2019m not a seamstress.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey continued on down the railing, weaving around the spindles, and when they reached the dome of the observatory they used another set of ropes the climb to the scratched, brass keyhole. It was a tight fit, but they all made it through.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nInside, they climbed down the door, using handholds that the pixies had cut into the wood.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe wide bowl of the dome was like a vast empty lake, the oculus at the nadir having served as the drain. The 10-meter brass telescope hung in the center of the domed space within a web of chains and pulleys. The telescope was pointed straight up at the oculus, but it could be focused on nearly any point in the sky through the many levels of shutters that\u2019d been cut into the dome.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe pixies removed their jerkins, bunched them up under their posteriors and took turns sliding down the long, curving slope in a space between the shutters.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio removed his robe, folded it and braced his feet on the ledge. The oculus looked so far away, and he feared breaking his hip, but then remembered that he was young again. But not in spirit. Three decades\u2019 worth of honing his world down to safe and reasonable activity had made his world small.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio laughed. His whole world was small now. Or was it instead humungous, now that he was small?\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe pixies called to him from below. They waved their arms and encouraged him to let go of his fears and slide. Brecaccio scooted forward and lifted his feet. He descended in an exhilarating whoosh and had to roll off of his bundled robe so that he didn\u2019t crash into the lip of the oculus. He ended up tangled in his robe, giggling and wondering if they had time to climb back up and go again.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe pixies removed their shirts and added them to the pile of jerkins on the ceiling. Brecaccio averted his eyes, but when they laughed at him he turned back. The chests of the female pixies were nearly undistinguishable from those of the males, the only variation being that their nipples were pink instead of brown.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio\u2019s interest in their gender differences faded when he saw their wings.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhy did we walk all the way here, climbing ropes and sliding down the dome, when you could\u2019ve just flown here?\u201d Brecaccio asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe\u2019ve changed our wings,\u201d Pischle said. \u201cThey don\u2019t work like they used to.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio looked again. Their wings were bigger&#8211;he\u2019d seen several paintings in Magistera Ofelia\u2019s room&#8211;and lacy rather than solid, and not much good for catching air. And instead of their usual glow, magic flowed through the traceries of wing like blood through veins.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI don\u2019t understand,\u201d Brecaccio said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou will,\u201d Pischle said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey heard a rattling from below and then voices. A row of students filed into the room. They rushed toward the telescope and gathered around the eyepiece. They moved with the feverish excitement of youth, orbiting each other in tiny groups. Their behavior and white robes identified them as first years. Magistera Ofelia came in behind the students and they parted to let her pass to the eyepiece. Her graying black hair lay in long coiled knots down the back of her head, so long that they almost touched the floor.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBefore we take this any further,\u201d Pischle said. \u201cI want to be sure of one thing. Do you know how this telescope was constructed?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio smiled and readied a lecture in his head. He stood up straighter and pitched his voice to carry. \u201cGlassmaking was first discovered by\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cA simple yes will do.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201c\u2026the Lemadician. Emperor\u2026\u201d Brecaccio had always had difficulty stopping a lecture once he got going, and it\u2019d become harder with age. \u201cYes.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd given simple tools, could you construct one of your own?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nDiagrams, tools and methodologies filled Brecaccio\u2019s head, threatening to burst forth from his throat in a storm of pedantry. He twitched and swallowed. \u201cYes.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGood,\u201d Pischle said, looking down. \u201cChoose a student. One with a wide-eyed sense of wonder, and tell us when he or she approaches the telescope.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cEasy enough,\u201d Brecaccio said. \u201cMagistera Ofelia will do nicely.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio had always found her sustained joy in looking at the heavens a trifle immature. Her gaze, while learned, was still like that of a child. So willing to see the magic in everything. They\u2019d debated the point more than once.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHurry then,\u201d Pischle said. \u201cWe need to stand on the lens while she is at the eyepiece.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe pixies, one by one, spread their wings and glided over to the telescope. They flipped in midair and came to a rest on the lens, as if the sudden reversal of gravity was commonplace.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBelow, the students stirred and began talking about the \u201cbirds\u201d up on the lens and arguing about who was going to climb the stairs and investigate.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSoon only Pischle and Brecaccio stood on the lip if the oculus.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s time to go,\u201d Pischle said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI don\u2019t know if I can make the jump.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nPischle stepped over, grabbed Brecaccio\u2019s nightclothes and pulled them off. Brecaccio was left naked, save for the linen undergarments that covered his nether region. Brecaccio felt tingling, his first unfurling and a rush of energy that ran up his spine to his brain.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLacy wings spread out behind him. He flexed his new muscles and his wings undulated.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou can use those,\u201d Pischle said. \u201cNow, come on!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nPischle glided over to the lens, executing the flip perfectly.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio stepped to the edge of the oculus and looked down. A student had been tasked to investigate the disturbance on the lens, and she had started the long journey up the stairs. Ofelia pulled away from the eyepiece looked up at the oculus and then leaned back into the eyepiece.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cJump,\u201d Pischle said. \u201cI can feel her.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe pixies had spread out to the edges of the lens. Brecaccio imagined that they appeared as dark blotches arrayed around the view of the telescope blocking out portions of the stars.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMagic coruscated through the pixies\u2019 wings, and sparks drifted slowly up off of them like glowing drops falling in the wrong direction. Brecaccio felt no such magic. His wings lay dormant.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio laughed. It seemed so silly, so undignified to be standing there, upside down, in his smallclothes, with tiny wings sticking out of his back. It defied reality. It defied the rigors of science. And yet it was happening. Right now. To him. He, the observer. A man who\u2019d trusted his eyes for decades. A man who\u2019d trusted his mind to measure the observable and write it down, so that others could benefit from his hard work.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut who was he to deny the new learning that lay before him? Who was he to deny the very things that were happening to him at that moment?\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe\u2019d lived his whole life knowing that one day humankind would know everything. But that sense of completion implied a limit on knowledge. A willful ignorance of things that lay outside the tightly bordered world of human insight.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIf only Ofelia could see him now, among a coterie of pixies. He\u2019d be forced to admit that Ofelia\u2019s work held promise, and had, at this very moment, dovetailed with his own life\u2019s work.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio spread his wings and glided to the lens. His midair flip was less graceful and he needed a moment to stand after landing. As he paced to the center, his wings stiffened with magic. He looked down, wondering if Ofelia could see the smile on his face, and waved.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe pixies gathered around him. Their wings spread, dripping sparks into the sky.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nDirectly above lay the Hubstar. All other stars wheeled around it. It was the center, the apex, and their destination.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrecaccio crouched and leapt into the sky, riding on waves of Ofelia\u2019s imagination. The pixies flew near him in a ragged circle. They must\u2019ve looked like a fleeing constellation to Ofelia.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTo her, Brecaccio was the center. The Hubstar of this tiny constellation, fading in the sparkling dark of the heavens. He wished he had the time to stop and tell her that her sense of wonder had powered their journey.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut it was too late. There was no going back. And though he was a young man again, he had the powerful sense of regret that only an old man can feel.<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"climes\"><\/a><H1 LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\"><br \/>\n<FONT FACE=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><FONT SIZE=6>Marching into Blue Climes<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy Rhoads Brazos<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe wagon lurched and leaned up the crooked road to the dry bluffs. There, on ground of splintered shale and rust-colored lichen, where bull thistle twisted between the cracks of the earth, lay the disused home of Wallace Whitton\u2019s father. Wallace, atop the wagon with reins in hand, smiled at his son and motioned to the firepit-gray ocean, where he hoped the boy might wish to play. He tried to seem sincere in his enthusiasm, but gained no like response. The boy stared ahead and drummed his thin fingers in an intricate rhythm upon the wagon\u2019s rails.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen they stopped before the home, Wallace kept his watery smile in place. Their former guest house had been more expansive than this, and in far better repair. He hoped his son couldn\u2019t read his disappointment, but the boy had seen so much. How could he know one truth and not grasp another?\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe son touched at his fingertips. Each looked as if it had been dipped into a rhubarb pandowdy.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWallace caught the boy\u2019s hands and held them tight. \u201cYou mustn\u2019t.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe boy watched the sky, its clouds smeared over an expanse as pale as memory.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDo you hear?\u201d Wallace asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe boy answered that he did.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOur things are inside. Go and see.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe boy climbed down from the wagon and made his way into the house. The dismal structure was all that remained of the Whitton fortune, enduring only because it had lain outside the field of battle. If only they had all been so blessed. <em>Viridis<\/em>, the former Savannah vineyard, had been smashed, stolen, and eaten by Grant and his Hessians. While the rumble of their march faded to the south, Wallace Whitton had knelt amongst the ruins and, with his own cultured hands, dug through the cinders of his past, the cooling ashes of his family\u2019s legacy, to grasp Nettie\u2019s unanswering fingers.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAs Wallace hefted their last load of belongings to the ground, a plinked melody of single keys struck by a single finger sounded from the house\u2019s corner room. The boy had found it. Wallace headed inside to bandage his boy\u2019s fingers before they stained the ivory.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe months passed in a drab haze of impressions, each forcibly inserting itself between Wallace and what his life had been. He spent the day watching the sea and imagined Nettie reaching up from its murk. He\u2019d pull her to safety and she\u2019d smile. Her sockets weren\u2019t yawning wide and vacant; her teeth weren\u2019t blackened behind shriveled lips. Some days the boy joined him and they strolled the wet-pressed sand hemming the water\u2019s edge, but Wallace couldn\u2019t guess where his son\u2019s young thoughts wandered.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOn a late day in March the school master arrived and tried to persuade Wallace to do the proper thing.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHonor his mind,\u201d the man intoned in a deep contrabasso.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWallace frowned at the way the school master\u2019s beard jutted over his barrel-framed torso. He thought of boots falling like a thousand-fold hammers, the head of each poised over a coffin nail.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou are a learned man yourself, yes?\u201d the school master asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo,\u201d Wallace said. The school master seemed taken aback. \u201cI know nothing of the world.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDo not limit your young Ernest\u2019s possibilities.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhich you presume to know?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cA proper education will\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWallace set a hand on the school master\u2019s shoulder. \u201cCome and listen.\u201d He led him inside.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAn hour later the school master exited the house. His lips trembled as he climbed back up onto his gig. He eyed the studio window where he knew the boy to be, drew in sharply, and snapped the reins. He never returned.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWallace watched the polished carriage until it reached the distant rise and winked away like a dying ember. He turned to the house, its every window open. Worn linen drapery caught the eastern breeze in tabbying flutters.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLoose him, and let him go,\u201d Wallace muttered.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe scullery maid had abandoned them last week. She\u2019d learned to avoid the boy\u2019s studio, especially when the lad played, but that only delayed the inevitable. There had been too many touches and pinches and whispered promises from empty rooms. On her final day, Wallace had rescued the poor girl from the larder in a state of disarray and abject panic. She offered no thanks, but had slapped Wallace hard\u2014a stinging blow that set his ears to ringing.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWallace touched his cheek again. His wife had been the last to strike him. He\u2019d been carousing with the hired hands after an unusually bountiful harvest had been pulled scant days before an early frost. He\u2019d do anything to have her strike him again.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe windows closed, all of them at once. The whole house blinked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn the studio, Wallace pushed back deep into the couch cushions and allowed himself to drift. The boy\u2019s music had progressed from motifs to melodies to grand soundscapes. His fingers had caught up with his ambitions, perhaps\u2014they seemed not to be lacking. Wallace relaxed and tried to ignore cool draughts that came and went without cause. The chairs had pulled away from the walls again and circled about the boy at a polite distance.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cErnest,\u201d Wallace said. \u201cCan you play something\u2014more\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe boy pulled his hands away from the keys and rested them in his lap. He kept his back to his father.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat I mean to ask is, my boy, can you craft something bright? Something cheery? Remember when the four of us picnicked upon the high hill?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe boy did remember, but was his father certain he wished to hear?\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWithout a doubt,\u201d Wallace said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe boy\u2019s fingers again fell to the keys, building impressions around a shifting theme. Swells of melody counterpointed a sublime accompaniment. The music rose and fell. It flowed as speech and whispered like the wind.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWallace saw that day clear before him. He felt the family\u2019s measured pace over a wildflower hillside and tasted air sweetened with aster and hop clover. The blanket, held at a corner by each one of them, was laid under the bough of a wide magnolia. As he and Nettie reclined near one another, Ernest and Franklin explored a nearby stream. Wallace felt the mist of rippling eddies, slickened stones, and a yielding carpet of moss. It was as if he were with the boys at the waters.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHave you ever thought of our having a daughter?\u201d Nettie asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWallace chuckled as Ernest slipped from a stone and soaked his leg up to the shin. \u201cHave you?\u201d he asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSometimes.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd what do you see?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWallace idly wondered how the boy had heard the conversation.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cShe\u2019d have your hair,\u201d Nettie said. \u201cCurling and the color of molasses.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt hardly curls.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd my smarts.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIs that so?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNettie laughed. \u201cI\u2019d teach her to be a proper lady.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAre you implying I\u2019ve faltered with\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOf course not. I\u2019d make her dresses.\u201d Nettie rested her head on Wallace\u2019s shoulder. \u201cDresses of violet and buttermilk yellow with pearl buttons.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou can bury her in them.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWallace seized at the voice, not his own. The music\u2019s memory didn\u2019t lie. It came from right nearby. It had been a breeze before, a susurration easily ignored, yet the keys gave it voice.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd if it\u2019s a boy?\u201d Wallace asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnother?\u201d Nettie lifted her head and pressed her mouth close to his. \u201cShe won\u2019t be.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe held his palm to her cheek. She closed her eyes and her lips parted. She kissed the sole of a desiccated foot. A series of diminished arpeggios raced up the bare leg to the bloodied and beaten body of the stripped negro hanging above them, his noosed neck snapped clean through.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBe down in the ground, soon \u2018nough,\u201d he whispered. He spun slowly with the wind. He never quit weeping. Tears dripped from the tip of his nose. \u201cAin\u2019t worth the bother.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWallace found himself at his boy\u2019s side. He yanked the boy\u2019s hands from the keys. \u201cStop it!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe boy blinked rapidly and made to turn back to the keyboard.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow dare you lie! On <em>her<\/em> memory of all\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe boy interrupted.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo,\u201d Wallace said. \u201cThere was nothing. There was\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe bough, as thick as a man\u2019s waist, had been worn smooth at a convenient spot, at a lethal height. The boy had seen it when they arrived\u2014Wallace had too, but had forced the fact away.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrom the darkness of the studio came a low growl. Shadows shifted and the air drew close, as if Wallace were standing in a very small space. A sigh of floorboards issued from the left, the right.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cPlay,\u201d Wallace whispered. \u201cIf it keeps the Devil at bay, then play to the end.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe music started again, spilling forth the runaway\u2019s prophecies in forbidden chordings. They foretold the elder brother\u2019s demise at his first battle. He would lay weeping in the mud, his body curled and fetal. As a cavalry charge churned his blood and bile into the earth, he cursed his father\u2019s name. Later, the mother would plead with men who slouched in blue uniforms. She was with child, she cried, but the soldiers, drunk on Wallace\u2019s own label, didn\u2019t let that hamper them. In a fit of shame at himself and his remaining son, the father would grasp a blade, the saber of his fallen eldest, and hold it to his own throat.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI hate this world,\u201d Wallace said. The music yielded to his words. His each syllable fell lyrically with the meter, as if the song had been written with his interjection in mind. \u201cNow I have nothing.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrom the darkness, a chorus hummed the tale of their own demise, cheated out of living.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cA pistolshot to the brain isn\u2019t enough for a despot!\u201d Wallace cried. He spun to all sides. Their cold gaze was upon him, he knew. \u201cThey should all burn for what they\u2019ve done. If there were any justice, if Providence smiled upon its children, they would be made to suffer as I have. As we have!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWallace fell to the floor and sobbed. The music went on, pulsing with each inhale, metronomed to his heartbeat. The song of his failings would never end.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCold hands tucked themselves around him and bore him to his feet. The others had heard the ballad of his past. They understood his earlier intrusion and, as brothers, they forgave. Wallace sagged forward but didn\u2019t fall. As they dragged him toward his bedroom, his feet trailed loose over the dusty floor.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe next season arrived and Wallace sat slumped and ragged on the south edge of the porch. He watched his boy down by the waters, playing his tiny drum and marching up and down the beach. Wallace hadn\u2019t wanted to return the instrument to him, but too much was in motion. At this point he wasn\u2019t sure he could say no. It had been difficult to coax the lad away from the house, but the boy relented when Wallace explained the reasoning. The boy\u2019s audience went with him.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMistuh Whitton?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWallace looked up at the piano tuner, a slight man with a feminine face, one whose youth was beginning to seep into crinkled corners. The tuner leaned in the doorway and folded a long strip of felt into pleats. He placed it in a leather pouch. The tuning wrenches holstered along his belt jangled lightly.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAre you done?\u201d Wallace asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah. Fine instrument.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWallace nodded and turned back to the shore.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019cha boy?\u201d the tuner asked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHe\u2019s my youngest.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLuckily the wind carried the beat of the boy\u2019s drum away. There was no telling what it could possess a man to do.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSaw some of his scribblins upon the music stand,\u201d the tuner said. \u201cQuite remarkable.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWallace didn\u2019t answer.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s a long ride,\u201d the tuner said, \u201cand I was wonderin\u2019. I won\u2019t reach home \u2018fore nightfall, but it would be worth it to me, I think, if you\u2019d call him up to play.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTrust me. You don\u2019t want to hear.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh, but I do!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI sincerely doubt that.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s not meant in jest, suh. I\u2019ve heard things concernin\u2019 him.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd what <em>have<\/em> you heard, pray tell?\u201d Wallace glared sideways at the man.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe tuner rubbed at his fingers. He came close to Wallace and sat. \u201cHe paints with sound. He\u2019s a genius, they say.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWallace scoffed. He thought of all the potential gossips who\u2019d visited the home\u2014the school master, the one-time maid, the delivery boys. The minister had come by once. That hadn\u2019t gone well.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI meant it as a healing tool,\u201d Wallace said. \u201cErnest always loved music.\u201d He scowled at the distant beach. \u201cI didn\u2019t think it would lead here. I thought it would help him to . . . forget things.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow long\u2019s he been playing?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAlmost a year.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nDown at the shore, the sand kicked up in a mile-long swath and the waters churned. One would think it to be an insistent gust from the sea, but Wallace knew that wasn\u2019t the case. The air along the waters buzzed like a ball of hornets, but not on account of the weather. How many were there? Fifty abreast, sixty? How far back did they go? Wallace mentally tallied columns.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cRemarkable suh,\u201d the tuner said. \u201cSelf-taught, they say.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes. He learned at the Battle of Manassas,\u201d Wallace said. \u201cHe saw and he heard and it changed him forever.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe tuner fiddled with his pipe. \u201cI don\u2019t follow.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMy eldest, Franklin, joined Stonewall\u2019s forces. He took Ernest with him, so that they could both revel in glory.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBit young.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes, and done without my approval, mind you. Though I blame myself for encouraging him, both of them really. I say things sometimes I shouldn\u2019t. My wife, she used to scold me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSure \u2018nough. Bet he was good though.\u201d The tuner gave his pipe a few strong puffs, working up a thick cloud.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHe kept their attention.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe boy had sent the men into a frenzy. He struck out rhythms that drove them mad, turned the most sheepish into demons. It was his hand that guided each blade, his finger that pulled each trigger. By proxy, he had slain a thousand.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWallace watched the beach. The waves washed the footprints away, but they reformed the moment the waters receded. He hoped the tuner hadn\u2019t noticed that fact.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAfter Manassas, the brass never allowed him back on the field of battle,\u201d Wallace said. \u201cI\u2019m not sure, but I think they feared him.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe tuner let the conversation wilt away. Perhaps he found it too much of a struggle to maintain his part in such an odd discourse.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou\u2019re not gonna let him play for me, are ya?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo. I like you. I want you to come back for the next time. You\u2019re Cajun?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cA touch. Transplanted from Baton Rouge, after.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI thought so. I left your payment on the front table along with a thank you Ernest wrote for you. A short sonatina, I believe. I told him to keep it light.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe tuner\u2019s eyes lit up. \u201cThank you, suh.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLight, I told him. If it seems off-key, you should burn it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe tuner slipped his tools back in his saddlebags and carefully laid the gifted pages within. With a farewell tip of his hat, he took his horse up the north road at an easy pace. Wallace felt a pang of regret. He hadn\u2019t considered sympathetic bystanders, but then again, neither had innocence shielded his own family.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe months of music had trained Wallace\u2019s eyes as well as his ears. If he ever again approached that lone magnolia on the hill, he would see its forgotten occupant. He\u2019d notice that forever twisting body the same way he spied the reconnoitering troops hustling past the tuner\u2019s mount, the same way he heard the stamp and press of the furious masses climbing the far bluff, each soul brimming with a shared rage for that which they\u2019d lost.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe boy stood before the porch with his drum slung over one shoulder and lashed around his waist. Wallace had tried to talk him out of this and promised to have the piano tuned\u2014a loose bribe to keep the boy here\u2014but knew it wouldn\u2019t work. He could say that he\u2019d tried, though he\u2019d never meant to succeed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cErnest.\u201d Wallace placed a hand on the boy\u2019s shoulder.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s for Ma and Frankie and everyone else.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cFor us,\u201d Wallace said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cEspecially for us.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWallace\u2019s eyes brimmed with tears. A part of his youngest had been lost with the oldest. Wallace needed to listen to the dead to hear him clearly. This young boy with ancient eyes echoed Wallace\u2019s own thoughts, yet once this was put into motion Wallace had no idea how it could be stopped.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cCome back to me,\u201d Wallace said. \u201cIf I lose another\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNaught shall touch me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAs if in response, the double phalanx of spirits about the boy glowered out of the ether. The air burned like salt in a wound. Wallace knew they offered only the merest taste. Their true power would blister a body into paste.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cFollow the beach for the entire night,\u201d Wallace said. \u201cTurn in at Herring Bay and you\u2019ll reach Annapolis by this time tomorrow.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe\u2019re behind enemy lines. My scouts will guide me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes, they will at that.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe boy turned to his troops. He sounded a long roll upon his drum and ended with a snap. Wallace found himself sitting ramrod straight. The call couldn\u2019t be resisted.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe boy, conductor and general, cried out, \u201cThe South shall rise again!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA half-million boots cracked heel to heel.<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"memory\"><\/a><H1 LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\"><br \/>\n<FONT FACE=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><FONT SIZE=6>A Memory, Perfected<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy Derrick Boden<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Let&#8217;s play hooky.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJessie&#8217;s fingers tiptoe down my chest, sending tremors across my naked body. Her heart pumps hard against my side.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI grab her hand and bring it to my lips. &#8220;Wish I could.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe juts out her lower lip. The morning sunlight filters through the blinds, casting patterns across her skin. A Stellar&#8217;s jay whines from the oak tree.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;If you drop Cat off at school,&#8221; she says. &#8220;I promise I&#8217;ll still be in bed when you get back.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI scratch my head. &#8220;Big day at the office, today. The neural processors are ready. Another week and we&#8217;ll be cleared for our first human subject.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJessie rolls her eyes, then drops into a radio announcer drawl. &#8220;Topping the charts of inappropriate pillow talk for twelve consecutive months: brain transplants.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI start to laugh, when a rumble shakes the room. The window goes dark. A knot forms in my stomach.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA voice, throaty and thick, rolls in. &#8220;Resuming cerebral scans.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI blink. The darkness evaporates. Jessie&#8217;s looking at me, expectant.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;You&#8217;re not even listening,&#8221; she says. &#8220;Your head&#8217;s already at the lab.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI shoot a suspicious glance at the window. Sunlight floods in. The Stellar&#8217;s jay whines.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Sorry, babe&#8211;&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJessie stuffs a pillow on my face. I flail my arms around like I&#8217;m suffocating, then go limp. She prods my side with a finger, but I don&#8217;t move.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Oh my god, are you ok?&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI hold my breath. She can be so gullible.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAfter a pause, she prods a bit lower. I flinch, and she cackles. I toss the pillow aside and draw her body to my own. I can afford to be a little late.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nDownstairs, Cat&#8217;s shoveling giant spoonfuls of granola into her mouth, sloshing milk everywhere.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Easy,&#8221; I say. &#8220;Remember to breathe.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe pauses between bites to push her glasses up her nose. The frames are black with tiny skulls. She says they&#8217;re &#8220;counter culture,&#8221; one of the many phrases I never expected to hear from an eight-year-old.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCat scrutinizes me as I pack up my briefcase. &#8220;Aliya gets Fruit Loops every day.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Well then, Aliya will be learning about diabetes very soon.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Hey,&#8221; Jessie says on the way to the table. &#8220;Aliya&#8217;s a good kid.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJessie&#8217;s eyes close as she savors her first sip of coffee. Her hair&#8217;s pulled back into a ponytail, and she&#8217;s wearing her red shirt that plunges tantalizingly deep. Tight pinstripe slacks. A hint of perfume drifting in her wake, as if whispering: &#8220;Should&#8217;ve played hooky.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI look away. &#8220;You about ready, Kiddo?&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCat drops her bowl into the sink. &#8220;Born ready, Daddo.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOutside, Cat hops into the backseat. Jessie slides in at my side. My phone buzzes as I&#8217;m backing out of the driveway. It&#8217;s work. At this hour, that&#8217;s either very good news or very bad news.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCat&#8217;s messing around with her seatbelt. &#8220;Can we go swimming this weekend?&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI fumble with my phone, manage to get the speaker engaged.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Hello?&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nRustling on the other end.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Sure, kiddo,&#8221; Jessie says. &#8220;As long as&#8211;&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrakes scream against asphalt. I look over in time to see the grill of the truck. Both side windows explode. I can&#8217;t hear my own yelling over the crunching of metal and glass. Ribbons of blood stream through the air, and&#8211;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe glass freezes. The blood lifts up, like rain moving in reverse. Metal and flesh fade into blurred patterns, then into distinct shapes. Faces. Dr. Roberts, from the lab. Dr. Stephens, behind her. The intern, Harry.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Did you see that?&#8221; Stephens&#8217; big gray mustache bobs up and down as he talks. &#8220;The neural activity.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey&#8217;re poring over machines. My machines.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;He&#8217;s accessing episodic memories.&#8221; Roberts chews on her pencil. &#8220;But his cognitive functions are all over the charts.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThen I see it. Past the doctors and the machines and the blinding fluorescent lights. Against the far wall, a mirror. In the mirror, myself. Or the thing that stands where I should be. I&#8217;m strapped to an upright medical bed, facing forward. I&#8217;m wearing another man&#8217;s body. Hairier, thinner. Knobby knees. Small, sagging gut. My head&#8217;s shaved, and framed with surgical scars. My eyes are brown, instead of blue.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI try to move, but only my eyes respond. I can&#8217;t speak.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;The neural processor isn&#8217;t reacting properly,&#8221; Roberts says. &#8220;It&#8217;s having trouble bridging the gap between perceptual awareness and residual memory.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Could be a result of the trauma.&#8221; Stephens drops his voice and leans closer to Roberts. &#8220;Emotional, I mean. Do you think he was conscious, when his family died? It took the EMTs twenty minutes to get there.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA coldness slips across my new skin. I want to close my ears, forget what I&#8217;ve heard, what I&#8217;ve done. I need to get out of this place. My heart beats faster, and my fingers twitch.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Look.&#8221; Roberts walks closer. &#8220;We&#8217;ve got progress.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI want to tell Roberts that she&#8217;s wrong. This isn&#8217;t progress. But my lips won&#8217;t move.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe weight of the neural processor presses against my skull. Having trouble bridging the gap, they said. I focus on my reflection, the false brown eyes and the hairy chest. I know this technology. It has flaws. I can exploit them.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Something&#8217;s happening.&#8221; Stephens&#8217; voice edges up a notch. &#8220;He&#8217;s slipping back into episodic memory.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Keep monitoring,&#8221; Roberts says, but her voice comes from underwater. Their faces, the machines, the room all fade to white.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI blink through the sunlight. My heartbeat slows.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Let&#8217;s play hooky.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJessie&#8217;s fingers are like tiny ballerinas against my skin. Outside, a Stellar&#8217;s Jay sings a quiet song. I grab Jessie&#8217;s hand and hold it against my face, soak in her warmth and her strength. Her aliveness.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI open my mouth to respond, when the room trembles. A fissure forms across the ceiling, revealing an impenetrable abyss.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Resuming cerebral scans,&#8221; a voice says. &#8220;We&#8217;ll try again tomorrow.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI blink. The fissure is gone. I look back at Jessie, draw her body closer.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Sure,&#8221; I say. &#8220;Let&#8217;s play hooky.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"others\"><\/a><H1 LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\"><br \/>\n<FONT FACE=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><FONT SIZE=6>Others<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy Amelie Daigle<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie is in the first grade when she finds it hiding in the rocks beside the koi pond. She has never seen one before. She reaches out to touch it with two fingers, the way she has been taught to pet animals at the zoo. It is slimy and soft, but not unpleasant to touch. It reminds her of a manta ray\u2019s back, or the way a live fish feels when it tries to jump out of your hands. Its limbs wave weakly in response to her touch. Watching them, Sophie feels sick and slightly afraid.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie goes inside to tell her mother what she has found. Her mother is eating a salad.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI found something in the garden,\u201d Sophie says.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHer mother drops her fork. \u201cWhat did it look like?\u201d she asks.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLike a jellyfish in the shape of a person. It felt like the manta rays at the aquarium.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou <em>touched<\/em> it.\u201d Her mother shudders and pushes her plate away. \u201cWhere did you find it?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBy the koi pond,\u201d Sophie says, wondering if there is going to be trouble. If this is like the time her bug collection fell over and worms and everything spilled out on the floor and her mother had to clean it all up.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie\u2019s mother walks to the back door and locks it. \u201cDon\u2019t play in the backyard any more today, Sweetheart,\u201d she says. \u201cStay inside until your father comes home.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie\u2019s father is a large man with sad eyes and broad shoulders. He sits in his favorite chair while his wife paces back and forth. \u201cThose things give me the creeps,\u201d Sophie\u2019s mother says. \u201cI can\u2019t sleep with it in the yard. I keep picturing the way it must look in the moonlight, like an aborted baby in a piscine eggsack. The color of something that was born in a cave and never saw light.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat do you expect me to do about it?\u201d Sophie\u2019s father asks.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI know better than to expect you to do anything.\u201d Sophie\u2019s mother crosses the room again. \u201cWhat really gets me, you know what really gets me is the eyes. Those black beady eyes. And the way their limbs just sort of flop around.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThey\u2019re harmless,\u201d Sophie\u2019s father says. \u201cEven if I could get rid of it, I wouldn\u2019t, Lisle. It isn\u2019t hurting anyone.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie\u2019s mother sighs. \u201cI can\u2019t think straight with that thing in the yard,\u201d she says.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie\u2019s father is an artist. He teaches at local high schools or wherever else he can find a temporary position. Any spare cash goes towards his paints and canvases, and in times when work is hard to find, he resorts to painting with leftover house paint from around the neighborhood, Kool-Aid powder mixed with water, Sophie\u2019s old dried-up watercolor sets, his wife\u2019s expired makeup. He experiments with crushed fruits and berries, jellies, jams, and fruit juices. His more organic creations line the backyard fence. Some of his concoctions grow mold over time. Some begin to smell. Over his wife\u2019s objections he allows his blueberry jam painting to be overrun by fire ants. \u201cAvoid that corner of the yard,\u201d he tells Sophie. \u201cThey\u2019ll stay where the jam is.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie\u2019s mother is appalled. \u201cIt\u2019s my yard,\u201d she says. \u201cIt\u2019s the yard my daughter plays in. Would you like it if Sophie tripped and fell onto an anthill?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSophie\u2019s a sentient being. She can avoid that corner of the yard.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI don\u2019t want those ants in my yard,\u201d Sophie\u2019s mother says irritably.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhere would you like them?\u201d Sophie\u2019s father asks.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNot in my yard!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThat night, Sophie can\u2019t sleep. She goes downstairs to get a drink of water. There is a pot boiling on the stove.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe next day, the anthill is smaller and smoother and soggier, and the ants are gone.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAt dinner Sophie\u2019s mother says that there have been more and more of them, and that no one knows why, or if they reproduce, or how they reproduce at all. They simply appear one day, she says, on a street corner or under a tree or in a body of water.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThis is happening all over the world,\u201d she says \u201cfor no discernable reason. It\u2019s like a plague of locusts or something. It\u2019s created an entire industry of confused scientists.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie has seen three of them in her neighborhood, and one when she went to the grocery store with her mother, and one when her family went downtown for Sunday brunch. When her mother turns on the news, or leaves a newspaper lying around, she always looks for pictures of others.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey are limpid, floppy, and pale. They have small, dark eyes, and something that looks like it could be a face if it tried harder. But Sophie\u2019s mother says that isn\u2019t the worst part.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThe worst part,\u201d Sophie\u2019s mother says, \u201cis that they behave in ways that we can\u2019t explain with our current science. Some of them just lie there like blobs, and then there are others with these weird characteristics.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI read about one they found on the beach in Florida,\u201d Sophie\u2019s father says, \u201cthat appears when the tide goes out, but when the tide comes in and the water covers it, it\u2019s completely invisible.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThere\u2019s that,\u201d Sophie\u2019s mother says. \u201cThey\u2019ve found one near Madrid that grew to completely encase a tree. So there\u2019s a tree in Madrid that\u2019s covered with that filmy flesh, you know what they\u2019re like. And one actually appeared near campus the other day, so we had it transported to the lab for experimentation. It fluttered about in the wind as if it were nothing, but when they lifted it, it was heavier than lead.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cKim, she\u2019s in the physics department, she\u2019s going out of her mind,\u201d she says. \u201cThere\u2019s no way to account for the weight discrepancy. We\u2019re thinking of performing a vivisection.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDon\u2019t you hate looking at them?\u201d Sophie\u2019s father asks. \u201cWhy would you want to cut one open?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s important to know how they work,\u201d her mother explains. \u201cEither the universe is changing, or these things don\u2019t belong in it. I suspect the latter.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt seems cruel to me,\u201d her father says. \u201cTo cut something open while it\u2019s alive.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIf you can call them alive,\u201d Sophie\u2019s mother says. She shudders.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOne appears on the blacktop at Sophie\u2019s middle school. This one is ambulatory, which is new and disturbing. It is vaguely humanoid, but skeletal and distorted, all ribs and no skin. And dark, glistening dark, like an oil slick.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie\u2019s friend Brian claims a lunch table by the window so that he can watch the Pest Unit operate. Sophie isn\u2019t sure she wants to watch the Pest Unit, especially while she is eating, but she wants to watch Brian watch the Pest Unit. When Brian is excited by something, the blood drains from his face and his eyes are striking.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt is ambling purposelessly around one of the basketball hoops. \u201cLook at how it moves,\u201d Brian breathes. \u201cIt\u2019s like one of those wooden snakes with the notches in, you know. It kind of\u2026 slinks forward, look, it\u2019s like it leads with its abdomen\u2014can you call that an abdomen?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMy mom uses terms from insect anatomy,\u201d Sophie says, hoping this comment is useful. \u201cThe abdomen, and the thorax.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the sense in that?\u201d Brian asks, amused. \u201cInsect bodies have defined segments. I can\u2019t even tell what this guy\u2019s skeletal structure is trying to do. It\u2019s just ribs all the way down. What do you think it feels like?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie winces a bit, and regrets it immediately. \u201cI touched one once,\u201d she says. \u201cIt felt sort of like a fish, but without scales. Just the slipperiness of a fish in your hands.\u201d Sophie looks down at her sandwich, tuna on white bread. It looks pale and cold. She takes a bite.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019ve touched plenty,\u201d Brian says. \u201cBut they\u2019re not usually black like that. They don\u2019t usually look so boney. Do you think it feels like bone?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d Sophie says. The Pest Unit is fanning out in a circle. The principal and a few staff members stand well back from the scene in a tense cluster. The object of this intense scrutiny seems entirely unaware that anything unusual is happening. It continues its patternless ambling, always around the central point of the basketball hoop.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat do you think they have eyes for?\u201d Brian asks. \u201cIt\u2019s like they can\u2019t see anything. I\u2019ve clapped my hands in front of their eyes\u2014nothing. No reaction. But they never walk into anything, either.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s not like they can\u2019t see anything,\u201d Sophie says. \u201cIt\u2019s like they see you and they don\u2019t care.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrian smiles, and Sophie feels filled with flushed buzzing. \u201cYou know, I hadn\u2019t thought of that, Soph,\u201d he says, sounding slightly awed. \u201cThey\u2019re looking at you, perceiving you, but they\u2019re entirely indifferent.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOne of the men around the perimeter of the circle takes out a metal pole. He prods the thing, and it slinks away from the stimulus towards the direction of the schoolyard gate.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cEven a pigeon or a squirrel or something,\u201d Brian says, \u201cif you reach out to touch it, it\u2019ll move away. Everything that isn\u2019t domesticated lives in fear of us. Most species don\u2019t want to be anywhere near us. If humans infiltrate an area, they\u2019ll leave.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSubject to continual prodding, the thing slinks a good eight feet or so from the basketball hoop. Then it blinks out of existence. Instantaneously it is standing directly underneath the basketball hoop. Again it slinks forward in its ambling way, unconcerned that it has just violated the laws of physics. Sophie can\u2019t hear the members of the Pest Unit through the window, but she can tell that they are cursing.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI don\u2019t think they\u2019ll be able to move it,\u201d Sophie says.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOne of the Pest Unit women walks over to the principal. The man with the pole continues to poke at the thing, and it ambles forward again until it crosses its invisible line and is transported back to its point of origin beneath the basketball hoop.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDo you think they\u2019ll kill it?\u201d Brian asks. His eyes are blazing. Sophie doesn\u2019t know what answer he is hoping for, and her hands tremble with desire and confusion.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMy mom says they don\u2019t know how to kill them,\u201d Sophie says, \u201cyet. People are working on it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYour mom is, you mean?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie glances through the window at the unfamiliar skeletal structure slinking forward grotesquely at each prod of the pole.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah. Her lab is.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrian leans forward. \u201cShe\u2019s got test subjects?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d Sophie says. \u201cShe doesn\u2019t talk about work much.\u201d Sophie takes another bite out of her sandwich.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat does she mean, they don\u2019t know how to kill them? What happens if you stab them, or shoot them?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cShe says it leaves a hole,\u201d Sophie says. \u201cBut they heal very fast.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell, what if you cut them up into little pieces and scatter them all over, what happens then? Do all the little pieces keep moving? Do they try to find each other and connect back up?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI don\u2019t know, Brian,\u201d Sophie pleads. \u201cI\u2019m trying to eat.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSorry,\u201d Brian says. His eyes wander back to the window, where the thing is being prodded in the opposite direction as before. \u201cI guess they\u2019re trying to gauge the circumference of its territory,\u201d he says.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie puts the sandwich back in its plastic container. She decides to focus on the Cheetos instead. They are crunchy and dry and don\u2019t look like they\u2019ve ever been alive.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThey regenerate like starfish,\u201d Sophie\u2019s mother explains, \u201cbut it\u2019s not really like starfish at all.\u201d She carves a piece of roast lamb and places it on Brian\u2019s plate. \u201cThey\u2019re not very organized\u2014they don\u2019t have a skeleton or layers of fat or skin. The material they\u2019re made of varies, but there\u2019s no pattern to it\u2014a bony, skeletal material might coat one appendage, for instance. And if you cut them open, you\u2019re as likely to find soft, pliable tissue as you are anything resembling a skeleton.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDoes that hold for the ambulatory ones as well?\u201d Brian asks.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThe ambulatories are more structured, but we don\u2019t understand how the skeletons they have support walking upright. That being said, we haven\u2019t had a very good chance to examine one. They\u2019re difficult to examine because they won\u2019t stop moving, and there\u2019s no way to sedate them.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cFor someone who dislikes these creatures so intensely,\u201d Sophie\u2019s father says, \u201cyou do seem to enjoy talking about them.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThis is my work, Viktor,\u201d Sophie\u2019s mother says with a dangerous laugh. \u201cIf you talked to a detective I\u2019m sure you\u2019d hear all about the criminal mind. That doesn\u2019t mean that detectives like criminals.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThey must like something about them, or they wouldn\u2019t have gone into that line of work,\u201d Sophie\u2019s father says.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI sort of like them,\u201d Brian says. \u201cThe creatures, I mean. They\u2019re biologically unprecedented. You don\u2019t find that just a little exciting, Ms. Engel?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI think they\u2019re abhorrent,\u201d Sophie\u2019s mother says. \u201cBut I\u2019ll give them this much\u2014they\u2019ve exploded the field of biology. Not to mention physics.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie\u2019s mother talks about the structure of the creatures, the instability of their particles, the ratio of oxygen, carbon, and heavy metal particles in comparison to ordinary carbon-based life. Sophie begins to construct a tower of peas using her fork. It isn\u2019t until her father stands up and leaves the room that Sophie tunes in to the conversation.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe\u2019ve found that anything acidic or corrosive will affect them,\u201d her mother is saying, \u201cbut their bodies rebuild at almost the same rate as they\u2019re dissolved. They heal at a speed that is quite literally unbelievable\u2014it doesn\u2019t look like anything we\u2019ve seen before. But we\u2019ve had some progress with nanoparticles, particularly reactive oxygen compounds, injected directly into the organism\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cExcuse me,\u201d Sophie says. \u201cI think I\u2019m finished eating.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe finds her father in the backyard, his easel set up beside the koi pond. He has outlined the shape of the creature in translucent pink-white against the blue-green water and cool grey rocks, and he is dappling the creature and the water with flecks of light. Sophie looks at the painting, then she looks at the being again, startled.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s kind of beautiful,\u201d she says uncertainly.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt is,\u201d her father says. \u201cBut it\u2019s not beautiful enough.\u201d He mixes more gold into his paint. Sophie stands and watches.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrian and Sophie are walking home from high school when Brian says, \u201cLook, Soph.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie looks. She sees one nestled in the grass, naked and pink, like a baby animal.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI bet it would fit in my backpack,\u201d Brian says. He moves towards it, brimming with scientific curiosity. He prods it with the toe of his shoe. \u201cIf you tear a hole in them, they just grow back,\u201d Brian says. \u201cSo but what if you distort them, like, do they just snap back into place, like a rubber band?  Or do they kind of\u2026 slowly reform.\u201d He lifts his foot. Sophie\u2019s stomach drops.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMy mother would know,\u201d Sophie says desperately. \u201cBrian you don\u2019t have to, my mother already knows that, we can just ask her. I bet she\u2019s at home right now.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYour mother doesn\u2019t come home until six,\u201d Brian says distractedly. His foot is slowly lowering onto the creature\u2019s head.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhat there is of a head. Oh Sophie hates those things, she hates the way their limbs wave helplessly like something underwater, like a sea slug or a kelp plant drifting in a too-strong current.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrian\u2019s foot is lowering onto its head, and it is squashing, squashing it, and Brian\u2019s face is tense with cruel concentration, measuring the sensation of the pressure exactly. <em>Brian, stop.<\/em> Sophie\u2019s lips move. She has no voice. She is voiceless in the face of its appalling, distorted head that slowly gives way to Brian\u2019s foot. Its distended pancake of a head, with only one eye visible, the other on the other side of the disk, fishlike. Its black, beady, unchanging eye and its waving limbs.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrian swivels his foot. \u201cGeez, these things are malleable,\u201d Brian says. \u201cAre they all like this?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe lifts his foot. The head does not snap into place. For one horrible moment, Sophie fears that it will stay that way forever. But it billows out again, an object unrestrained by gravity or physics, lazily deciding to retain its original shape.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThey\u2019re regenerative,\u201d Brian says. \u201cSo if you tear off a limb, another will grow back, yeah? Like a starfish, but faster.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI have to get home, Brian,\u201d Sophie says.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrian kneels down on the grass.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie walks away as quickly as she can.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019ve done it,\u201d Sophie\u2019s mother says. Her cheeks are flushed and she is breathless, as though she has been running. She\u2019s forgotten to take off her safety goggles.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat have you done?\u201d Sophie\u2019s father asks. He sounds tired.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou forgot to take off your safety goggles,\u201d Sophie says.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh!\u201d Her mother laughs and hangs her goggles on the coatrack. \u201cWe found a way to get rid of them today. We had been applying ROS in concentrated doses, and we had some positive results from that, but today we discovered that we can induce endogenous production! Their own overactive regenerative abilities can be harnessed to produce poison. It grows in them like cancer.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cROS,\u201d Sophie\u2019s father says. \u201cWhat\u2019s ROS? An insecticide?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s a reactive molecule that\u2019s present in all forms of life, but in excess it\u2019s incredibly damaging. And if an externally applied liquid can induce endogenous production of ROS, exclusively in the type of organism being targeted\u2014this has wider applications than the specific pestilence we\u2019re working with now. We\u2019ve already started negotiations with a few pesticide companies, and this is going to be an incredibly lucrative enterprise. You know they still have that ambulatory on the middle school blacktop fenced off? And that\u2019s just in our neighborhood, this is happening all over the world\u2026 imagine what the government of New York will pay to rid itself of the ambulatory in Times Square!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere is silence for a moment. Then Sophie\u2019s father says: \u201cI\u2019ve made spaghetti.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThroughout dinner, Sophie\u2019s mother continues to talk about the future\u2014we will be able to vacation this year, she says, and not just Disney World, either. \u201cWe\u2019ll go to Europe! Venice, Florence, Milan. Didn\u2019t you tell me you wanted to see Venice before you died, Viktor, and I\u2019ve done it!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLisle,\u201d Sophie\u2019s father says. \u201cDo you remember the day we had a picnic by the river?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes,\u201d Sophie\u2019s mother says, smiling. \u201cWe\u2019d been dating for six months or something like that. I remember.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou brought <em>Silent Spring<\/em>,\u201d Sophie\u2019s father says. \u201cYou read passages out loud while we watched the river boats. You loved Rachel Carson.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI do love Rachel Carson,\u201d Sophie\u2019s mother says. She isn\u2019t smiling anymore.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat do you think Rachel would say about all of this, Lisle?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat do I know about what Rachel Carson would have to say about creatures who don\u2019t obey the laws of physics, or chemistry\u2014who don\u2019t even seem to belong in this dimension,\u201d Sophie\u2019s mother says. \u201cI have absolutely no idea what Rachel Carson would think about that, because she didn\u2019t live in that world. We do.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie begins to eat her spaghetti as quickly as possible.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou used to want to save the world,\u201d Sophie\u2019s father says.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou used to want to be a famous and successful artist,\u201d Sophie\u2019s mother snaps, \u201cand look how that turned out. Now I would love nothing more than to go save the rainforest, and when you start earning a salary that will put our daughter through college, that\u2019s exactly what I\u2019ll do. In the meantime, however, I have just participated in an earthshattering scientific breakthrough, and I come home, and I expect you to be happy for me at least this once, at least tonight\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s blood money, Lisle,\u201d Sophie\u2019s father says, and Sophie\u2019s mother laughs shrilly.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBlood money?\u201d she says. \u201cThere\u2019s as much blood in those things as you\u2019d get out of a rock. What blood?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019ve finished my spaghetti,\u201d Sophie says. She puts her plate in the sink and goes to her bedroom and shuts the door.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNow when Sophie walks home from school with Brian she keeps her hands in her pockets and her eyes on the ground. Brian kicks a stone with his foot, catches up to it, kicks it again. The stone doesn\u2019t roll straight ahead consistently, so Brian zigzags from one side of the sidewalk to the other. Sophie is walking behind him in a straight line, thinking, when Brian kicks the stone into the grass, wheels around, and looks Sophie in the eyes with an intensity that startles her.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHey, Soph.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah?\u201d Sophie says, confused.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cCan I try something?\u201d Brian says. \u201cLike an experiment.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe kisses her.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie tries to pay attention to the sensation of his lips, tries to focus on their texture\u2014soft, warm, wet, pleasantly strange\u2014to the exclusion of all else. But she can hear Brian\u2019s mind working, evaluating, measuring the kiss and adjusting the movement of his mouth. With her eyes closed, she can see the look of intense concentration on his face\u2014the same concentration with which he had lowered his sneaker\u2014\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrian pulls back. \u201cAre you crying?\u201d he asks.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie lifts a hand to her eye. It feels wet.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGeez, Soph,\u201d Brian says. \u201cWhat am I, Georgie Porgie?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie hiccups a sad, wet laugh, and then she begins to sob uncontrollably.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAlright, alright,\u201d Brian says, alarmed. \u201cSorry, Soph, I thought you\u2019d like it. I thought you\u2019d be into it\u2014geez, Soph, what the hell is wrong?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie tries to speak between sobs. \u201cYou\u2014can be so nice\u2014Brian\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell, that\u2019s nothing to cry about,\u201d Brian says, bemused.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThings\u2014could be so\u2014good\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut I guess they\u2019re not,\u201d Brian says. He puts an arm around Sophie. He is warm, and she leans in towards the comfort. \u201cIt\u2019s alright, Soph,\u201d he says soothingly. \u201cFailed experiment. You\u2019re practically a sister to me, anyway.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie hiccups, confused and miserable.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAt night, Sophie can\u2019t sleep. She goes downstairs to get a drink of water. As she turns out the light, she looks out the window into the backyard. Her mother is kneeling beside the koi pond.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhere is it?\u201d Sophie\u2019s father asks.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie begins to push her meatball around with her fork, wondering how long she has to pretend to eat before she can excuse herself.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat happened to it?\u201d her father says.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI got rid of it,\u201d her mother says. \u201cWhy? Did you need it for something?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt might have needed itself for something,\u201d her father says in a voice as calm as a dormant volcano.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cEx\u2014\u201d Sophie begins.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThose things don\u2019t need anything,\u201d her mother says. \u201cNot food, not oxygen. They\u2019re not alive in the sense that we understand the word. You\u2019re wasting your sympathy.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMy sympathy,\u201d her father says.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes,\u201d her mother says, \u201cYour sympathy for those things, which are now more important to you than your wife, your child? Where are your priorities?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cExcuse\u2014\u201d Sophie attempts.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWho\u2019s making me choose? When did I say that you were less\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhen is the last time you\u2019ve asked me how work is going, Viktor, when is the last time you showed a shred of concern for me\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhy are we having this conversation at dinner,\u201d Sophie says helplessly, and both of her parents fall silent. Their eyes lower towards their plates.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d her mother says curtly.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cExcuse me,\u201d her father says. He opens the screen door and goes outside to the backyard.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie and her mother finish their spaghetti in silence.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe next day, out of some morbid fascination or misguided sense of nostalgia, Sophie goes outside in the backyard to look at the koi pond. The thing is gone. But she finds, in its place, a painting.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie\u2019s mother\u2019s company sells the ROS-inducing compound, ReOx Active, to a pesticide company. Large-scale manufacturers of ReOx Active spring up overnight, creating sprays and dusts for the purposes of pest-termination. Sophie knows that this is happening; she sees it on the news, on the new television that her father refuses to watch. She sees them take down the barriers in Times Square that marked the territory of an ambulatory. She thinks about leaving the room when her mother turns on the elimination of the one on Venice Beach, but she stays, and she watches its pale body that remains rooted in the same place on the surface of the water, regardless of the motion of the waves, dissolve into the foam. They shrivel and shrink like salted slugs. Each one dies surrounded by hostile spectators who cheer for the victory of humanity, or who silently observe and record the process. Every time Sophie\u2019s mother turns on the news, another is being destroyed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBrian is agitated. \u201cWe\u2019re destroying them, and we don\u2019t even know how they work! There are experiments left to be performed. We don\u2019t understand their regeneration\u2014what if we could harness that? These beings can <em>teleport<\/em>, Soph, and we\u2019re killing them off haphazardly!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie doesn\u2019t talk to Brian much anymore, and when she does, she feels a vague, dull ache where something wonderful used to be.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey are disappearing around her city, as well. The ambulatory on the middle school blacktop is gone, as are the two who lived in the hollows of oak trees she passes on her way to school. The scaly flounder-like one that flops in the grass in the Trinhs\u2019 front yard. An intersection that had been closed off due to a thing that was tough enough to total cars is now open for the first time in years. And the bank of the river seems empty without the dozen bizarre creatures that had lain limply among the rocks.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie\u2019s walk to school becomes marked by places where they had been. Bare patches of grass, moldy spots on trees. She counts them off, without wanting to or trying to\u2014the floppy, pale one who peered impassively out of the hollow of the oak a block from her house. The pinkish, opalescent one that always seemed to hold rainbows within its nearly translucent flesh. The tiny one that hid in the azalea bush in front of the Stampleys\u2019 house and shimmered in and out of existence, wavering between visible and invisible. Every day, she silently marks each one missing, and the list only grows longer as even the most well-hidden are discovered by professional exterminators.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOne day, Sophie walks past the Trinhs\u2019 yard and realizes that the empty patch of grass is inhabited once more. Standing in the grass is a painting. Sophie blinks and approaches the canvas.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt is a painting of a being, smooth and radiant white, texturally distinct from the rough, green grass that surrounds it, both in the painting and outside of it. Its black, perfectly round eye is echoed in a second round shape\u2014the reflection of the sun, gloriously refracted through the scales of an uncomfortably beautiful rendition of something exterminated.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie kneels in the grass and looks. The sun passes overhead.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe paintings appear more rapidly than the beings had vanished. The neighborhood is spotted with paintings propped up like tombstones, and when one is removed or thrown away\u2014as they often are\u2014another rises to take its place.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie moves through school and through her neighborhood feeling that the paintings are always being discussed just out of earshot, that conversations are hushed and halted when she enters the room. She finds herself missing Brian\u2019s insulting directness. Brian would not be afraid to tell Sophie what people are saying about her father. But Brian now spends his days in the school\u2019s chemistry lab with a group of boys who are equally fond of chemicals and explosions. Sophie feels no desire to seek out his company. So she continues to drift through halls and down streets, imagining herself the eye in a hurricane of conversation.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAt school the silence is permeable, a thing that can be moved through. At home, it sits in the center of the table, and dinners are tense and heavy, punctuated by such phrases as \u201cPlease pass the potatoes,\u201d \u201cSchool was fine, thank you,\u201d and \u201cI\u2019m finished eating, excuse me.\u201d Sophie\u2019s father\u2019s face is lean; his eyes are bright and manic. After dinner, Sophie\u2019s mother retires to her office, pointedly ignoring Sophie\u2019s father\u2019s return to the backyard, and Sophie goes to her bedroom to be told by textbooks that chemicals break molecules apart.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie always tries to fall asleep before midnight, before the silence breaks and she is forced to lie with a pillow pressed over her head hearing snatches of conversations she isn\u2019t meant to, shouldn\u2019t have to hear. One night among others, her mother\u2019s melodic voice rises to a sharp metallic octave that she never uses when talking to Sophie, and her father\u2019s softer yet more penetrating voice pierces the walls of Sophie\u2019s bedroom, accusations coming to her in fragments, like barely-remembered nightmares:\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u2014Lisle, please. It isn\u2019t right and I know you know, Lisle.\u2014\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u2014I don\u2019t see you doing anything to help, I\u2019m the one working every day to keep this family, and you never even, and it\u2019s always me who\u2014\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u2014This isn\u2019t the woman I married. The woman I married would never, ambition tempered with kindness, you always used to say\u2014\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u2014I\u2019m not a work of art, I\u2019m a person, I\u2019m a human being and I change\u2014\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u2014When you said you wanted to save the world, I should have asked what you were going to save it from\u2014\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd finally her father\u2019s voice, rising to a desperate break:\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u2014I don\u2019t care about the blasted creatures! It\u2019s you, Lisle, it\u2019s you, it\u2019s what they\u2019re doing to you\u2026\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn the morning, the house smells like blueberry pancakes. <em>Everything\u2019s alright then,<\/em> Sophie thinks with relief.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<em>They\u2019ve made breakfast, and everything\u2019s going to be fine.<\/em> She whistles optimistically as she slides into yesterday\u2019s jeans, and she bounds downstairs two steps at a time, fully prepared to do her part in pretending that nothing is wrong. Her mother is at the stove flipping a pancake.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGood morning!\u201d Sophie says brightly, in a voice that means <em>last night never happened.<\/em>\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie\u2019s mother turns. Her eyes are red and sleepless. She is wearing yesterday\u2019s clothes. \u201cGood morning,\u201d she says, and she smiles. She gestures towards the counter, where Sophie sees a stack of half a dozen blueberry pancakes, a dozen strawberry waffles, two large plates of cinnamon swirl french toast, and fresh-baked raisin bread artfully arranged among assorted seasonal fruits.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat\u2019s all the food for?\u201d Sophie asks apprehensively.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI couldn\u2019t sleep,\u201d her mother says, turning her attention back to the stove. Her shoulders shake. \u201cGrab a plate, darling.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMom?\u201d Sophie steps forward. \u201cIs everything okay? Where\u2019s\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt was all made this morning,\u201d her mother says in a small and trembling voice. \u201cIf any of it is cold you can\u2014\u201d She breaks off with a sob. Sophie\u2019s hands rise to cover her ears. Guiltily, she lowers them again.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie grabs a plate from the dishwasher and loads it with some of everything. She sits at the table and begins to shovel her mother\u2019s cooking into her mouth. She eats it slowly. Methodically.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie excuses herself as soon as she can. Her stomach curdles with the guilt of wanting to be away from her mother, but she cannot listen to one more broken, half-stifled cry.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAs she walks to school, Sophie wonders where her father has run to. If he has gone to stay with a friend, or another woman.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIf he is nearby, or if his car is still driving and will not stop until he is far away. Her ears still ring with the sound of her mother\u2019s sobbing. She tugs at them angrily.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOut of the corner of her eye, she notices that the lagoon is busier than usual. Far busier than usual. The lagoon is surrounded by dozens of people, many of them holding the orange hoses that spray ReOx Active in its liquid form.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLater, she will try to justify it to herself retroactively. She will make up reasons about her father and her mother, about her confusion and her rage, and every time she replays the scene in her mind the reasons will be different. She will never know why, when she passed the extermination on this day of all days, instead of walking away with her head down, she walked toward it.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMost of the exterminators and spectators are concentrated around one knob of the lagoon, an area of shallow, still water that is known to be a friendly habitat for tadpoles and ducks. Sophie remembers catching frogs on its banks as a child. It is a large knob, but not unmanageably so, and at its narrowest part one can cross it by means of a bridge, which holds its own fair share of exterminators as well as a smattering of children. The goal, then, will be to corner the creature in this particular section of the lagoon, between the bridge and the banks of the knob, thereby cutting off any avenue of escape.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie sits down beside the small children on the bridge. They are babbling and throwing small stones into the water, talking about the creatures they\u2019ve seen and how they watched them die. \u201cI saw one get shot in the chest,\u201d a boy tells his friend, \u201clike <em>blam-blam-blam!<\/em> He fell down like this.\u201d Sophie hears the boy groan dramatically and fall to his knees. She grins, and immediately hates herself for it.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe is distracted by the sound of a motor. A small boat approaches the knob, carrying several men with ReOx Active hoses spraying full-blast. \u201cWe\u2019ve got \u2018em!\u201d one of the men shouts. \u201cKeep your eyes on the water!\u201d The men are aiming their hoses so that the ReOx Active advances in a line. Presumably, the chemicals are pushing their prey towards the knob, and towards its certain death. But Sophie does not see what they are aiming at.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd then she does. It is only for a moment. It wavers into existence, pale blue and humanoid, and wavers out as seamlessly as ripples on water. \u201cYou see that?\u201d somebody yells, and the men on the boat redouble their efforts, in which they are joined by the men and women on the bridge.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSophie clenches her fists. Her nails press into her palms. She wishes that they would draw blood.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe glimpses it again, briefly. A waif of a being made from translucent jellyfish material, speckled lightly with what looks like scales. It drifts slowly away from the stream of ReOx Active. Sophie wonders if that is as fast as it can swim.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt is closer now. The men and women on the bank of the lagoon turn their hoses on and pump their poisons into the water. The creature is fully visible now; whether it was invisibility or camouflage that hid it before, it is no longer working. It drifts towards the center of the knob, as far as it can get from the hoses. Its limbs waver in the water like ripples, like a trick of the light. One limb is fully extended, reaching out for something. Sophie silently screams inside of her mouth.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen the second one appears, shimmering in and out of existence in the water, and reaches out to touch its companion, Sophie feels like she already knew. They reach for each other, wavering pitifully; they are falling into foam at the edges. Sophie clenches her fists tighter. The ReOx Active is clouding the water. The second being opens all of its limbs, wraps itself around the first one, shielding it from the cloud of poison. <em>You can\u2019t protect them from this,<\/em> Sophie wants to shout. <em>You idiot, you idiot, can\u2019t you see there\u2019s nothing you can do?<\/em>\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe little boy and his friends are shouting encouragement to the exterminators, shoving each other out of the way to try to get a better look at the water. One of the exterminators squints with cruel concentration, adjusting the aim of her ReOx hose.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nStop, Sophie thinks. Stop. <em>Stop.<\/em>\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe opens her mouth.<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"pixel\"><\/a><H1 LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\"><br \/>\n<FONT FACE=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><FONT SIZE=6>Pixel Heart<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy Will Gwaun<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTess is furious, screaming at me in those moments before the rental car goes off the road. It is on auto-drive but nonetheless I stare forward into the flickering silhouettes of the pines, my fingers knotted tight around the wheel.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe shouting reaches its crescendo a minute before the crash. \u201cJust tell me who the fuck you are, if you\u2019ve done something terrible, whatever, we can work through that, but tell me&#8211;\u201d her voice is pulled hard, a voice I only hear when the office calls her with some other-time-zone banking crisis in Tokyo, Berlin, Taipei, and she answers, sharp and hollowed of tenderness.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThis voice makes me tremble inside, a little boy who wants nothing more than to look down at his shoes and say sorry. I almost blurt it all out right there, the truth, imagining the lightness I\u2019d feel. The unburdening of all these fictions I have conjured for no reason other than that I can make people believe them.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut how weak, how vulnerable that position, naked of the smokescreens and labyrinths I clothe myself in. Instead I cobble an armor of silent, simmering anger and refuse to engage, having no idea how I will talk my way out of this.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI hack into her retinal display and watch it in the corner of my eye. She riffles back through images of us stored in her cloud cache; the rush of encounters our life has been. I see flickers of weekends in one city or another, half way between where she and I must be the following Monday. We are at dinner, or in the shade of palm tree, or holding hands on a snowy evening beneath a street light, trying to grasp our relationship together against the demands of our work.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe begins to delete them, one by one, our smiles, a tableau of warmth dissolving into so much binary. Unbearable to see, I snatch and secret them into an archive, though their safety offers no protection against the threat of weeping like a child.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe scrabbles, amateurishly, into the sprawl of social media, looking for traces of my identity though she knows I have little to nothing there. I explained that absence away four years back, when we first met, saying it was protection against identity theft, necessary for my work.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDid your parents really drown? Is that true? Is your job real?\u201d She slashes at the undergrowth of my fictions as if she will blunder into a clearing of truth. \u201cAll this shit at work and now\u2026 I need you to be\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHer voice almost waivers then but she wrenches it tight and suddenly she is doing something I did not expect. Something I\u2019m not sure I can protect myself against, here on the fly. Buried in an encrypted window she logs into the bank\u2019s employee net, bringing up a secure line to an anti-fraud application, a precursor of which I myself had a hand in testing. She is spitting my details into it, photos, dates, times, and it is trawling databases the public only dimly know exist.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI am panicking, scraping at the depths of my boxes of tricks for a way to foil her. And then the auto-drive clicks off and the wheel jerks in my hand and the car skids, thuds and we are spinning, floating, clattering into the darkness.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI wish that I could say that the lies were for a reason. That this is all some elaborate life I have had to lead out of fear of the mob or love for another woman. Anything. But there is nothing like that. There are only the games of a little boy who was nothing but a tiresome distraction from his mother\u2019s Xanax trance of television shows. A boy who once learnt he could amuse himself by seeing what he could get other people to believe. A habit that, instead of growing out of, he grew into. And it grew into him, like a cancer, too deep to be removed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn the hospital I sit by her bedside, feeling the pressure of tears, the urge to fucking break down and weep into the sheets. But as ever, nothing comes.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere&#8217;s a chance, I realize, that it was me, my hands that twisted the wheel and spun the car off the road. A good chance, because I had all my fake everything to lose and how often do these cars ever crash under their own control in conditions like that? If I could remember maybe I&#8217;d know if I\u2019d hacked the system, twisted the wheel, just to stop her searching any deeper, if I could remember. And that would mean I&#8217;ve hurt her and this has gone too far, this has to stop, no more lying.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI tell myself that as soon as she wakes I\u2019ll tell her the truth. But there is so little of me, with the lies all stripped away. No part of me that would interest her, that she would care for, that she would scream the name of and dig her nails into in the dead of night.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA doctor comes and lays a hand on my shoulder. She asks me if I have family nearby and I mutter something imaginary about an estranged brother up in the Yukon. She smiles supportively. \u201cI\u2019m afraid we have to run a procedure, on your partner.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI sit upright, sweat beading on my palms. \u201cThey told me there\u2019d be no need for surgery\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo, it\u2019s a condition of the insurance, of her employer. Shang Bank has a requirement that all executive staff are scanned and uploaded on a quarterly basis and immediately in&#8230; situations like this.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe pair who come and perform the scan are serious-looking men with white coats over their business suits. They are polite though the taller of the two watches me with a silent, predatory gaze I decline to meet. I have to leave the room though they let me watch through the glass as they place their machines around her.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI sit back in the chair and while they boot their devices I bring up my retinal and poke around on the edges of their security. This is the flip side of my habit; while I will lie for no reason, the presence of other people\u2019s secrets troubles me like an itch. This compulsion has served me well at times, has led me to the line of work I follow, has prepared the groundwork for the stories I can tell people, most of all to Tess.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut they are a bank and the security is tight. I can only observe the general motion of their software\u2019s functions. But when they begin the deletion of their local backup they use a shortcut protocol their analysts should have rooted out long ago, and I find I can mirror the pattern and read it off. Scan and copy until, hidden away in my implant, is Tess. The last scan they made of her, almost three months ago, back when the threads of my stories had only just begun to come unwound. I bury it beneath a mound of static, stand and leave as if this is too much for me to watch.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTess wakes two weeks later and tells me to leave. I move out of our apartment (two suitcases, we barely live there) and am in Denver for work the same night. I call her two, three times daily but get no reply.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe stolen scan of her, hidden in my cache, provokes me like some Pandora\u2019s Box to which I have no key. I don\u2019t have the sort of computing needed to run a scan of that definition. It can\u2019t be had without attracting attention from the authorities or spending beyond my means down in the recesses of the shadow web.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt takes me a week but I find what might be a solution. There\u2019s a job&#8211;a vast, unmanned telescope array gone on the blink somewhere out in the back of beyond, British Colombia. For no known reason the thing had locked down all its transmitters and \u2018crypted all its data for good measure. A couple of months of work they reckoned, coaxing its systems out of catatonia. And while the telescope was down that vast computer had nothing to do and nobody watching it. Nothing to do but bring Tess\u2019 scan to life.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe journey up there is a minor adventure, though greater than any other I\u2019ve had. A large plane and then a small one and another yet smaller.  The university department that manages the telescope had left me a battered jeep at the airstrip. I bounced for half a day along minor roads and woodland tracks, the forest vast and dense on every side.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLeaving the town my security \u2018ware noted the wash of a powerful scanner frisking the memory of my implant drive. It had the feel of a local PD, basic programming, and my \u2018ware is good, palms the scanner off with some generic, citizen-going-about-his-business materials.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAt the foot of the mountain where the telescope stands is a lake and beside it a low building where the staff lived before the telescope was automated. It has a terminal wired to the telescope&#8217;s computer and a wireless array I can access for miles around.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn the bedroom nearest the kitchen I make myself at home by throwing my bags down in the corner. I lie back on the bed and with a squirm of the eyeballs bring the retinals to full opacity. The web signal out here is almost dead but I can reach the wireless from the mainframe; the slumbering giant of the observatory\u2019s computer.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey\u2019ve called it Thoth, some academic in-joke I can\u2019t be bothered to decode. Thoth\u2019s voice is a deep baritone that informs me its systems are secured pending diagnostics.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI woo it with packets of code, awaken unused functions as yet untouched by whatever has infected it. And there with cunning, with sleight of binary hand, I load the copy of Tess into the observatory\u2019s mainframe and bring her into being.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThoth fashions the room from her memories of the scanning suite; the last place this scan of her remembers, a virtual hospital room lit with the flat glow of a fluorescent bulb. It builds this room in VR engine my paralyzed body now believes itself to be in. And there in the bed is a Tess who doesn\u2019t yet hate me, still thinks she knows me, my past and present still as real as the words I have described them with.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe lies on her side, the hospital gown slightly apart at her shoulders. Her body is fashioned from a snapshot that Thoth digs from that part of her mind that remembers such things, the company having had no use for a physical scan to embody her within. The appearance is a close simulacrum, though it differs in subtle ways.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHer back is denuded of detail. Her real body has freckles there, constellations I have traced with my finger. But she does not remember them and so they have not made the cut. Other subtleties, a sharpness of her collar bone I do not recognize, the childhood dog bite scar just at the hairline, long-since faded to almost invisible, now stands red against the skin. I wonder what differences an observer might see in my own represented body?\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI draw a breath, ready, to say what? This moment I have imagined, the undoing of all the threads of BS I\u2019ve wasted so much energy on weaving. To start at the beginning, with those lies she has never heard, that would contradict the ones she knows. The stories the school counsellor gobbled whole; stories that bought me passage from that darkened, cigarette reeking room to a new family. Tell her of the jobs I\u2019ve left, having failed to die of the terminal disease I\u2019d told my colleagues of\u2026\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u2026and the copy of Tess rolls onto her back and looks up at me, the eyes a true copy, pure green, and I feel a twinge of something. Something about doing this is wrong. This room unreal, my body not here at all, a simulation Thoth has summoned for her, and hers falsified as well. It would sully everything, to start from here, for the foundation of this confession to be itself untrue.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd so I have Thoth stop this program and drag me back to my body. I dress in the outdoor clothes I have bought, walk the circumference of the lake, looking down into the waters at the reflection of the mountain and pondering the issue of Tess. It is early March and the world is a blandness of brown grass, cloud, clingings of snow. My \u2018ware pings, as if to alert me of another scan coming down out of nowhere, but when I try to trace it it is gone, a ghost, a false reading.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt takes a month of work to conjure a truer approach. I slide into the bed beside her and count the freckles between her shoulders. She wakes and wriggles to my embrace, then tightens. &#8220;Jake?&#8221; she says.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Shh, shh, relax, it&#8217;s OK,&#8221; I whisper in her ear.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Jake where are we?&#8221; she asks, an edge of urgency in her voice.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;It&#8217;s OK, you were in an accident, you\u2019ve been unconscious, but don\u2019t worry, you&#8217;re fine now.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;But this\u2026 this isn&#8217;t a hospital,&#8221; she says.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd it isn\u2019t, it\u2019s the bedroom in the staff building. Not some simulacrum, at least for the most part. What she sees is there in real time, the product of a drone that hovers on hummingbird wings, poised where her face would be, turning its cameras this way and that, mimicking the movement of her eyes according to the volition of Tess\u2019 copy.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI do not see this, of course, I see Tess, her head turning this way and that. I see a perfect image of her, of the blanket lain over her, beamed into my retinals by Thoth, ever watching through a dozen other drones that hover invisibly around us.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt is a complex feat, but not one I have built from scratch. The military (who else) have developed this tech beyond the limits of anything I could build. They learnt that to simulate a battlefield it takes far less computing to have the field already and impose images of the battle onto it than to simulate the world entirely. So I have borrowed their work and the civilian versions of it.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI move then in the real world, everything I see is real but for Tess and the things she touches. The blanket that lies over Tess is not there, cannot be, for there is no body there to support it. But Thoth recreates it for us faithfully, replicates the weight and texture and warmth of it. Through my implants it resonates these sensations into my nerves, superimposing them over the real world my unaided senses bring me.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt is a complex game. I have agreed with Thoth that all windows will seem sealed shut and all the doors within the building will stay open. Should we try to close them Thoth will simulate this experience for us, but stay my body\u2019s hand. It would do no good for Tess, who has no real body, to appear to open a door and for my real body to blunder into it, seeing the open doorway Thoth has simulated for us.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThoth does not render every tiny detail, it needs only make suggestions and the brain leaps in and fills the gaps itself. I can see no difference.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut nevertheless it is complicated. In those first days, when Tess slept I watched the drones recordings of the moments we&#8217;d been together. Ran the camera feed of me talking to no one beside the feed from retinals where Tess stood looking out the kitchen window. I watched her pick up a bowl I had been eating from and place it in the sink. In the moment, I saw just as she saw. But she has no physical capacity to touch the real objects in the world.  In the drone&#8217;s recording the real bowl remained where it was, on the table, though the two of us saw only empty space. And later, in the recording, I saw I knocked it from the table though Thoth had suppressed the sound of shattering, suppressed even, the crunch of the fragments beneath my feet.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt is a deception, that much I will admit, but it is truer than to fake her world in its entirety. And now the stage is set I will have no more say in how this world is than she. It is as it would be if she were here in body and in that sense at least it is true and so a better climate for confessions of the truth.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;No,&#8221; I said at last, and then the words slipped out like a breath held too long. &#8220;This isn&#8217;t the hospital. You&#8217;re nearly better now. You woke up a few times, but whenever you saw a stranger you started to panic\u2026 they wanted you away from other people, just while things stabilize.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThat feeling as I spoke, heart stuttering, waiting for the moment when she would give me that look of knowing I was lying.  But this was the old version of her, from before the time when all the threads began to unravel. It trusted me so completely and I wanted so much to honor that trust, to protect her from anything that might hurt her.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd how could we begin by my telling her she isn\u2019t real but a copy that I have stolen? There would be nothing after that, no listening. Instead I will start at the beginning, start small, rebuild these basic facts with truth until she is ready to know why I have made this place for us.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTess hardly questions why we are here, the nature of her injury, though even I can see that the story is dubious. She never suggests any suspicion that her last memory is of the anesthetist at the hospital where the scan took place.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe seems relieved almost, to be here. A heaviness seems to have slid from her, a watchfulness which I had not noticed but see only now in its absence. She looks out onto the lake and asks if we can go for a walk.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn the month between bringing her to life in the simulation of the hospital room, and her coming awake here, in the real world, the days have warmed and lengthened. The snow melts and the forest ticks with the dripping of water. We pass a month in enjoying it, setting out in the gold light of morning, the sun raising phantoms of steam from the damp moss cloaks of boulders.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWe see no one, hardly a sign of humans having passed this way in years. Only once, the silhouettes of two figures, high up on the skyline by the observatory, there for a moment and then gone.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt is good for us. I feel the hunch of my back unknot, the muscles in our bodies growing toned. In the mornings we walk or take the bicycles we have dug out from the cellar. We explore the gullies and the heights, finding caves and the ruins of old homesteads swallowed in the undergrowth. And Thoth imagines for us her every footprint in the wet earth, every cloud of her breath, the letters she writes with a fingertip in the frost on a barkless tree branch.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWe come home, eat wholesome meals. We make love, not as we once did, rushed and urgent with the need of days apart, but with gentleness, care. Afterwards, through the afternoons, I work and Tess sleeps.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI feel like I haven\u2019t slept in a year,\u201d she says. \u201cAll this time, at work, it\u2019s been so horrible.\u201d And she tells me how files have been leaked from somewhere in her department, vital files relating to fortunes that cannot bear to have their secrets exposed. Constant suspicion, late nights in the office under the scrutiny of the investigators. \u201cIt just went on, everyone watching everyone. All these cross examinations until I realized the way I was remembering things, or the way they made remember, it wasn&#8217;t&#8230; consistent, you know? Couldn&#8217;t have happened the way I thought it did. You start to wonder if maybe you had done the things they\u2019re asking about. I remember, just before the accident, sitting at my desk, looking out through the window and wishing I could just step through it, fall into the street and for it all to be done with. I never imagined&#8230; I&#8217;m not someone who thinks like that, you know?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWe are sitting by the lake when she says it, the air still with the cold of morning, a layer of mist balanced above the water. I feel light, like air, listening to her saying that. I have rescued her, done what is right. I would have told her then, told her everything, but there is this feeling, this strange sense that she is on the brink of telling me something, something vital that I must hear before I reveal my own secrets.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe first glitch comes early in April. I have been fastidious in many things, but there is a day when the weather is setting in and we hurry out, wanting to at least make a circuit of the lake before the rain traps us indoors. I do not pay attention to the pushing of chairs back under the breakfast table. Tess does hers, which has never, in reality, been moved, but does mine as well, and as she turns to leave the kitchen I stumble across the chair which still sits in my path, cloaked by the transparency Thoth has made for it.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThoth tries to deceive me, to feed sensations into my implant that tell me I&#8217;m standing, but it is too much, too paradoxical for my nerves to handle and the chair flickers, leaps from the place it has taken out onto the floor.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAfter our walk Tess sleeps and I conference with Thoth, agree how these problems might be avoided. I do not want to be shown things that Tess cannot see, it is against the spirit of what I am trying to do here. Thoth suggests a robot, some domestic model big in Korea that could arrange things when we are out. But I don&#8217;t like the thought of it, stupid as it sounds, some silent figure creeping among our things.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nInstead we determine a solution, imperfect but good enough. Thoth will keep track of everything Tess touches, its real place and where it comes to rest when she has moved it. When we sleep Thoth is to take my body in its slumber and without waking it, make it rise and walk through our rooms gathering those things that she has touched but not touched and moving them, fill or empty them, dirty or clean them, so that the world in its physical form, hidden from us, is made to correspond to ours.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSpring warms, my heart opens. I tell Tess, trembling as I say it, that I would imagine living somewhere like this forever, would she? Would she imagine children one day? She smiles, closes her eyes and turns her face up into the sun. Yes, she could imagine it.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe work, thank God, will last longer than planned. I cannot, and will not imagine what I will do when it is done. The transmitter and the controls of the observatory still will not speak to Thoth, the problem seeming to have mutated in response to the controls I have tried to place on it. There will be no sudden solving of this, only a steady war of attrition.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI have not yet done what I have promised myself I would, no confession yet but then also no more lies. I have never been so long without my mouth conjuring some story, so that is something, at least.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWith the lake thawed we decide to row the small boat out across it. We slide over the trembling reflection of the mountain and watch the fish nuzzle up from the depths to investigate our trailing fingers. We return to our bed and when Tess sleeps Thoth wakes me on the shore, wet through and shivering. Tess and I had carried that boat together but in the world without Tess the boat was too heavy for me alone. In that world the boat fell from the rack and lay there while my body walked alone, miming the weight of it. Thoth imagined it for us, imagined us floating out on the water while my body waded into the lake and stood there, waiting for my imagined body to float back into its proximity when it waded back onto the shore and collapsed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI am almost hypothermic when I get back inside, having staggered and then crawled up those steps. I huddle beneath the shower, shuddering, sluicing myself in hot water.  In the depths of my implanted drive there is a quiet havoc, files being opened and shifting beyond my reach, but it ceases as the shivering recedes and I crawl then into the bed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt takes me all day to recover. I lie there as Tess cooks me imaginary soup with a smell that makes my stomach roar.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThoth wakes me with the howl of an alarm. Tess is perched at the edge of the bed, weeping, her skin flickering with pixels.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDid you know?\u201d She drives that look into me and I give the game away before I can think to hide it. She twists her eyes shut, the skin trembling beneath the jump of the pixels. \u201cAm I dead? How? How long ago? When were you going to tell me?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThis is not how it should be. I have readied myself to tell the truth, but not like this, hurried, the need pressed upon us. I pull myself upright in the bed, \u201cNo, Tess, please, let me explain\u2026\u201d I start to speak, thinking by instinct that I should take this misunderstanding of hers and run with it. But a look begins to form across her face already, a realization, a horror.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou\u2019re fucking\u2026 you\u2019re one of the investigators, aren\u2019t you? This whole thing\u2026 just a trick to\u2026 to what? See if I\u2019ve been lying? Fuck you, whoever you are, fuck you!\u201d She is screaming and it breaks my heart, the idea of her believing that, believing this place we have found is a sham, part of some other purpose.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Thoth,\u201d I say through the implant, \u201cPause program: Tess.&#8221;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere is a flicker in the room while Thoth thinks. Tess  vanishes and all the reality augments Thoth has built up for me, all the traces of things Tess has done, has touched or moved, are erased.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere is garbage everywhere, a curtain pulled down, scraps of food in among the sheets. Fragments of glass lie across the floor, bloody footprints on the linoleum in the hallway. The air carries a musty, vegetable rot. A buzz and our life flickers back into place, Tess frozen there on the bed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThoth what\u2019s happened?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThoth\u2019s voice stutters, \u201cFirewall breach\u2026 third party contamination\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI bring up the retinals and try to discover the source of the interference, but the interface between here and the observatory is a mess of gibberish commands. Tess twitches, turns to me, speaks a single syllable and freezes again.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI understand, from the readings I draw from Thoth, that I am powerless here. I will have to go up to the observatory and plug directly to the mainframe.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut there is worse; there is not the memory, even in Thoth\u2019s vast reserves, to keep track of all our moments. Thoth must erase as he creates. There is no saved version I can bring back, shortly before this glitch occurred. I will have to fix this problem and then unpause her, face her as she now sits, furious under this wrong-headed notion I may or may not be able to dissuade her from. Or we have the scan. We can reset, go back to the first moment of her waking, the memories of these last perfect months gone from her, mine alone, a treasure I can behold only in secret.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI take the hiking bag from the hook on the wall, lace my boots and set off into the morning. I will make the decision when the time comes.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nUnderfoot the logging road is soft from the rain, the reflections of pines plunging into the murky tyre-rut puddles.  Some trick of the light makes a shape in the reflected silhouette of the canopy, a figure, asleep, curled fetus like, but when I when I look up into the branches the image is no longer there.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA mile on I think I see her, somewhere back there, a flash of her red jacket among the trees. But of course she is not; she is still in the apartment, paused and muted, waiting for me to reset her. The flash of red is just a shape cast by a branch of rust-bright maple leaves clung on through winter.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nDown in the valley a wind bends the trees all together and in that creaking a whisper, almost. \u201cDon\u2019t you dare delete me, don\u2019t you dare try this again, you fucking corporate slug.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s me, Tess, please!\u201d I shout it into the wind.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThen why\u2026\u201d but it is gone, swallowed in the rush of leaves.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy key to the control room turns smoothly in the lock, though my hand is trembling, having made no decision yet and knowing the time is near.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI begin the work, finding that, instead of fixing the problem in the mainframe these past months, I have allowed the problem to grow worse, teased at systems until the lockout spread to them also.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAfter an hour I find my way in, greyed out menu options thickening into bold when the wind gusts in. In the doorway stand two figures, silhouetted against the light.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI think we\u2019ll take it from here, Mr. Whoever-the-fuck-you-are,\u201d one of them says and I know I recognise that voice as the darts of the Taser punch through my jacket and clench my body rigid.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI wake bound, in darkness, in silence, shaken roughly till the haze clears. Images begin to flicker across my retinals, a separate stream to each eye and a voice, distorted and robotic commands me to watch.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey are images of a leaner, younger me, images I have no recollection of: Me in some military uniform. Stills from a security camera of me in the lobby of some corporate building reading a document printed in Sinhalese. A mugshot of me with my face beaten and swollen.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cState your name,\u201d the voice commands.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cJake Durse,\u201d I say through a throat cracked with thirst. They hit me with the electric again, worse this time than the Taser, sharper and with no escape into blackness. More images, flickering stop and start; me somewhere in the desert shaking hands with a man in a suit and shades, the towers of a wind farm lining the horizon. A scan of some ID card with my face on and writing in a language I don\u2019t know. I wonder what this is, if these images have been doctored as some means of making me question myself, some aid to interrogation. And so it goes on, images, the command to state my name and the shock that follows whatever answer I give.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe\u2019re going to ask you some questions. We&#8217;ve made a scan of you and it will be undergoing the same interrogation. If the information the two of you give does not correlate the consequences will be severe. Do you understand?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI mumble answers to their questions, my lips all numb. I tell them everything, all the things I tried and failed to tell Tess. The release I once thought such a confession would bring does not come and they do not believe me or do not care and the shocks keep coming.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey want to know what Tess told me, what secrets she gave away and who I was selling them to, but I have nothing that satisfies them. I have no sense of time, no sense if I have slept and dreamt for the dream is only the flicker of images, the voice and the pain.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut after hours, days, weeks it stops. They pull the mask away from my face but still there is only darkness and a light in my face that the shapes of men move behind.  My head lolls to my chest, my body too weak to hold it up.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHe doesn\u2019t know,\u201d says a voice I know I recognize, the man from the hospital who ran the scan on Tess, the man I stole her from.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIncrease the voltage, that fucker knows,\u201d says the machine voice.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThe resonance image reads clear. Whoever\u2019s asset he is, they\u2019ve done the number on him. He might have some liminal awareness of the goals they\u2019ve set him but he\u2019s no idea who he or they are. This Jake Durse personality is built from the ground up, it\u2019s all he knows. He&#8217;s more like a bug, a listening device than an agent. Whoever this body originally belonged to&#8211;\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLet me take a look, link me in, I\u2019ll find who\u2019s buried in there if I have to dig it out with a spoon.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt might not be wise, there\u2019s a strong likelihood of countermeasures.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI don\u2019t think this little fish is going to put up much of a fight, are you?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI feel a rough hand reach under my chin and lift my face into the light, a palm slap at my cheek. \u201cDon\u2019t remember? Nothing? Just good old Jake Durse the liar. No friends, no family because he\u2019s lied them all away, doesn\u2019t seem a bit fishy to you, little fish?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe lets my head drop and something winks in my retinal, something beyond a scan, a sense of other thoughts pushing down into my own. I try to hold it back but it oozes down like the wash of some narcotic. I feel him groping among my memories, between implant and grey matter.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThere. There. There it is,\u201d the voice says with the weird, triumphant bark of a laugh distorted. A memory, one I do not know, flickers up through my thoughts and as it surfaces I feel a small part of myself collapse into static. He digs, deeper and deeper, dislodging one unknown episode after another and I haven\u2019t the strength to fight.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI should be afraid, should be outraged that this me I know is a fake, an imagined personality cooked up as a sleeper agent, a somnambulist. I should hate whatever mafia or government agency brought this mind to life just to wheedle some bank&#8217;s secrets out of Tess. But really it seems right, only fair given the way I imagine I have lived. There is even a touch of admiration in my thoughts; what perfect cover a liar like me would be, his past so enmeshed in smoke and mirrors its absence is impossible to detect.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI give in, I let my guard down, let his implant burrow down through mine. But as he digs and my thoughts fade into static, I creep, with utter stealth, down into his archives, unearth the copy of me that they have made and steal it. This scan they made when they first dragged me in. It hasn\u2019t seen these images, doesn\u2019t know they are saying about another mind buried deep in my head.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI wrap the scan carefully and glide it into my inquisitor\u2019s inner drive. He will never know that it is there. But like a message in a bottle, cast out into an unforgiving ocean, it will be swept up. As soon as he connects it will slip free, out onto the web, knowing it is looking for Tess. Not the copy of her that I am sure they have imprisoned somewhere, but the Tess who sits in the office, somewhere in Seattle, staring out from the glass.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd when it arrives there is not only this scan, but the program I wrote with Thoth, the program that allows us to exist, shared, out there at the foot of the mountain, and the program the interrogators have used to delve into my secrets. It will be there for her, to see every secret, every fiction I conjured for nothing, and if she wishes, she can bring me back to life, out there, in the forest, at the foot of the mountain.<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"miracles\"><\/a><H1 LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\"><br \/>\n<FONT FACE=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><FONT SIZE=6>Miracles Wrought Before Your Eyes<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy Jude-Marie Green<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSpringer the dog howled like a wolf when the ambulance arrived.  I clapped my hands to my ears but her sorrow broke through to my heart.  She was an old dog, Roberto&#8217;s dog, and followed him around the grounds of the former church and theater auditorium and kitchen like a piece of his own self.  When she barked, not a rare thing, Roberto laughed a bit and shushed the dog, which almost never worked.  She didn\u2019t shush this time either, since Roberto was on the kitchen floor, unconscious.  The ambulance was for him.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe gang of three alley Chihuahuas echoed Springer\u2019s howls.  They were always yowling about something, lonely, I believed, that they weren\u2019t invited into the circus.  The ambulance plowed into the back lot, scattering the suddenly-voiceless Chihuahuas and raising a dust devil that picked up bits of raked leaves and discarded plastic.  The ambulance\u2019s brakes squealed, competing with Springer\u2019s howls.  Half a dozen men poured out of the wagon and I thought about clown cars but did not grin.  Some went around to the back of the wagon and removed the gurney.  The others carried heavy briefcases that I identified from television shows: heart defibrillator, scan monitors, cases with saline and needles and bandages.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA destructively-handsome man \u2013 curly dark hair, blue eyes, Adonis-sculpted muscles \u2013 asked where the victim was.  Victim.  He meant Roberto.  I jerked my chin towards the kitchen.  The bunch of them flooded into the kitchen.  They were quiet and deliberate and quick.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSpringer stood over Roberto and howled again.  She did not have an aggressive bone in her body but she was not going to budge.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cCan you move the dog, please, miss?  And what happened?  Can you describe the event?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI clipped a leash onto Springer\u2019s collar and pulled her away.  Roberto, conscious but not alert, followed the dog with his eyes.  Men bent over him, cutting his tee-shirt and placing monitors, wrapping a cuff around his upper arm.  I was not sure he noticed them.  He did not say anything.  No one else spoke up, either.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHe fell down,\u201d I said.  \u201cApoplexy.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe paramedic threw me an odd glance.  I remembered that \u2018apoplexy\u2019 was an old word.  I shrugged.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nRoberto\u2019s wandering gaze accused me every time his eyes met mine.  Even as the ambulance guys and the circus people and Vicky, his wife, pushed me and Springer further away from Roberto I could not stop staring at him as though I had never left his side.  I swallowed the excuses and apologies that wanted to flow from my mouth, my throat, my heart.  Nothing here was my fault.  He had made a deal with the devil and the deal fell through.  He needed someone to blame.  I was convenient.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut I was not at fault.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nRoberto whispered instructions while the ambulance guys \u2013 medics \u2013 stuck needles into his arms and placed monitor leads and inflated the blood pressure cuff.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAlice,\u201d he gasped.  \u201cTake care of Vicky.\u201d  He pushed aside the oxygen mask.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI will,\u201d I promised from across the room.  Roberto could not have heard me.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe ambulance guy, Adonis with the cold blue eyes, pushed him flat again.  So gentle, yet implacable.  Roberto did not resist.  From across the breadth of the kitchen commons, I saw him give up.  Stop.  Lay back and accept help against whatever came next.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn the blink of an eye, or so it seemed to me, the room emptied.  Roberto on a gurney, the hilarious number of medics, the circus performers, herded along by Vicky, all uncommonly quiet, all fled the room.  Chasing off to the hospital.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSpringer curled around my feet.  Her hurt and puzzlement washed over me.  I bent down and rubbed her ears.  What I had to give, I gave to her.  Some peace and some love, some reassurance.  Nothing miraculous.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJust a few days ago I had smelled my brother\u2019s miracles and followed his stench to this place.  A church, unconsecrated.  A circus, dedicated to performance art.  A sign in the front window heralding miracles with every show.  Another sign, smaller, advertising rooms for rent.  A tall wooden door, brown paint peeling off in strips, represented my choice: enter and fight again, or walk away.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI&#8217;m tired, I cried wordlessly.  I am not ready.  I glanced at the tar road behind me.  Then I faced forward and knocked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nRoberto had opened the door, but Springer let me stay.  I sat at the big wooden table while Roberto had discussed ifs and maybes and possibilities.  We don\u2019t usually rent to women, he said.  The dog had walked into the room.  Springer.  She held her human-given name in the first layer of her soul.  I plumbed it easily enough.  She stopped in mid-step, her left paw raised, and gazed at me with her caramel eyes.  When her inspection ended she padded over to me and licked my bare ankle.  Then she sauntered over to Roberto and laid out flat next to his chair.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGood enough for me!\u201d Roberto exclaimed.  \u201cAny friend of Springer\u2019s can\u2019t be all bad.  You\u2019re in.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe assumed I was one of the desperate homeless and I didn\u2019t disillusion him.  I did offer him money.  He took half.  He told me where to get free food and medical attention, gave me a sheet of paper listing the rules.  &#8216;Don\u2019t hang out in the theater&#8217; was number one with a bullet.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI can\u2019t go into the theater?\u201d I said.  I was here because of the theater, or rather because of what my brother had done with the theater.  Because of the miracles.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s for the performers only, the artists.\u201d  His assessment that I was no performance artist was accurate and instant, though it hurt a bit.  Who doesn\u2019t want to be a circus performer, somewhere in their soul?  I nodded dumbly.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou can join the audience during the shows, though.  Free.  There\u2019s a show tomorrow.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe walked me through the dirt-packed compound to my trailer, a cold metal bullet every bit as unpleasant as I had expected it to be.  I had a small sack of possessions: a change of clothes, a book.  Roberto loaned me a blanket, well-worn and multiply-mended, but clean.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI wrapped myself in the blanket and sat cross-legged on the floor, waiting through the night.  But my brother didn\u2019t show himself then.  He was far too wily.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI\u2019d find him, my brother, my adversary.  I\u2019d find out about these miracles of his.  He was the devil to my angel and I\u2019d fight him if I had to.  I hoped I wouldn\u2019t have to fight.  I was tired.  Winning would not be a certain thing.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI closed my eyes to listen to the world around me.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe muezzin at the mosque across the black tar road sang his final night call to prayer.  His mind strayed from God and into his creature comforts, dinner, soft clothes, where he was happy.  Content.  His content flowed around me like a sweet breeze.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe theater was louder than his song, discordant.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSomeone played a honky tonk piano riff.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSomeone else strummed a nylon string guitar through a few cowboy chords.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSomeone, no: two people, a man and a woman, threw pins at each other, meaty thuds each time a hand caught one, shouted \u2018Ha\u2019s as they tossed them again.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSomeone sang breathlessly while balancing on a skateboard balanced on a box on a chair on a bucket.  He juggled tennis balls above his head.  All those sounds, song click roll thump, mixed in a rhythm.  Ah!  That was how he did it, synchronizing all those rhythms.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut I heard nothing of my brother.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe muezzin began the day break call to prayer.  Venus hung bright in the pre-dawn sky.  There would be a full moon later.  Later, I would search the grounds for him.  My adversary.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI shrugged off the blanket and wandered into the yard.  Uneven red brick laid in pathways to big Persian rugs spread over the hard-pack dirt to a little bit of worn concrete surrounding the outside of the theater.  Dirt and weed and stones.  A glossy black raven perched on a barren jacaranda tree and laughed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAt me?  Maybe.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCoffee stank up the kitchen.  I filled a mug, grateful that someone had been kind enough to brew it.  I straddled a bench.  Springer rambled into the room and woofed at me.  Roberto followed close behind her.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cShow tonight!\u201d he said, enthusiasm wafting from him in clouds.  \u201cYou\u2019re welcome to watch.  For free.  I\u2019ll bet you\u2019ll like it!  We have a special, a special, a special&#8230;\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSpringer raised her head and whined at him.  Me, I could smell my brother\u2019s work, mental sulfur.  I frowned.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI know, dog.  I got it.\u201d  I said a Word, not strong enough to knock out the enchantment but Roberto\u2019s head should clear temporarily.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cUh.\u201d  Roberto&#8217;s eyes cleared.  \u201cGuest performer.  He does sleight of hand.  We\u2019ve all been very impressed\u2026\u201d  Again he paused after delivering wooden words.  Then he shambled out of the room.  Springer followed with her tail drooping.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy brother had made a strong home here.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI huddled around the still-hot mug.  The Word had taken so much from me.  Not physically, no.  I was a strong wiry girl.  But my mind was blank, used-up.  I had nothing, no resources, no reserves.  I would need to gather more to myself before trying to find my brother.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWho would be here, tonight, performing \u2018magic.\u2019\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA woman lurched into the kitchen on stiff legs.  Blonde hair sat in a pile on her head.  The knuckles on her hands were enlarged, gnarled with arthritis.  She cautiously poured a cup of coffee for herself, adding sugar and milk and delicately stirring it all together.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe glanced at me with red, worried eyes.  A crease ran deep between her eyebrows.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m Vicky,\u201d she said.  \u201cYou must be the new one.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAlice,\u201d I said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTime froze.  My cheeks flushed and my whole body tingled.  I knew this woman.  I had fought for her before, against my brother.  I had won, the woman released.  Surely this was no coincidence.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI raked through the layers of her soul that I could reach.  Nothing but fatigue and disease.  I saw where I had touched her previously.  She was uncompromised.  And she did not recognize me.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAlice,&#8221; she repeated.  &#8220;Goodtameetcha.  Roberto said you\u2019re doing chores for your rent.  Let me show you around.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI rinsed out my coffee cup.  She brought hers with her.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe kitchen side-door opened onto the theater lobby.  The lobby inclined upwards to a concession stand swathed in disco-sparkly decorations.  Black velvet curtains hung at the two entrances to the theater auditorium.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDon\u2019t go in there,\u201d Vicky said.  \u201cPerformers\u2019 safe space.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI nodded.  The entire space, though neat as a pin, oozed decrepit age from its polished wood to its care-worn walls.  Dust glazed every surface.  I ran my hand across the counter.  No dust after all.  The glaze was metaphysical, dried-on ectoplasm.  Vicky couldn\u2019t see it, I was certain.  I would try to wash it away, later.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nVicky led me outside.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nChain-link fences ringed three sides of the yard with the theater building, the old church, on the west side.  Walls stood against the fencing, wood stakes, bricks, a hedgerow.  Artistic diversity.  Many hands had labored to build these fortifications.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nVicky slid into a rocking chair under a shade-awning.  She waved me away.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMake yourself at home,\u201d she said, faint and faded.  \u201cIf you have questions, just ask anybody.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI hadn\u2019t seen anyone else.  Not that I had questions.  I nodded to Vicky and continued my explorations alone.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI followed the fencing around to the side gate.  The wall here was built of bottles, all the rich colors that soda manufacturers used, amber green yellow red blue.  A spectrum in glass.  When the right wind hit the bottles\u2019 lips, they whistled eerie as a Theremin.  A rug propped up as a canopy protected me from sunshine and shaded the yard from prying eyes.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI grabbed a broom and swept.  I raised tornadoes of dust from the rugs on the hard-pack.  I raked the barren ground.  Inside the common rooms I swept and mopped and scrubbed.  A vacuum stood near the front door.  I plugged it in and tracked it over all the worn red carpet, wall to wall and up and down risers and aisles.  I cleaned out cobwebs.  Supernatural crud, the gleaming dried ectoplasm, dissolved with little effort.  All the time my mind was blank.  No songs or prayers or thoughts.  Just blank.  Recharging.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn the lobby I dropped the vacuum back in its place.  I meant to take a cloth to the walls but there was too much hanging decoration.  Art, I guess.  Strong women in acrobatic situations.  Writs of wisdom scrolled on the wall.  Plaques, awards, newspaper clippings.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWait.  Wisdom on the wall?  \u2018Miracles Wrought Before Your Eyes,\u2019 promised with a Bible quote and additional painted flourishes.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI laughed aloud.  Yes.  I would witness them.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt was time to wash myself.  Earlier I had scrubbed the shower clean.  Now I scrubbed myself clean.  The joy of modern baptism flooded me with wonder until I shouted with joy.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMiracles!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIndeed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI wrapped up in a bath towel and stepped out, soggy and cleansed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA clown sat on the toilet, resting his head on his hands, a red wig of tulle and glitter spilling over his face.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHello,\u201d I said, tugging my bath towel tight.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cUh,\u201d the clown said.  He sat like his colorful clown pants were glued to the toilet seat, which was closed, I noted.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou need the shower,\u201d I suggested.  His thoughts were opaque.  Perhaps he was drunk.  A shower would help.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou can\u2019t help me.\u201d  His voice, distant, calm, echoed in the steamy bathroom.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDo you want my help?\u201d  My automatic response.  Ancient.  I had that phrase in languages that no one spoke any longer.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s too late, too late,\u201d the clown muttered.  He stomped into the shower, one clown-shoe-clad foot rising and slapping down, his other foot dragging with a whisk across the tile floor.  He leaned against the glass door.  Water spattered and flowed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI whispered, \u201cHave faith.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI sat front row center during the show.  My brother would know I was here.  I had no reason to hide.  The lights dimmed.  Hidden spotlights sparkled on the worn red carpet and green velvet of the seats.  A big-screen above the stage showed a film of colorful shapes morphing into new shapes.  Droning music played low, enough to itch a mind to alertness but not yet a signal for silence and attention.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nPeople occupied all the theater\u2019s seats.  Families with kids of all ages, popcorn and soda.  Couples on dates holding hands.  In the seats near me, the front row, wheelchairs and crutches and walking sticks and a guide-dog resting his head on someone\u2019s shoes.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOh.  Those kinds of miracles.  I had wondered.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA piercing shriek of feedback startled us all to silence.  Was it deliberate?  A brilliant horrid way to catch a happy audience.  I scowled.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrom the first moment I was swept up in the night\u2019s entertainment.  The lights doused and neon-glowing performers tumbled onto the stage.  My gasps and laughter and applause mingled with everyone else\u2019s.  I allowed the ordinary enchantment to engulf me.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI enjoyed the performances.  Masses of athletic men and women, and even a child, swarmed on stage from left and right and front.  Some gyrated in dance and gymnastics, flipping somersaults and kicking up high-stepping can-cans.  Performers entered and exited the stage at random, changing the acts, lights flickering and changing color and intensity.  Should I have felt guilty about appreciating their art?  No.  Not even the drunken clown had asked for help.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSome musical note must have signaled a pause.  I stirred in my seat.  The whole theater rustled as people fidgeted, moved, changed position.  No one stood up, though.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe lights brightened.  The wild calliope crashed to a stop.  The performers on stage froze in mid-finale.  Surly Girl stretched on an aerial ring.  Giorgio juggled tennis balls, now motionless in a circle above his head.  The clown paused with a half-inflated balloon.  The magician was caught sliding a card into his coat.  And my brother&#8230;\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy brother sauntered on stage, right up front.  His jeans were uncreased indigo and his boots alligator-green.  He squatted and a spotlight made his average clean-shaven face gleam.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cFive,\u201d he said.  And, \u201cChoose.\u201d  Then he stood up, relaxed, waiting on the audience.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn my experience, that kind of command resulted in chaos.  Easily fifteen people near me sported injuries, handicaps, bottles of oxygen, helpers.  I tensed against the inevitable fight.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut no, quiet consultations and five people were pushed forward.  They lined up at the step to the stage.  My brother towered over them.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe pointed at a young woman.  \u201cYou have eyes but you cannot see.  Open your eyes.  The scales shall fall away.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAll so quiet.  The woman\u2019s mouth dropped into an \u2018O\u2019 and she flailed with both arms.  Two friends grabbed her, supported her, hushed her \u2013 unnecessarily \u2013 and dragged her up the aisle.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut I can see!\u201d she wailed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy brother called from the stage.  \u201cDon\u2019t leave!  The show isn\u2019t over.  Let her see it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe woman and her companions sank into the nearest seats.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNow you!\u201d he said, pointing to a man in a wheelchair.  \u201cYou\u2019re sitting down on the job.  Get off your ass.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe man stood up, shaky at first, then like Charlie Bucket&#8217;s Grandpa Joe, with hope and joy and increasing strength.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy brother pointed at a woman with no obvious handicap and told her that she was clear and clean.  He pointed at a one-armed man and said that the arm would not grow back but his mind was healed, incisive and ready to work.  He pointed at the little boy and had him dance a jig.  He said disease was banished by physical activity and the boy\u2019s gymnastic future was assured.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI sank in my velvet seat, deflated.  These people were honestly cured, truly miracled.  They wouldn\u2019t relapse in an hour or two or twenty-four.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy brother had performed good deeds.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe calliope music wailed to life and the performers unfroze.  They completed their paused acts.  I struggled to my feet.  This was not my fight.  True miracles?  I would not interfere with those.  I retreated up the theater aisle.  I wanted the door.  I could leave!  Springer, on stage, wearing a ruff and walking on her hind legs, rolled an eye at me and whined.  She continued her performance, like a trouper, and I kept walking.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nUntil I was not.  I was in a dim tiny closet of a room, the projection room.  So was my brother.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHugh,\u201d I said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAlice,\u201d he replied.  \u201cI\u2019ve missed you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe silence increased between us.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThen I sighed.  \u201cI was just leaving.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe laughed.  \u201cThey sent you after me \u2013 you, my favorite sister \u2013 and you\u2019re giving up without a fight?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat\u2019s to fight?  You\u2019re helping people.  This was a mistake.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh.  You missed it?\u201d  Disappointment.  My brother was disappointed in me.  Nothing new there.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI did not say anything.  He would show me.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe pointed to the windowless aperture.  We were in the projection room, high above the theater floor.  He gestured and the aperture widened, swallowing most of the wall.  Would anyone, looking up, see us?  I doubted.  This was one-way magic.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe performers were on stage, taking bows.  My brother pointed at the little boy he\u2019d cured.  The child pinched an infant held by his mother.  While the infant screamed, distracting the adults all around him, he dipped into the pocket of the man in the next seat over and drew out a wallet.  He slid it inside his pants.  No one saw this.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cCatch \u2018em young and they\u2019re yours forever,\u201d my brother said.  His satisfaction painted the air between us.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI folded my arms across my chest and shook my head.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat was practiced,\u201d I said.  \u201cHe was like that before your miracle.  You cured his body, not his corrupted soul.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy brother stamped his feet.  \u201cLook!  Look you!  Where is my sister who knows how to see?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe swept his arm out.  The five people he\u2019d cured \u2013 not touching them, never from him a touch \u2013 they glowed like jellyfish on a moonless night.  Like fireflies on an infinite summer night.  Like mushrooms on a velvet painting under black light.  Dark, rotten, luminous.  My brother, a lord of light, had illuminated these people as his own with dark torches.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThey\u2019re mine,\u201d he said.  \u201cHere and forever.  She\u2019ll murder when I tell her to.  That one-armed man can still hold a gun.  As for the boy, well, you\u2019ve seen my little thief in action.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh, boastful,\u201d I said.  My voice shook.  So did the rest of me.  \u201cI would have gone and let you continue.  But you had to brag.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe snorted.  \u201cMy sister would have let it go?  I think not.  You are here for the battle.  How is it I always know you better than you know yourself?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy fists shook as I held them close to my ribs.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou don\u2019t know me.  You just follow the script of our fates.  You run, I chase.  You harm, I fix.  You challenge, I fight.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes, yes,\u201d he nodded.  \u201cLet\u2019s get on with the fight, shall we?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy brother and I stand at the same height, 5\u20198\u201d.  We are both built slender and straight.  He wore his hair short and mine was coiled above my ears.  When we rushed each other, our conflict was equal, like twins come to blows over a constant argument.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWe battled in front of the projector and our shadows played on the theater curtain.  The house lights were up and people milled with performers for end-of-show mix-and-meet.  They all saw our shadows then, and they watched.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHugh and I grappled, wrestling.  Our cast shadows showed our wings, our hair straining in a numinous breeze, our muscular bodies, skin to skin, struggling.  We were perfectly matched.  Neither gave, neither gained.  Our shadows locked.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn that endless minute, the audience watched and listened while angels fought.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe dog barked.  Oh Springer!  I received a thrill of energy from her.  Her life and support and pure doggish loyalty infused my spirit.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI threw my brother down.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe breathless pause broke.  The people in the theater cheered and yelled and continued to disperse.  Damned good show, for them.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI panted as I stood over my brother.  The aperture returned to its true size.  So did our shadows.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHugh, my brother, my adversary, lay prone on the floor.  He\u2019d flung an arm over his face.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDefeat is never easy,\u201d I said.  I offered my hand, to raise him up.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe ignored me.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSpringer charged into the room.  She placed herself between me and my fallen brother.  I put a hand on her head.  \u201cGood dog,\u201d I praised.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nRoberto ran into the tiny room right after her.  Crowded, too crowded, we\u2019d have to exit soon, I thought, my brother and I.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat have you done?\u201d he shouted at me.  Springer whimpered but didn\u2019t move.  Roberto knelt at my brother\u2019s side.  \u201cAre you all right?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy brother ignored Roberto.  He lifted his arm and looked at me.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s always a dog with you, isn\u2019t it?\u201d  His voice could have doubled for Eden\u2019s serpent.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI gripped Springer\u2019s collar to keep her from lunging at him.  \u201cYou are defeated,\u201d I said.  \u201cYou must go.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nRoberto cried out, \u201cNo!  Vicky!  You promised you would cure her!  That was the bargain!\u201d  He was on the verge of violence, ready to hit at Hugh or at me.  Or at himself.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMy brother keeps the bargains he wants to keep,\u201d I said.  \u201cIf Vicky isn\u2019t healed already, she won\u2019t be.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou lied?\u201d  Roberto grabbed Hugh\u2019s shirt in both hands and shook him.  \u201cYou promised!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHe is the liar,\u201d I said.  \u201cAnd now he must go.\u201d  We both knew that, as victor, I could enforce his departure.  I preferred to let him voluntarily go.  A weakness on my part, sympathy for him.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy brother pushed Roberto away.  He sprang to his feet.  \u201cI will go,\u201d he said.  Then he laughed, a hard ugly sound.  \u201cBut first\u2026\u201d  He pointed at the dog.  \u201cStop.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy brother\u2019s Word, vicious as a cobra\u2019s backlash, failed to meet its target.  I brushed it away.  The freed Word should have dissipated but my brother&#8217;s hot anger goaded it forward.  The Word gained another victim.  Roberto laid out flat on the projector room floor, stopped.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy brother\u2019s laugh was the only thing left of him and it too faded like the Cheshire cat\u2019s grin.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI stood over Roberto.  Miracles are hard and exact all kinds of prices, from the giver as well as from the receiver.  I breathed in deep and said a Word.  The strength of my wish staggered me and I tripped against Springer, falling onto my backside.  Roberto\u2019s heart started again, along with his rasping breathing.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis eyes clouded.  I did not know how much he would remember.  I did not care.  He turned from me and climbed down the stairs like an old man, hesitating on each riser.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSpringer and I followed him into the kitchen.  Roberto leaned against the counter, his back hunched up like he was warding off blows.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe performers danced and drank and spoke in high excited tones.  Their good energy filled me.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cRoberto!\u201d someone yelled.  \u201cBest show ever!  That angel-shadow-play thing, we have to do it again!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nRoberto turned around.  Drool spilled from his lips.  He took a single step forward and collapsed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA stroke.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nRoberto passed away.  He struggled but never managed to forgive himself.  He bargained with my brother.  Deals with the devil never work out well.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI grieved, as much as I could.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nVicky kept the theater going.  She had always been strong, under her illness.  Now she showed her strength and more.  She threw her energy into organizing the shows.  The performers honed their acts.  Gloom, the otherworldly glaze of despair and bad choices, gradually faded.  Even the clown walked with a jaunty step.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe shows attracted the whole neighborhood, despite losing the miracles.  I never looked for my brother\u2019s cured audience.  The miracles were transferred to me as I had won the fight, victor&#8217;s spoils.  The dark light he had contaminated them with would fade.  Hugh would not be able to call them in the future.  I suppose this should have pleased me.  I was indifferent.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI did not feel the need to attend another performance.  I sat in my trailer and listened to music and laughter and applause.  I hung out with Springer, that good dog.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAfter a while, Vicky visited my trailer.  I had not been invited to Roberto\u2019s funeral or even to the wake held in the kitchen.  I had an idea that Vicky blamed me for his death.  Maybe the performers did, too.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou have to go,\u201d she said simply.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI nodded at what she left unsaid.  Besides, it was well past time for me to follow my fate to its next destination.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cVicky,\u201d I said.  She paused in the act of turning away.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThank you.\u201d  I grasped her hand.  Some miracles required more than a Word.  My restored energy poured into her.  And the lupus drained away.  She would not know it immediately.  She pulled her hand from mine.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTingles,\u201d she said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI left my borrowed clothes and blankets in the trailer.  One last time I swept and cleaned and raked.  I left Words behind, using the last of my strength.  This place had refreshed me.  I returned the favor.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI went out through the front doors and no one saw me go.  I walked around through the alley to the back fence.  The gang of three Chihuahuas yipped in their tiny dog way.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI wove my fingers through the chain link fence, never mind the oxidation and bird-dirt.  Vicky gripped a coffee mug and took in the changes to the compound.  The bemused look on her face pleased me.  The dirt and dust and trash were all gone.  Flowers bloomed: hardy geraniums, hedge roses, long-necked poppies and thick stands of jonny-jump-ups.   Bright green grass tufted up through the bricks and coated the paths between the trailers.  Even the sad jacaranda tree dripped with purple blossoms.  She might have sensed it, that the freshness was there to stay.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe closed her eyes and tilted her head towards the sky.  I heard the edges of the prayer she sent up.\n <\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSpringer danced around her legs, yipping like a happy thing.  Vicky reached down and stroked her head.  Springer sat and barked at me, on the other side of the fence, once.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhatcha barking at, old girl?\u201d Vicky said.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe couldn\u2019t see me.  But Springer could.  I waved at the dog.  She watched me fade away.<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"darkly\"><\/a><H1 LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\"><br \/>\n<FONT FACE=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><FONT SIZE=6>Darkly with the Shadows<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy C. Allen Exline<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey say the world used to have only one moon.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI wonder if this is true, or whether it is just another of the old wives\u2019 tales they tell you, one of the many myths which surround the past. I shake my head, staring into the night. It does not matter, I realize. It\u2019s irrelevant. What matters is now. What matters is tonight, under the twin luminaries of Vox and Nox\u2014the voice and the night. The sky appears angry.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI feel the grit beneath my boots and smell the urban stench that forever billows up from the undercity. I feel my perspiration as it clings to the heavy cloth of my garments and threatens to sting my eyes with salt. I feel the stagnancy of the air, so calm, so balmy; it is almost like oil, slicking all beneath the celestial sphere, which glows with a wan blue light almost as bright as the moons.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI draw one last breath. The time is now. It can be no other.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe first man goes down quiet, just a dull wet thud. No one notices.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe second man sees me. Recognition dawns upon his face. The briefest moment of knowing, and yet he will wear that expression into eternity. He is dead before he can even scream, before he can cry out for his gods, or against them, to rail against his fate. He is dead before he can warn his fellows, who still pace the grounds, who wear ruts into the ancient flagstones that betray their paths.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTwo sentries remain.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy heart is a hammer stamping out the seconds in my ears. I grip the hilt of my sword and I swear to myself. I swear. And they fall.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe next man is dead before his face breaks upon the ground. But the last is alert, more so than these oblivious dolts who would not have caught a vagrant sneaking into their demesne. He goes for his blade, but that is all. He dies with honor, with his hand firmly gripping a weapon, even if it does remain in its scabbard. His head tumbles from his shoulders to roll into the gutter.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI open the gates and step forth.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWith a gauntleted hand I signal the waiting soldiers. They creep forth from the shadows, pale and resplendent in their armor. Once they see I have won they rush past in rust-colored livery. It is almost purple in this light. Their armor clanks as they pass. The rest is up to them. My part has been played.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOnce they are well within the gates I take care that I am not observed. I glance suspiciously over my shoulder before I withdraw my magic amulet, which governs the doors. I step into the passage and seal it shut behind me. The tunnels are long and dark as sleep, yet they are safe. None know them but me. So I sheathe my sword and make my way in blindness. I consider producing the witchlight from the folds of my cloak, but I refrain. It\u2019s okay, for I have memorized the way. It isn\u2019t far.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI come to the proper hatch and I open it with caution, peering about to make sure no one has seen. I have had enough killing for one night.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAll is clear. I emerge, sealing the passage behind me. I must always seal it, lest another might discover the way. The way is my edge. And a sword is only as valuable as its edge.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI am in a great hall. Columns climb into the gloom of a great, vaulted ceiling high above. Pilasters stand like stone ribs against the wall. All is distorted by writhing shadow. I walk into this grand chamber and notice the row of barred windows high up the far wall. Lightning flickers there. Perhaps the gods are angry. I would not know; I do not speak with them.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nEach flash throws bars of purple light upon the columns, for the windows are glazed with a roseate hue. It is by this intermittent radiance that I navigate, until I reach the chamber\u2019s end. There Gustabbian Ward sits alone at his desk. It is a lonely escritoire, with a single candle placed upon it to banish the darkness in fits of quivering light.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFor a few moments I watch my friend from the privacy of the relative gloom, outside the narrow circle of light offered by his candle. He writes upon a long scroll, occasionally dipping the point of his quill into a jar of ink. Every so often he sprinkles sand upon his work. I decide to interrupt him.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI call his name and he looks up, startled. \u201cWho\u2019s there?\u201d he calls, groping for a dagger that rests upon his desk.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt is done,\u201d I tell him.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow did you get in here?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI have my methods. You know that, Gus. That is why you hire me, is it not?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGustabbian neglects to answer. \u201cMy men have entered the demesne?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes. They are there now. I had no need to wait, did I? I have no interest vested in their success.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGustabbian pauses for several moments, not moving, not speaking. He is occupied with thought. Then he moves as if to stand, but stops himself, saying, \u201cWhy do you not step forward, into the light?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt is a suggestion.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAs he speaks another charge of lightning throws a bright velvet cast upon the cavernous room, lining my helmet with vivid color. He sees this. His eyes play over the dusky impression of the colossal column against which I stand. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you come out?\u201d he says.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cVery well,\u201d I say, stepping into the candlelight. \u201cWhere is my pay?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI may have another job for you.\u201d Gustabbian rises to his feet, gripping his quill pen with a firm but delicate grip. He peers within the shade of my helmet, where he knows my eyes to be, though they are veiled in darkness to be revealed only in the lightning flashes. I prefer to keep it that way.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat is it?\u201d I ask.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh, pretty much along the usual lines for you, Castor.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSpecifically?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell, now.\u201d He spreads his arms wide in a gesture of inclusion. \u201cI would prefer some guarantee, my friend, before I put forward such elements as are vital to my plans.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou have been in this basement too long, Gus. I will offer no guarantee. Tell me the job and I will consider it, or simply pay me and I will leave.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou know I am hesitant in my dealings with Heretics.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI know you are hesitant in your dealings with those you do not control.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIs pay not a form of control?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s not if I do not accept the job.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTouch\u00e9.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFor several minutes we stand in silence, merely watching the interplay of lightning and burning tallow upon the curved faces of the columns, upon the chairs which are arranged like emaciated shadows crouching before the Drighten\u2019s desk. Gustabbian lifts the flaming candle from the desktop and moves to a tall candelabrum, which he lights. The orange circle of firelight expands immediately in diameter, so that the wall behind him is shown in sharp relief along with the tapestries that drape it. The light plays upon the contours of my helm and the curving ram-like horns that are mounted there. A tusk-like extension protrudes from the jaw area, casting a dark bar across my face where the light has otherwise intruded upon the open visor.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYour aspect is hardly less daunting in the light,\u201d Gustabbian grumbles.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMy \u2018aspect\u2019 is of little consequence at the moment.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh, is it not? When I do business, Castor, I prefer to look my associate in the eyes. I prefer to see their faces, for much is written there. A man\u2019s mark on parchment may not be of more consequence than a stray look or an errant press of the lips. A mien can tell you much that one would not disclose in words.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cPerhaps,\u201d I concede. \u201cNevertheless, you know what I am about.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAye, and that is what worries me, Castor. I would rather give no more information on this matter than is necessary to do the work. If you have no desire to commit to the work then all information is not necessary.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI understand your dilemma. I will not commit to a task I know nothing about. I cannot promise that I will commit to a task I do know something about, either. All I can say is, \u201cI may be interested, depending on what it is.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes, thank you, Castor. That is quite helpful. Perhaps now I should disclose to you all of my plans? We both know you are a dealer in more than death, even if that is ever the outcome of your enterprise.\u201d Gustabbian chuckled softly. \u201cIt would behoove you to accept a special offer on my account.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWould it,\u201d I say, dryly.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIndeed, it would. I believe it may interest you, that I have considered an invitation.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe hesitates for effect. I press him. \u201cYes?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI would like to invite you to join this House.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFascinating. \u201cI will have to consider it. Regardless, the last job has already been completed. I have delivered to your men the western gate of Harkweal. You owe me payment.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAye, that may be so. Oh, I do not doubt your word, once it has been given, Castor. I believe you that the deed is done. Still, I thought you might be more excited by the prospect of permanent employment. It is a means to escape your peculiar stigma, Castor. Who else would\u2014who else has\u2014extended you such a generous proposal?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt was true that no other had made such an offer. It was almost unheard of&#8211;and certainly within my lifetime&#8211;to sponsor a Heretic. \u201cIt is a most courteous offer,\u201d I admit.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat, I believe, is a gross understatement. Even so, it occurs to me that you may be more interested in this other contract.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSkeptical. \u201cI find few things more interesting than getting paid.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGustabbian chuckles again, more heartily this time, moving to yet another candelabrum. It is like a tree of iron, roughly head-high, each of its branches terminating in a flat disc of metal housing a tallow pillar. These Gustabbian lights, sending out yet more luminosity as if in an effort to fill the chamber. \u201cWhat say you, Castor?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI am irritated that he does not accept my statements, annoyed that he continues to press me for this action despite my demands for the pay I have already won. I answer hotly. \u201cI have already answered you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nPause. \u201cVery well.\u201d Gustabbian motions with a curiously overblown gesture.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI hear the soldiers enter. Clink. Clink. Metal on metal, and the scrape of arms upon their scabbards. Two men. I can smell their breath wafting over my shoulders.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI place my hand upon my sword. \u201cWhat is the meaning of this?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI do trust you, Castor, I really do. I accept your word. Your deeds, however, are another matter entirely. You are a Heretic, after all.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nRage rushes through me like lava in my veins. It reaches my temples, threatening to surge forth in a tempest of carnage. Two soldiers. Only two?\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhat is he after?\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI relax and my hand falls away from the hilt of my sword. I must negotiate this encounter with utmost deftness. Radiate calm, I tell myself. I am at ease, even though fury surges like a river within me, threatening to burst through, to rupture the bonds of reason. \u201cAll right,\u201d I say, and my voice does not quaver. It is perfectly even, perfectly sedate. \u201cTell me your plot.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou will partake, then?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy heart beats time. I can hear the breath of my prospective assailants\u2014strained, shallow. They are serious, a real threat. I imagine I can see their faces, though they are amorphous and without character; they watch Gustabbian, awaiting the sign. Awaiting the command to plunge their blades into my back. Like cowards. They are cowards. They will not face me. Merely assert their menace in every passing instant. I can almost feel their gaze upon me, their scrutiny, watching for any swift movement. Then I almost wish I were without my helmet, for my sight is restricted; my periphery is constrained by the curving horns that shield the sides of my head and guard my vision slit. But I know I have registered movement at the verge of my awareness.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAssassins.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nYou clever bastard.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMind. Racing. What is this? What does it mean?\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI will be followed.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey shall discover my secret.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHave they already?\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nPerhaps this is a coup de main. A killing stoke. He has uncovered my secret, and this is his warped scheme. Is it Comeuppance? His diabolical rendition of justice? He shall kill me and bury my knowledge of what he has stolen.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCan it be? Does he truly know?\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI sense my body growing rigid. But the soldiers will notice, they shall signal the assassins if I make a move. I must settle my nerves, banish this burgeoning alarm. Perhaps these waiting killers are merely insurance. Assurance. That guarantee of which he spoke so favorably I must go along with his plan, for now. \u201cI will participate in your scheme, Drighten.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cExcellent!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe gesture is ever so slight. It would have gone unnoticed were I not hyper-attentive to his every motion. Every subtle twitch, each step as he paced, every flick of the eye I studied. For any of these things might be a signal to the waiting bravos. I see the gesture, and I know my would-be killers are withdrawing deeper into the lightlessness which surrounds the ring of orange glow. They are melding into the recesses. But merely to wait, to slay me once this final task is completed? As soon as I step out of line, for a certainty. And perhaps before. Perhaps as soon as I leave this room. And how many? How many are they? I know only of one, but my intuition informs me of more.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat is the job?\u201d I ask. My voice is placid.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGustabbian quits pacing. He stops. And he turns to face me in the full brunt of many candles\u2019 glow. \u201cThen you shall join my house as well, friend Heretic?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThis rankles. I swallow. I swallow the lump in my throat. I think it might be my pride. \u201cAye.\u201d It is done.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA broad, almost sadistic smile breaks upon Gustabbian\u2019s broad, sparsely bearded face. \u201cGood,\u201d he declares. I can feel tension melting from the room, oozing out through the stonework. The men who stand behind me announce their relief with a slightly less inaudible exhale. I can smell the stench of it. I can almost picture their faces, broken, rotting teeth set in slightly pudgy masks. Another quick, easy-to-miss gesture from Gustabbian and I hear them take a heavy step back. \u201cYou will now how did you put it? Have a vested interest in our success.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOr what? I wanted to say. You banish me? Bah! I can survive as an outcast, without Gustabbian\u2019s contracts. \u201cAlas,\u201d I say, \u201cWhat is the job?\u201d and my voice is just as placid as before.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAre you not glad, my friend? Are you not joyous? Overjoyed, even? You have been welcomed into my House\u2014a house. You shall have food. Shelter. Women.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI have food. I have shelter. I have Zora. I have all I need.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSo, come now, Castor. Rejoice!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTruly, I am beside myself. It must be that I simply conceal my excitement well.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat is \u2018I simply conceal my excitement well, my liege.\u2019 Well, you will adjust, I\u2019m sure. You always do. After all, it has been a while, I know. A while. How long has it been, Castor? How long since you have pledged fealty?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI have never. \u201cIt has been a long time, my liege.\u201d I want to spit, to cleanse my mouth of the words.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGustabbian nods, placing a bent finger to his lip as if he would bite his own hand. Meditating. \u201cYou,\u201d he says, looking at me with a cold stare, \u201care like a wild dog. It will not do to train you, Castor. Not like these other curs.\u201d He insults them to their faces. And yet they do nothing. They call it discipline. They are curs.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo,\u201d he continues. \u201cYou, I think, deserve a different treatment. Castor, I shall dub thee Thane. You will be not a cur but a fine hound, for a hunter you are at your core. Will you accept this charge?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe shows some deference.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes,\u201d I say, my voice thick with mixed emotion. \u201cThis I will accept.\u201d It is not enough to be given a place at the table. It must be a place of honor.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHa ha!\u201d He relishes. \u201cThen so I will it. You, Castor Thorne, are henceforth a Thane in the House of Ironlatch.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAll hail Ironlatch,\u201d chime the henchmen at my back. Finally they speak.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI groan and hope the others do not hear me over their pageantry. \u201cAll hail Ironlatch.\u201d Again I want to spit.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNow,\u201d says Gustabbian. \u201cI believe you had inquired about that job.\u201d Yes. I did. \u201cOne thing you must understand, however.\u201d The catch. \u201cAll jobs, from this point forward, are Ironlatch jobs. Everything you do, Castor, must be in the interest of Ironlatch. You do comprehend this, yes?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI am not a dog. \u201cYes,\u201d my voice grates.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGood. So, I intend to move against House Fellbrook.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFellbrook? No wonder he needs my help. Fellbrook is the strongest House in this sector. When Fellbrook moves the lesser houses must move in unison or be quashed. My interest is piqued. \u201cWhat is your plan, Gus?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh? Gus, you say? Yes, old habits. Very well,\u201d he says dismissively. \u201cFor the time being you are granted certain allowances. At any rate, my plan, I seek to move against the great House. I desire first that you provide me, and my advisors, with any privileged information that you may have acquired in your dealings with them.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou would command me to break an oath,\u201d I bark.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell, you are not at liberty to grant an oath against your house, are you?\u201d Ex post facto. \u201cSo, any oaths which you might have outstanding are invalidated, are they not? I say they are, and I am your Drighten, so they must be. You are relieved of them. Proceed as though you have no bonds of any sort up to this day. Only the bonds of House Ironlatch constrain you now, Castor. Am I understood?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI hide a sigh.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGood. Then you shall accompany me in the refectory, for tonight we feast. But first, you must pledge fealty.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIf you so command, my liege.\u201d Again I want to spit, but in Gustabbian\u2019s eye.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTime sloughs away like the flesh from a dead man and I am seated atop a rostrum spanning the width of the room and a step above the rest of the floor. Our table is very long, space for maybe forty individuals. Other such tables are arranged throughout the room, which is deep and smoky. The exit is opposite us, we face it as we eat, though the other tables are set perpendicular to our own so that their occupants must turn their heads to the side as Gustabbian stands and calls for attention. His voice carries well through the deep room and a hush falls like a spring rain in the wake of his call. \u201cWe are gathered,\u201d he announces, \u201cin celebration of a great victory over House Harkweal. For this night we captured that house\u2019s western gates.\u201d He hesitates before an onslaught of applause. \u201cThis feat was accomplished through the efforts of the most recent addition to our number.\u201d He urges me to stand and I do so with a groan. \u201cWelcome Castor Thorne, thane of House Ironlatch!\u201d Clapping. \u201cNow all of you, drink, and be merry.\u201d Cheer and approbation.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI reclaim my seat and Gustabbian sits at my right, and to the right of him is Gwayne, his top dog. I see Gwayne only in half-caught glimpses between Gustabbian\u2019s epic bouts of engorgement. Gwayne and I have met before. He is a severe man, a natural killer and fearless combatant. His features are wide and angular, his expression grim. He eats with slow, controlled deliberation, contrasted by Gustabbian\u2019s wonton gluttony. Gustabbian shovels mana and garden vegetables into his orifice with disregard for courtesy. He thinks this is merry.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nRacks of lamb and basted fowl clutter the table before me, with yeast rolls and the mana and garden vegetables with which Gustabbian is so taken. Yet I hardly touch it. My appetite is overcast by my intuition, which once again speaks to me like an informant whispering hushed secrets beneath the steel of my helmet.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThen Gustabbian speaks to me. \u201cYou will not regret this day, Castor.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAye. Rarely do I regret decisions made under duress.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSarcasm is not lost on me, my friend.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThen I must use it more often.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDo not overextend yourself,\u201d he says around a mouthful of food. Disgusting. Grease coats his jowls as he predates upon the meat lain before us. He is a carnivore, to be sure. A dangerous man. Once my friend but perhaps no longer, for I am a captive to his employ. And how many of these others feel the same, I wonder. How many would turn upon him, given the opportunity? How many begrudge him their lot?\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nYet most people fear apostasy. They will not be heretics, rejecting the patron gods of their houses, rejecting the divine rule of their masters. Most people are fearful, and dwelling thus in fear they will commit any atrocity; they will turn blindly to acts of abomination undertaken by their lords. They depend upon the hierarchy for their welfare. They would sooner be slaves to their house than free outcasts. But I will not be among them. I will continue to live as I choose to live, for I am a true heretic. The gods of House Ironlatch hold no dominion over my soul.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy introspection is disrupted by Gustabbian\u2019s clapping hands. A call to order. A call to silence. \u201cClear the plates. Bring forth the girls,\u201d he commands.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGrime besmeared servants spill forth from the doorways, gathering up the scraps, the dishes, and bearing froth-capped pitchers of ale that they poured into the proffered cups of Ironlatch\u2019s many thanes. Then the dancers come forth. Slinky. Seductive in their movements, in their very being, climbing upon the tables to entertain the warriors who froth as surely as their cups.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou may have one of them, if you wish.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI beg your pardon?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThe dancers. You may have one. Oh, just for the night, of course. But you may, you may. Don\u2019t be modest.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSuch is the drighten\u2019s madness. All men are chattels to him. Be they thane or dancing maiden, they are but an object to be added to his hoard, a collection to be displayed in expression of his greatness. Now Gustabbian has exerted his power over me. I am become just another of his trophies, to be paraded about and exploited to the fullest extent.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo, my liege,\u201d I must be careful with formalities. Gustabbian must keep face in front of his minions and will take me to task for any missteps.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo? No, you say? You do not like women?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI have no need of your dancers, Drighten.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThen you have one of your own?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGive as little information as necessary. \u201cI have no need.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAre you a heretic or a monk?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI thought I was a heretic no longer, if you will recall. You are my liege now, are you not?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIndeed so, Castor. Indeed.\u201d He sounds amused. \u201cI am your liege. So monk you must be,\u201d he pronounces. \u201cNo women for you then, my celibate thane. We must get you a habit, that you might look the part.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIf you so command.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI do like the sound of that!\u201d He roars and suppresses a laugh. \u201cAnd now that you mention it, monk, I shall require any and all information you may have on The Great House. For that matter, I shall require all the information you may have on all the houses.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nDefensive. Hackles rising. \u201cI cannot do that,\u201d I state levelly. It would destroy what might remain of my reputation after this debacle. Yet opposing him openly before his minions exposes me to strict repercussions. I must be careful.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou can and you must for, as you put it, I am now your liege. I should hate to resume this talk in the Chambers of Truth.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou would torture me?\u201d I rage. And my hand drifts unconsciously to the comforting grip of my sword.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHo, of course not my friend,\u201d he flashes a smile, quick as the girls who dance on the tables. \u201cFor you will give the information freely. There shall be no need for such inconveniences. Still, I desire to communicate my seriousness in this matter.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIf you will not torture me then you will not have my knowledge.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut I may have it then?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn a level tone I say, \u201cYou misjudge me, Drighten.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGustabbian chuckles now, almost a cluck. \u201cGood man, Castor. You have passed the test. This is how I know I can trust you. You are not the common mercenary. I will divulge to you my plan. Later. In my study.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe study is an annex of the writing room, buried under the piled stone of the midcity and within ancient permacrete vaults. It is cramped but comfortable, sheltered by a labyrinthian array of bookcases laden with the timeworn tomes of some forgotten era&#8211;plenty of space for assassins to lurk. The room smells of moldering parchment, stale smoke. Buglamps glow brightly on end tables situated between padded armchairs that are arranged in the nucleus of the room. \u201cSit,\u201d Gustabbian instructs me, and I do so. \u201cWould you care for some brandy?\u201d he says, opening up a small liquor cabinet.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo, thank you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSuit yourself.\u201d He produces an aged bottle and a single glass, then pours himself a drink. He sips it and issues a sound of relieved satisfaction. He shifts, settling into the plush chair before speaking again. \u201cNow that we are alone,\u201d he begins. But are we alone? I wonder, peering about inconspicuously into the maze of book-lined shelves, trying to see through the stacks into the dusky recesses beyond. Do my assassins linger there? Do they see me? Looking into the warm glow shed by the little lamps? Do they merge darkly with the shadows, watching? Can they hear my voice drifting through the baffles of crumbling paper and dust-cloaked board? Even now are they waiting? Waiting for me to take any misstep? To make any abrupt move, or assume an aggressive posture towards he who holds the leash? Perhaps now they study the shape of my cloak as it falls over the pommel of my sword, the glint of buglight upon the sharp points of my helm. Perhaps their breath comes in slow, meditative waves as they ponder my demise.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt could be they are anxious. They want me to move out of turn, to take actions against their master that they might spring forth from obscurity to sever my veins and cleave my limbs. That is what they want.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe may discuss your mission,\u201d Gustabbian intrudes upon my abstraction.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOf course,\u201d I say in a rasp.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe nods. It is a solemn motion, as if in preparation to discuss this matter he must invoke some special reverence which has been reserved for this moment. \u201cFellbrook has a manticore.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe reverence of the moment descends upon me as well. Indeed, it is as though the entire study, complete with its pregnant shadows, were thrown under the mortician\u2019s pall. Breath stops in its slow, sensuous kiss of the air. Sound seems to become lodged in the throat of time. Only my heartbeat carries with it the vital immediacy of life, stamping out the long seconds in solitude. At length, Gustabbian resumes. \u201cThey have a manticore,\u201d he repeats, as if to make sure I had appreciated the gravity of the statement. \u201cIf they have learned how to properly control it\u2026\u201d he lets the conclusion die in the air.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThen you want me to stop them. Me and your warriors.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYour warriors, Castor. They shall be your warriors.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThis is a grave request.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s not a request,\u201d Gustabbian says flatly. \u201cIt is my bidding.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBe that as it may\u2014\u201c\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMy arse! A manticore. Gods damn it!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHere and I thought I was the heretic.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThis is no juncture for a glib tongue!\u201d He almost spits the words.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI laugh a little. A low, grizzly laugh that almost hangs like chimes in the wind. \u201cYou fear your own doom, my friend. But Fellbrook is the greatest house hereabouts and such a move against you would surely galvanize the minor houses, unify them against such a monster.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI smile within my helmet and I know it goes unseen. Unseen by Gustabbian. Unseen by his skulking watchers. Unseen even by the gods. It is another of my own, secret things. I smile for myself alone. For my own enjoyment. \u201cYou seek to tempt the dragon,\u201d I say euphemistically. \u201cYou will push their hand, force them to attack you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe says nothing.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat is a very dangerous approach,\u201d I tell him, my voice now calm and severe. \u201cYou would force them to move against you, that you might rally the other houses behind your banner.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe nods, sullen.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow many others know of this?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow would I know? I was hoping you might tell me, but your oath binds your lips, it would seem.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI can tell you in all confidence that I have heard no such intelligence, rumor or otherwise, to that effect. I thought the manticores were extinct, the last of them destroyed generations ago.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd perhaps they were,\u201d agrees Gustabbian. \u201cPerhaps the sorcerers of Fellbrook have discovered a way of reviving them.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIf indeed that is the case it does not bode well. Who knows how many revenants they might have uncovered. How many such creatures they may be willing to unleash.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAye.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThey must be stopped. The biovores were purged for a reason, during the Cyborg Wars.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI have heard of these \u2018Cyborg Wars,\u2019\u201d he includes the manifold volumes, the stacks and nooks with a broad spread of the arms. \u201cYet I know so little about them. They are only mentioned in several books I have read.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThe whole affair is somewhat arcane,\u201d I preface. \u201cThe chimera and biovores were forms of weapon. Beasts of war controlled by the magi of many centuries hence. There were a series of devastating wars to put a stop to that madness. The midcity hails from the labors of that period.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat know you of the manticore itself?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI know it is a fearsome monster, indeed.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes, that, to be sure. What do you know?\u201d He fixes me with the most level, burning stare that holds a promise of threat. A menacing gaze. Tell me, I read in the lines of his face, or I will end your life now.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI know only that it is one of the chimerae, a creature fashioned from many.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThere is something more, something you are not telling me. My own scholars, mind you, have been able to identify the creature from accounts. You, I know, are something of a dabbler in lore. I trust you might be able to assist them with something more than merely appending a name to a description. We must learn how to kill it and we must do so before Fellbrook has a chance to strike.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBefore Fellbrook has a chance to strike another house? You wish to goad them. To draw them into a battle with you. If you can unify the other houses behind your cause and overcome Fellbrook\u2019s monster you will demonstrate your capability to the gentry.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou are the cutting intellect, Castor.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAye, it\u2019s why you need me, that and my lore. And my skill. And, most importantly, my allegiance. It is not enough for you to defeat Fellbrook with a mercenary. You need a house victory, pure and clean, to carry your publicity campaign.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cQuite astute. You\u2019ve figured it all out, except you still fail to tell what you know of the monster itself.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI have told you. It is one of the chimerae, a biovore that feeds upon the life-energy of its environs to sustain its own being. Some attribute such beasts with the destruction of the forsaken lands themselves. Beyond that, tales are vague. No one alive today has faced one. I dare say, few before have faced one and lived. But what I have found is that it is winged; that is sure. Some would say it has the aspect of a great cat, others that of a man. It has a terrible tail that stings and ensures death at a distance. I would have to do specific research on the subject.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThen you shall study with my advisors. I have no sorcerers in my employ; you know that. You may be the closest I can muster.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI will look at this with your scholars.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd you will fight it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI will, not because it is your will but because it is my own.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe scholars present me with many texts. We lock ourselves away in Gustabbian\u2019s study and pore over the musty books. We scour them for mention of the monster; we scour every chronicle and beastiary, every oblique reference. Any scrap of information.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAt last we uncover forgotten sketches tucked away in a mammoth volume, corroborating reports in another, and antique scrolls recounting its horror.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMost of the information is useless to us. But buried even in the most indirect references are kernels of insight. From the details of wounds inflicted by the creature we imagine how it fights. From drawings and plates we extrapolate its anatomy. From tales of daring we glean its weaknesses. And I know how to defeat it. Only I. But it shall require a certain relic. I do not tell the others. They believe it is some daemon, some supernatural creation. And mayhap it is.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI slip out.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt\u2019s nighttime again and the moons are high, but their light hardly filters down to the midcity where I emerge. The tremendous bulk of stone, mortar and timbers looms above with an almost tangible weight. And the accreted masses of the uppercity above them, blocking out the lambent glow of the celestial sphere, encrustations grown over time. The uppercity, with its lofty emplacements and sky-gouging spires stands triumphantly over the midcity with its aged halls and stacked tiers, leftovers from the wars of our ancestors.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI have had to sneak.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGustabbian does not trust me. Not truly. Not like he says.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNo. He fears me. And that is the difference. The difference between faith and fright. He keeps me close, or tries to do so, because I represent the embodiment of his phobias. Keep your enemies closer.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI climb the aged stories; I descend the weathered thoroughfares. I maneuver through the ancient ways. Yet the undercity lies beneath and it is more ancient still.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFinally I come to my hidden passage. A mere seam among seams in the great blocks and the molded permacrete, the secret of which was lost before the oldest books were conceived of. And I must pause and peer into the night shadows, which are deep and wide this low in the city. Immense swaths of black drape the surrounds. Alcoves are clothed in dark swaths and nocturnal alleyways are lost in velvety pitch. Inscrutable.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI can only doubt that I have evaded the stalkers who would learn my secrets.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI leave the enchanted amulet concealed within the folds of my clothing.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe forlorn lands. Will they follow me thither? Few would dare. It is no place for Man.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGustabbian will be angry. Furious. Dawn is breaking, shattering into myriad shimmering shards of color upon the celestial sphere and I have yet to even reach the limits of civilization. I will be gone for days.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAgain night is falling. I have trekked all through the day as the sun shone down like a brilliant emerald lodged in the heavens. Now Vox and Nox are peeking out of the gathering folds of dusk, winking like pale sapphires in the gloaming sky. And I can see the degenerate sprawl of the forsaken lands. They await, broken and desolate, the home of renegades, outlaws, heretics. Only the most depraved and the most desperate dare to go there.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI pick through the crumbling ruins and the expanse of dust and ragged plants that grow haggard in the desert clime. Zora\u2019s abode is not far now.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI see it on the horizon. It is full night, the landscape draped in a stygian gloom. But a small light glimmers, hanging in the stagnant air from a small metal hook at the entrance to Zora\u2019s home. It is a falling tower, a remnant of some lost age. It slouches in the gloom like some sad, forsaken thing slowly returning to the earth. There are few windows, but they are alive with light. I pass the lantern, a buglamp pulsing with ethereal luminescence, the liquid light of glowing insects.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI pound on the door with a coded rhythm so she will know it is me. Loud, dull thuds sound as the bolts are undone and the crossbar is lifted. The door slowly opens and a metallic object greets me in the small aperture as the door parts its jamb. One can never be too cautious.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cCome on,\u201d she whispers harshly through the gap.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI step inside and she slams the door shut behind me, relocking it.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI see you still have the carving beam.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes. It comes in handy.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHave you ever had to use it?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe regards me with a level, lovely look beneath auburn curls. Her skin is a pale gray and her eyes are pools of dark mahogany. \u201cWhere have you been?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s a tale for the telling,\u201d I say evasively.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIf you have the time to tell it then you might as well start.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGustabbian wants me to fight a manticore.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou mustn\u2019t.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHouse Fellbrook will move, if Gustabbian\u2019s reports are to be trusted. He claims the great house has tamed the monster.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSo, let them move,\u201d she says, sidestepping me and setting down the small cylindrical weapon on a small table before going into the kitchen. \u201cAre you hungry?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cFamished. I have been travelling since last night.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou did not take your secret routes? They are faster.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI was afraid to use them. Gustabbian has a tail on me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat for? I thought you are helping him.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHe wants my secrets. I know that.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd you think he will leave you in peace if you aid in with the creature?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI hesitate, digging deep within my soul to find an honest answer. \u201cNo,\u201d I say at last. \u201cI do not believe it will make any difference.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThen why do you help him? We can take out his goons right now, together.\u201d Her voice is level, collected. I adore her.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI help him for balance. There must be strife between the houses. There is no place for a mercenary without rivalry, after all. Fellbrook would be too powerful. With a manticore they can conquer all the lesser houses with ease unless something is done preemptively. Gustabbian is willing to do that.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes, he is,\u201d she says, chewing on a succulent. \u201cBecause it will advance his status amongst the other houses.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou are right,\u201d I confess. \u201cNevertheless, something must be done. A terror like the manticore cannot be allowed to be unleashed upon Asylum.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe screws up her face, placing a hand to her chin in contemplation. \u201cBut why must it be you, Castor? I could swear you have an affair with danger. Sometimes I think you romance death more than you romance me. It is not worth the risk. What do you get out of it?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAcclaim.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut at what expense.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHe has inducted me into his house.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s even worse! What are you thinking?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI am thinking that Fellbrook must be stopped, and had I not agreed to join Ironlatch I would now be dead.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cCare to explain?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGustabbian surrounded me with men. I was forced to join.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt will destroy your reputation. You won\u2019t be seen as impartial with such deliberate ties to a house. You will ruin us. Quit this exploit. Let Gustabbian\u2019s goons come. We will best them.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThe beast still needs to be stopped. Fellbrook can\u2019t be allowed to overpower the other houses.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThen let Gustabbian down. Do not tie yourself so intimately to any one house. It is foolish.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI am afraid it is too late.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow so? How is it too late?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI have already pledged myself to Ironlatch.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThen un-pledge,\u201d she insists, crossing her arms in a way that is at once wroth and seductive.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI cannot. I have given my word.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou and your word,\u201d she huffs. \u201cFine. But heed me. This cannot end well for us.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI bow my head. \u201cYou may be right.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI know I am,\u201d she declares, placing fists on generous hips.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI smile and remove my helmet.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt would be easier to stay angry with you if you weren\u2019t so handsome,\u201d she says. Then, in a gentler tone, \u201cYou know that he is only using you, right?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI nod my understanding. \u201cThat does not mean I won\u2019t use him as well.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh? And how do you plan on doing that?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI will find a way to make use of this situation.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh, come on, Castor! That\u2019s such malarkey. What\u2019s your plan?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI think you\u2019re missing the bigger picture.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThere\u2019s no way the lesser houses will not rally together, whether Gustabbian actively tries to unite them or not.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou\u2019re right about that.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes; again, I know I am.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut what?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThere is something to be said for establishing a strong rapport with the winner. Ironlatch stands to gain quite a lot of place in this gambit. It makes sense to align with Gustabbian.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWould you have come to that conclusion on your own, if he hadn\u2019t forced you into it? Or are you just trying to justify your own helplessness?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI am never helpless, Zora.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMaybe not,\u201d she puts a finger to her lips. \u201cStill, I think if your options were more open you would view the situation differently.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s probably so; however, they are not, and one must accept the lot he is given.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAcceptance has never been your strong suit. There\u2019s more to this than you are letting on.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLike I said, the bigger picture. If Fellbrook conquers the other houses, if empire can be established, that puts us out, cripples us. I thrive on conflict between the houses. My livelihood depends on it. We cannot allow any single power to rule.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI am aware of that. It is your official tie to a single house that concerns me. You might just as easily insinuate yourself into this battle without formally joining any house. What use is a freelancer who is affiliated with a single faction?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI do not think it will prove as much of an impediment as you seem to believe. Any time I work with any house I tie myself to it, if only temporarily. This is no less temporary. I shall make sure of that. Or perhaps I won\u2019t. It is possible Gustabbian will gain too much in this altercation.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd then what will you do? Become his lap dog and leave me here to languish in the barrens?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt should go without saying that I would not do that.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt should. Yes. But\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut nothing. That will not happen,\u201d I declare, stepping forward and slipping an arm about her waist to pull her close to me. I press my nose into the auburn hair that falls over her ear and say, \u201cI swear it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe pulls away a bit, fixing me with an acid stare. \u201cI\u2019m asking you not to do this. Do not be tied to Ironlatch. It is asking for trouble. Gustabbian will know he can control you. After word gets out, other houses will not want to work with you for fear that you are in too tightly with Gus, that their dealings will make their way back to him.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI do not violate my code. That is well known. I have a solid reputation.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cFor now. You know this will damage it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI have worried over that.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd for good reason!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIf I back out now, relations with Gustabbian may be irreparably damaged.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cCan you defeat the monster? Tell me truly.\u201d Her pupils transfix my own as though they seek to burrow into the pith of my brain.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI can.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThen whatever house you choose to aid shall win the day. Take what you have learned\u2014\u201c\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI must not.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhy?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIf I backstab Gustabbian I\u2019ll lose respect among the gentry; I will become as any other petty, cutthroat mercenary.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd if you do not?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI say nothing, so she continues.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd if not, you become a lackey that no one else can deposit good faith in.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou exaggerate.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI do no such thing. Your reputation will be ruined as surely as these forsaken lands.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI release her and turn away. My gaze lingers over the battery of bolts, chains, pads and bars upon the door. They are brassy and clean, well-polished, reflecting the ambient light of the room with a mirror finish. They are possibly the most well-maintained objects in view. Everything else reeks of age, decay, the degradation of the forsaken lands which seems to rake all within its perimeter into its fate. Time sloughs away like flesh, I cogitate. The forsaken lands steal the time away, entire, drag the world down into the dust with it. I lower my head and set about unfastening my cloak. Zora steps in close behind me and lifts the heavy, lank thing from my shoulders. \u201cThen what shall I do? What is your thinking?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMy thinking is that you rebel against Gustabbian. You want to give no one such control over you. Take the matter to a rival house and negotiate a deal on your own terms.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI wait for a moment before I speak and the words roll off my tongue like mercury. \u201cAll right. I will do as you ask.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe crash from the windows is startling. Black-clad shadows bursting forth from the shattered casements. The irony being she placed such importance upon the door while leaving the windows wide.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe first shadow rushes at me with a glint of steel. I leap back, evading the first lunge. I knock away the weapon then strike the shadow in the face. It does not go down. It hisses and spits in my face, striking me in return when I blink. Again we exchange blows. The shadow tries to grapple me, efforts to lock my arm in a bone-breaking trap. I hook a foot about its ankle and trip it. It falls to the ground and in the next instant my sword sings forth from its scabbard and the shadow is writhing, blood staining my blade.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTwo more.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nQuickly I snatch the carving beam from the small table and I drop it into my pocket as I turn my attention to them. While one wrestles with the many locks, the other is dragging Zora to the door. A knife is held to her throat. \u201cCome no closer,\u201d the shadow croaks. \u201cOr she dies. Surrender,\u201d it says.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhat are these shadows? Wraiths? Living shades that persecute Man. Or some biological nightmare revived from mist-shrouded chapter of history? \u201cLet her go,\u201d I demand, knowing, even as I speak that my words shall not be heeded. The shadows have no reason to listen.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNever,\u201d sibilates the shadow.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nDefeat wafts over me like a foul odor. I throw down my sword.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe skeleton of time becomes a little more bare and I sit once again in Gustabbian\u2019s demesne. Diabolical implements, horrid, tortuous devices filling the space with the torturer\u2019s tools as might a blacksmith\u2019s shop be filled with the trappings of his vocation. Dried blood stains the walls and sits in congealed pools in the corners. It glistens darkly in the pale light of a solitary candle.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI am shackled to a chair in the center of the room and the two shadowlings recede from the chamber, leaving me alone with a black-robed old man.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHere today,\u201d says the old man, pulling back his hood to reveal a shock of ghost-white hair and a row of gapped, rotting teeth. \u201cTee hee,\u201d he cackles, \u201cGone tomorrow.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI test my bonds, finding that they are well secured. The cold iron manacles weigh against my wrists, dragging at the skin. The old man\u2019s rattle merges with that of the chains. Leisurely he strides over to a small cart with castform shelves, an artifact from eons past. From it he selects a cruel-looking instrument, a pair of something like pliers. \u201cDo you know what we do to traitors, Thane? No? We make examples of them. Then we make eunuchs out of them. Then we make heretics out of them.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI am a heretic already.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe old torturer cackles again. \u201cYou save us the trouble, yes? Yes. You save us the trouble. You will see what we do to traitors. And you will see what we do to spies. You will see, you will. You will feel what we do to traitors. You will feel what we do to spies. And you will tell us. You will tell us what we wants to hear. You will answer us.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019ll tell you nothing.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThen you will bleed. You will cry. You will call out in our ecstasy. Our joy. But your misery. You will be miserable until you depart this plane.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI spit at the old man. He looks furious for an instant before he regains his composure, stepping in close to loom over me, glowering, gripping the pliers threateningly with whitish knuckles. He takes my head firmly and presses the instrument into my mouth. The feeling is so chilling I can almost hear it as the pliers clamp down on one of my teeth. Then the pain hits as the tooth splinters.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNow is the time. Before I am in too much pain to act.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI grip the carving beam which I stowed in my pocket, activating its magic. The beam rips out through my clothing, slicing into the torturer\u2019s leg. He collapses, hard. I let the beam loose again. Its searing bolt laps at the torturer\u2019s other leg, burning his foot from his body to leave a smoldering stump. The torturer cries out in anguish, but the shadowlings do not come to his aid; they must believe it is I who screams.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWith a deft flick I turn the beam to my bonds. The iron turns incandescent, then melts away in molten runnels that radiate furnace heat. It sets my clothes alight and I swiftly busy myself with smothering the flames before returning my attention to the prone torturer. \u201cSpeak only what I tell you,\u201d I say in a sharp, incisive whisper.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe ignores my command, instead calling for help. In a trice I am up against the span of wall adjacent to the door, listening as the bar is lifted on the outside and the leaf opens with a loud creak. The first shadowling bounds inside, pivoting in midair to face me. I point the wand at it and release its power, but it fades too closely. The shadowling is too far away for the artifact to kill it. Nonetheless, the shadowlings\u2019 black garb is singed and the wearer releases an inhuman howl of pain before pouncing upon me. I squeeze the actuator again and cut into my assailant as it strikes me. I keep the beam trained upon the shadowling and it begins to writhe and grope at its abdomen where the mystic beam burns. Its howls become frantic. It falls to the flags and squirms. Then the last shadowling leaps in over the smoking body of the first. Again I squeeze the wand, but its magic has been spent. The brilliant beam flares into existence but dies, fading out in a wink before any real damage is done. I throw down the chrome cylinder and brace for the leaping shadowling. I grasp its arms and I feel the almost preternatural strength there.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHissing. A small roar. A snap of clamping teeth. We tumble to the floor. I catch the shadowling\u2019s head with a well-placed elbow. In a panicked instant I roll to my feet, in the same motion, as if capturing the latent momentum in my motion I grasp my witchlight. I dig my thumb into the soft circular switch. It flashes on. A magic torch shining its rays into the shadowling\u2019s face; and there I see the hideousness that lies within the black cowl. I see that sickly glint, that scabrous, squamous, ophidian flesh and orbs like sickle-carved amber.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn that fleeting moment of distraction I strike the creature\u2019s foul head with the witchlight and drive a boot firmly into its chest, shoving it away from me. Hurriedly I grope for some of the torturer\u2019s instruments, flinging the pointed objects at my opponent. But without avail, for the blades are turned aside by its scaled hide. It regains its equilibrium and pounces, but not before I grab a pronged skewer that I hold out before me. The shadowling impales itself upon the needle-sharp points. I thrust forward, backing the lepidote horror into the stone wall and forcing the skewer forward until the creature\u2019s bones collapse under the tremendous force. It slumps, lifeless, to the floor.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBlood is pouring from my mouth. I am sick to my stomach, nauseous from all I have swallowed. My jaw is badly swollen; my entire mandible is a surging drum beating with the quickened beat of my heart. The pain nearly engulfs me, sweeps me away on waves of agony.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI gasp; I spit crimson and fragments of tooth as I walk over to the languishing torturer. \u201cWhere is Zora?\u201d I demand. \u201cWhere was she taken?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe torturer grins, a glister of wild madness in his eye and a peal of likewise laughter strangling his response through gritted teeth.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI have my answer, but I do not bother to thank him for directions. Quickly I dash out, into a hallway that is filled with bilious buglight. I find Zora\u2019s cell standing ajar with a stocky figure blocking the way.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m impressed,\u201d the deep, baritone voice of Gustabbian says. \u201cYou killed three of them, dismembered your gaoler. Chained. You bested those, too.\u201d He claps in a lackadaisical, somewhat mocking sort of way. \u201cResourceful monk. Some might call you blessed, if they didn\u2019t know better. I was hoping to get some information out of you for my trouble. But no matter. You have proven yourself and earned another chance at freedom.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cExplain,\u201d I mumble, speaking softly around the pain.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI have the woman, Castor.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHer name is Zora.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell. Whatever. She is my prisoner. If you want to see her freed, then you will slay the manticore. In the name of House Ironlatch, of course.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOf course.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cShould you refuse I will not try again to torture you. I will not even have you killed. You may call me generous. You will be released, but Zora will be sacrificed on the Altar of Rosha.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI feel my cheeks getting warm as the blood flushes upon my face and the hammer of pain increases its rhythm upon my mandible. \u201cAnd if I do not?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIf you do not refuse? You will either succeed or you will die. But if you do not succeed, Zora will be mine to do with as I please.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cExplain,\u201d I grumble.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI may kill her, still. Offer her up to my god. Or I may keep her. As a slave. Maybe as a personal slave. I shall decide when, and if, the time comes. So, what do you choose, Castor?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI will try. I will battle the monster.\u201d My sigh is almost audible.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGood. Then you will still have your warriors.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI have conditions.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh? You? You have conditions? I don\u2019t believe you are in any condition to\u2014\u201c\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIf you want the beast slain, then heed me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cVery well. What is your condition?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cConditions. I must be allowed once more into the ruins, into the forsaken lands.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou wish to return to your woman\u2019s hovel.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAye.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat for? Excuse me for being circumspect.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou will have to trust me in the matter.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe laughs. \u201cNo, I think not. Given the circumstances I am sure you will understand. So either explain to me why such a jaunt is justified or leave if you want, but you know what shall befall your beloved.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI require a certain relic which I have stored there.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat do you need this relic for?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTo defeat the manticore. If you hope for any success in the undertaking.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDo as you will. I have what leverage I need. I will not even send an escort. We attack tomorrow. If you do not return in time we shall enjoy the ritual after battle. What is your other condition?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAfter it is done, I must return to my independence.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI wonder if I am followed still, with the shadowlings defeated. Is some new threat lurking beyond my sight? Some new enemy that stalks and watches and waits to report my secrets to Gustabbian? Probably. No escort? Unlikely. Just none that I am to know about.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOne day. Impossible. Even with my secret ways it could not be done.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut maybe there is another, quicker way.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI seek out Gavian. He is a mancer of House Homegard. I find him in his laboratory, after gaining clearance at the gatehouse. The guards know me there, for I have long sought Gavian\u2019s counsel.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGreetings, old friend,\u201d I say by way of announcement.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cCastor! What a fine surprise, indeed. How are you, my lad? To what do I owe this visit?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI need to ask you a favor.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAh hah,\u201d he remarks, pressing the spectacles up the bridge of his nose where they have slipped in the thin sheen of sweat that leaks from his pores. The lab is hot, with fires burning under enormous iron cauldrons. \u201cI might have guessed as much. Hah. What can I do you for? I will help if I can.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI must journey to the desert. Swiftly.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThen go. Hurry, lad.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI cannot make use of my usual methods of transit,\u201d I tell him.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSo, you need transportation, yes?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes. That is correct. I must go to the forsaken lands and return inside of two days.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes, yes, you should listen, lad. I said I would help. And you\u2019re in luck. I have just the thing.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe dactl is saddled.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt tosses its head as I climb upon its back. A flick of the reins and leathern wings beat at the air, lifting us into the wind. We ride the convection winds up, up and rapidly even the uppercity recedes beneath me, its spires rushing past, ultimately to dwindle below us. The sun is bright through the celestial sphere, the glow of which pales as the daylight streams down in viridian rays. We soar upon the thermals, leagues and demesnes passing beneath us until the verticality the cityscape yields to the broken waste of the forsaken lands.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAt Zora\u2019s abode I enter the basement. It is dark, musty and fortified. And therein I locate what I seek.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe flight back wracks my nerves, for I can feel the time ticking incessantly towards my future. A future in which Zora\u2019s life depends upon my encounter with a blight that was believed to be quelled long ago. The cityscape below is a patchwork of demesnes, each with their own distinctive character. The uppermost portions reach up for the sky, reach up for me as if they seek to bar my way, to reach up like stone fingers and grasp me from the sky. But they fail and soon I have done the improbable. I have journeyed to the forsaken lands and back in a single day. Yet the dactyl tires of flight. It grows weary, even as Fellbrook Demesne grows near. A forest of vertical structures glides by below until a great shelf of masonry comes into view. It is a lofty summit, a plateau of stone and mortar presiding over the midcity like a great, artificial escarpment, and upon it the armies are placed. Am I just in time, or am I too late? I scour the ranks and files below until I spy the rusty brown banners of House Ironlatch.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGracefully the dactyl wheels like a circling raptor in its descent, alighting before Gustabbian\u2019s forces. Gwayne hails me and approaches at a quick pace. \u201cCastor, by the gods, you\u2019ve made it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes, but just barely it seems.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThe warriors of House Harkweal have already engaged the monster. Their units have been broken like so many stones cast into the abyss. The beast, it rains death down upon them at a distance. House Homeguard has harried the creature from afar with dactyl knights and yet it burned them from the sky with the beam of scorching light that leaps from its tail. There is no way to fight such a terror!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI see him surveying the relic, a concave shield with immaculate mirror finish. \u201cThere is a way, and I will see to it. Gwayne, rally your warriors. Bring them to meet me at the manticore.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt is suicide.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt is not, I hope. \u201cJust do it,\u201d I say and spur the dactyl once more into the air.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAt last I see it. The manticore. Yet the dactyl is flagging. It can go no farther. In a desperate effort, as we begin to plummet towards the monster, I pull the dactyl into a mad dive. Wind whistles past my ears and whips my clothes about. They flap and beat against my sides, going fluk-fluk-fluk as we close with the horrifying creature that swats warriors as a cat might swat its prey. The dactl unleashes an eviscerating scream before it careens into the manticore.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI am tossed from the saddle. The pavement slaps me hard as I fall, but lithely I roll to my feet, shield in hand. I am winded by the fall and pain still pounds in my jaw. I can taste the blood coursing from my destroyed tooth, but it does not matter. It\u2019s irrelevant. What matters is now.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI am on my feet and I feel the grit beneath my boots. I smell the urban stench that forever billows up from the undercity. Sweat and clothing cling to me like dew to The Sphere. I heft my shield and feel the hilt of my sword in calloused hands. I eye the beast, which glowers at me in return with malignant eyes. Its wings scatter warriors like leaves on the wind. Its fangs are like sabers and its claws are lances with which to impale its foes. Its tail is an elevated thing terminating in a cruel stinger that deals death from afar, carving a flaming path with the beam it emits. It looms over me, a great colossus of muscle and fur and armored plates. I can smell the stench of its breath, which wafts over me in warm, rank waves even at this range.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe scene that surrounds me is a hellscape. Warriors from all the lesser houses charge at the chimeric monstrosity only to be cut down by its tail at a distance, hurled into the ranks by devastating claws or gruesomely caught in mighty, fanged jaws. I merely stand, studying the creature\u2019s movements, the almost rhythmic strokes of its tail.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI draw one last breath. I can smell death in the air. The time is now. It can be no other.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI loose a fearsome battle-cry and charge ahead, pounding on the shield with the flat of my sword. I have its attention. It glowers at me still; even more intensely now, though I did not believe it possible. I am transfixed by those slitted orbs. The tail sways, slaughtering as it moves, until it is trained upon me. I raise my shield\u2014and the beam breaks upon the reflective relic, bending back onto the creature itself. Perspiration breaks out upon my brow and I squint against the saline rivulets that moisten my face. Time seems to freeze. The carnage slows as the monster trains all its attention upon me. I carefully tilt the shield to redirect the beam, and the monster releases a deafening snarl of pain as its own weapon traces a smoldering line across its face. Farther and the beam cripples a wing. Yet the creature does not relent. Still that brilliant ray of death focuses upon my shield, which grows hot and begins to warp upon my arm. I tilt it further, until the beam intersects the manticore\u2019s own tail. It is an abomination, but not invulnerable. The monster flails as its stinger falls, inert, severed by its own power, with a thud that is lost in the profound cry of anguish that escapes the creature\u2019s maw. I fling away the melting relic before my arm is crippled by it. I inhale deeply, watching while the creature lashes about as might a drowning man. \u201cAttack!\u201d I cry, in an effort to outdo the clangor of war. I step forward, evading the wild sweeps of the manticore\u2019s limbs and the dismembered tail as it tosses fitfully, showering gore upon the armies. I swing at the creature\u2019s neck. I feel resistance in the blade as the impact travels through my gauntlets. Again the manticore roars, recoiling with trauma, and in that moment of chaos Gwayne appears with his warriors. With a fevered battlecry they rush at the creature. The clamor of clanking armor buffets my ears as they march past at a canter. They strike and leap upon the monster. They cling to it like so many ants to a bread crumb, stabbing and cutting even as they scale its colossal bulk.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt is a matter of seconds before a hush of awe descends over the battlefield as the enormous carcass slumps to the paving stones and conflict ceases momentarily.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAfter a moment of shock the lesser houses unleash a vast, collective shout of triumph. The warriors of Fellbrook are stunned and disheartened by the sudden loss. Many turn to flee. Others gape amazed and demoralized at their bested weapon. The tide has changed. Gwayne\u2019s warriors and I cut a severe rent into the dejected enemy. Our enemies break like rock beneath the miner\u2019s hammer.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFellbrook is in retreat and we are marching from the great plateau with gladness in our hearts.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGustabbian!\u201d I call as we return, surrounded by the minions of every lesser house. \u201cI have done as you commanded. I have bested the manticore. It is time to return Zora and me to our freedom.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThere you are wrong, Castor. I shall return Zora to you; but we shall see, once this war is at its end, whether you seek to leave our ranks.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou must honor our bargain.\u201d I spit the words.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd I have every intention of doing so. Just not right now. I still have uses for you, thane.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI am no thane, Gustabbian. I am a heretic.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cEntertain your petty delusions all you like, Castor. But you shall remain in my employ, for the time being. Remember. I know where your precious Zora lives.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI should have guessed. Ire rushes through me, a hot coil singing my soul. \u201cI will not abide your treachery,\u201d I say, taking a step forward as I draw up my shoulders in wrath.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGwayne! Take this malcontent into custody.\u201d To me he says, \u201cYou shall do as you are told. Perhaps a fortnight in the dungeons will teach you some deference. \u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGwayne breaks rank, stepping determinedly forward. \u201cI shall not do it, Gustabbian. I followed this man into battle. He went up, bravely, against the most daunting foe this house, or any other, has ever seen. His reward for stemming the monster\u2019s rampage shall not be shackles.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou, Gwayne, are in contempt. You are a traitor to your house.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd you are a traitor to your word,\u201d I say.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cArrest him!\u201d Gustabbian points accusingly at me. \u201cArrest them both!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNo one of House Ironlatch moves, yet many from the other houses begin to intercede. It looks like a riot might be forming, as many small scuffles break out. But, at length it is Gwayne who speaks above the mounting ruckus. \u201cI invoke the rite of challenge. As is my right.\u201d A great unanimous gasp rises above the armies as men and women back away from the drighten and his challenger. \u201cFace me, Gustabbian. And should I be defeated I shall bend to your will, no matter how debauched. But should I best you in single combat, it shall be my will that is heeded this day!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA ring has formed around them. A storm of shouting erupts from the onlookers, chanting for the duel to commence. Yet Gustabbian blithely looks about himself and shrugs as if to say, \u201cThis is nothing. I am not perturbed in the least.\u201d He says,\u201cI will not fight you, Gwayne.\u201d He steps close to his thane and looks him directly in the eye. \u201cHave I not been a father to you? Did I not raise you both in fact and in status? Where would you be were it not for the kindness I have shown you? You would be a ragged pauper, a mere peasant. It is I you must thank for your every good fortune, for it is only by virtue of my kindness that you enjoy the life that you now live. Yet this is how you repay me. I will not stand for such a betrayal.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGwayne hesitates a moment before he responds in a solemn tone. \u201cIt is true. You have been as a father to me. You were, for many years. But now you are like one possessed. You have grown twisted and intoxicated with power. This display you have shown today will not be countenanced. If we are not to duel then you must abdicate.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI raise you up from nothing and you seek to depose me!\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou have demonstrated that you are unfit to rule. The injustice you have displayed here today is unacceptable. Step down now or confront me in the honorable tradition.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo mercenary is worth an insurrection,\u201d Gustabbian bellows. \u201cForget this foolish venture, Gwayne. I will release Castor from his oath, if it means so much.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo,\u201d Gwayne says. \u201cIt is too late for that now. This matter is between us. Do not force me to slay you. Step down. Now.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWith a tear in his eye Gustabbian lowers his gaze. \u201cVery well. If I have no other recourse, I must surrender the mantle of drighten to you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHissing and booing at his cowardice bombards my ears. But Gustabbian would never give up so easily, would never give up his reign with so little resistance. Even if his situation were dire. Is he up to something? Is this another deception? I am attentive to his every move, his every subtle twitch. The two men step close, clasping arms in consummation of their pact. Then I see it. The dagger Gustabbian cleverly slips from his robes. In a fateful decision he raises the weapon and makes to strike. But I lunge forward, grasping his wrist.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThen I hurl him to the ground.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGwayne takes a hurried step back. \u201cHe would have stabbed me! I am in your debt.\u201d He looks to Gustabbian, who lies upon the flagstones. \u201cThe pact has been sealed. Thus you are drighten no longer. In recognition of all you have done for me, I will not have you executed, but for your craven attempt on my life I shall sentence you to lifelong imprisonment. Take him,\u201d Gwayne commands the warriors of House Ironlatch. After a pause, several step forward to lead Gustabbian away in bonds. Gwayne says to me, \u201cThank you, Castor, for all you have done. I hate to see you leave us. I hope the two of us can move forward in good faith.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe\u2019ll see. I never got paid for my last job.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAs drighten, I will see to it that you are compensated. And then some. As for the monster it is sure we would never have defeated it without your help. For that, I extend you my everlasting gratitude. But come. We may speak of such things on the way. We must free your friend.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOf the soldiers, some are relieved by Gustabbian\u2019s removal. They jeer and mock him as he is ushered forth in shame. Some are shocked at his treachery; others at his cowardice. But most are indifferent. Yet all are pleased at the battle\u2019s end, and we march to the tune of cheer.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOnce we are within the demesne, the crowd begins to dissipate but, together, Gwayne and I make our way to the dungeons, with Gustabbian in tow, to a certain cell behind a door reinforced with rusted metal straps. Gwayne removes the crossbar and opens the cell. Inside is dark, inscrutable; but in a moment I see her. As she steps out of the dark confines, Gustabbian is thrust in her place and the door is shut.\n<\/p>\n<p><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cZora,\u201d I speak her name, and she speaks mine as I grasp her and pull her close. I say, \u201cSo, what was it you said about romance?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\"><br \/>\n<FONT SIZE=5><center>Published by Light Spring LLC <\/center><\/FONT><br \/>\n<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\"><br \/>\n<FONT SIZE=5><center>Fort Worth, Texas<\/center><\/FONT><\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\"><br \/>\n<FONT SIZE=5><center>&copy; Copyright 2016, All Rights Reserved<\/center><\/FONT><\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\"><br \/>\n<BR><br \/>\n<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" ALIGN=CENTER STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\"><br \/>\n<FONT COLOR=\"#000080\"><SPAN LANG=\"zxx\"><U><center><A HREF=\"http:\/\/www.TheColoredLens.com\/\"><FONT SIZE=5>www.TheColoredLens.com<\/FONT><\/A><\/center><\/U><\/SPAN><\/FONT><\/P><br \/>\n<\/center><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"margin-bottom: 0in\"><BR><br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The Colored Lens Speculative Fiction Magazine Winter 2016 &ndash; Issue #18 Featuring works by George S. Walker, Anton Rose, Jamie Killen, J. M. Evenson, Nathan Wunner, Dale Carothers, Rhoads Brazos, Derrick Boden, Amelie Daigle, Will Gwaun, Jude-Marie Green, and C. Allen Exline. Edited by Dawn Lloyd and Daniel Scott Henry Fields, Associate Editor Published by &hellip;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":29,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-134332","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/134332","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/29"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=134332"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/134332\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":134333,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/134332\/revisions\/134333"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=134332"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}