{"id":136279,"date":"2019-07-14T04:56:16","date_gmt":"2019-07-14T04:56:16","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/?page_id=136279"},"modified":"2019-07-14T04:58:59","modified_gmt":"2019-07-14T04:58:59","slug":"the-colored-lens-23-winter-2017","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/?page_id=136279","title":{"rendered":"The Colored Lens #23 \u2013 Spring 2017"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a name=\"start\"><\/a><br \/>\n<a href=\"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/03\/Cover.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/03\/Cover.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"790\" height=\"1024\" \/><\/a><br \/>\n<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>Spring 2017 &ndash; Issue #23<\/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 J. J. Roth, Tamoha Sengupta, David Cleden, Peter Ryan, Mark Bilsborough, Dale L. Sproule, Serena Johe, Subodhana Wijeyeratne, Madeline Olsen, A.P. Miller, Lynn Rushlau, and Jamie D. Munro.<\/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 2017, 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=\"#cartographer\">The Cartographer Gene<\/a> by J. J. Roth<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#houses\">The Houses They Became<\/a> by Tamoha Sengupta<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#quantum\">The Quantum Watchmaker<\/a> by David Cleden<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#bloodwater\">When Bloodwater Boils<\/a> by Peter Ryan<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#pen\">The Pen<\/a> by Mark Bilsborough<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#ashes\">Ladder of Ashes<\/a> by Dale L. Sproule<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#rather\">Wouldn&#8217;t You Rather<\/a> by Serena Johe<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#blue\">Big Blue<\/a> by Subodhana Wijeyeratne<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#wanted\">Wanted<\/a> by Madeline Olsen<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#grimoire\">The Monk&#8217;s Grimoire<\/a> by A.P. Miller<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#willingly\">Willingly and with Joy<\/a> by Lynn Rushlau<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#galahs\">Crows and Galahs<\/a> by Jamie D. Munro<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#interview\">The Colored Lens Interviews: Jarod K Anderson<\/a>\n<\/ul>\n<p><\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"cartographer\"><\/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>The Cartographer Gene<\/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. J. Roth<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan Sofer&#8217;s sixteen-year-old daughter appeared in his office crying one rainy Tuesday in March, sparking a chain of events that sent his life&#8217;s trajectory hurtling down a long, serpentine fuse toward a powder keg.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan, Helion Engineering\u2019s Director of Cartographic Solutions, sat at his workstation in a San Francisco office tower, correcting a topographic map of Costa Rica\u2019s Arenal volcano. An intern had used 2005 elevation data, which didn&#8217;t account for the height added in 2010 when molten rock last spewed from Arenal. &#8220;You need a little boost,&#8221; Jordan said aloud to the volcano rendered on his display.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAs he redrew contour lines, Jordan became aware of muffled sobs behind him. Millie huddled on the floor in the corner, her knees, naked under her short denim skirt, drawn to her chest.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe hadn\u2019t used the door. Whatever made Millie cry had also filled her with the familiar, overpowering urge to draw.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;What happened?&#8221; Jordan glanced out the vertical glass panel beside his office door to the hallway, empty except for framed antique maps on the walls. No one had seen Millie materialize. He knelt beside Millie and kissed the top of her black-haired head, pushing the soft curls she inherited through Carole&#8217;s Haitian ancestry from her light-skinned forehead, the genetic contribution of Jordan&#8217;s Eastern European Jewish heritage. Millie smelled fresh, like honeydew. Her tears dampened Jordan\u2019s blue Oxford shirt, leaving translucent streaks in the cotton.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Tyler,&#8221; she said. &#8220;After school, he said if he couldn\u2019t have me, no one could. Ben caught up to us and Tyler started shouting. I ran to tell Mr. Kramer. Then into an empty classroom.&#8221; Jordan felt for her index finger, still tacky with blood.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMillie didn&#8217;t have to tell Jordan what happened in that empty classroom; he&#8217;d have done the same if he feared for his physical safety. He pictured Millie searching for notebook paper, or perhaps cardboard, an index card, a discarded paper bag, anything on which to draw. Then rummaging for a pen, or a pencil, chalk, crayon, anything to mark that surface.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn Millie&#8217;s highly agitated state, details poured from her memory with photographic accuracy. She drew, as she could only when desperate&#8211;without training, without straight edges, protractors, compasses, CAD programs or reference materials, without erasures or strike-throughs&#8211;a professional-quality floor plan of her father\u2019s office. A place she\u2019d been before and felt safe. She&#8217;d pricked her skin, closed her eyes, and laid her bloody finger on the map.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan tapped his iPhone. His son, Ben, Millie&#8217;s twin, answered on the second ring. &#8220;Where are you?\u201d Jordan asked.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHome,\u201d Ben said, his mouth full.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe\u2019d be in the kitchen of their San Carlos house, on a quiet hillside twenty-five minutes from downtown San Francisco, in front of the open side-by-side refrigerator. Pouring cornflakes into his mouth straight from the box. Washing them down with milk straight from the plastic gallon jug.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCarole would have made Ben get a bowl. After Carole succumbed to breast cancer four years ago, Jordan became lax about minor rules infractions. A single parent had to pick his battles. With Ben, Jordan dumped all his discipline points into one bucket: listening. The kid&#8217;s ears, like broken antennae, seemed unable to tune to the frequency of Jordan\u2019s voice.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Millie\u2019s here,&#8221; Jordan said. \u201cYou okay?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Kramer came out before Tyler could slug me. He\u2019s suspended for three days. It sucks having to stand up to bullies instead of just teleporting the hell out of there, like some people I know.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAlways with the barbs, that kid. The who-cares attitude worn like a flak jacket, envy smoldering underneath. Why did it always have to be fraternal twins, a boy and a girl, one with the ability, one without? Ben was so much like Jordan&#8217;s twin sister, Sarah. They both lacked what the family called the &#8220;Cartographer Gene&#8221; though its origins, whether in biology or something more arcane, were obscure. And they both resented their siblings and parents\u2019 power. Jordan wondered whether all &#8220;Cartographer&#8221; families&#8211;the population&#8217;s tiny fraction across all races and ethnicities believed to have this trait \u2014- experienced the same fractured dynamic.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe deflected Ben&#8217;s remark, finding it much easier to keep Ben at arm&#8217;s length than to engage.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;We&#8217;ll be there soon,&#8221; Jordan said.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan didn&#8217;t press Millie on the drive home. She stopped crying, but sat silently in the passenger seat. Her honeydew scent mingled with a hint of Freon from the aging Land Rover&#8217;s air conditioner and wet asphalt from the rain-slicked freeway. He knew he should talk to her more, try harder to reach her. He stole glimpses of Millie while she gazed out the window at the rolling green hills now grey under the overcast sky.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt had not escaped Jordan&#8217;s notice that even after puberty, Millie wasn&#8217;t interested in boys. With each passing year, more girls phoned Ben. Millie never mentioned anyone special. Jordan knew Millie was gay, but she never broached the subject, and he never asked. He hoped she understood he loved her; that he&#8217;d find offensive the suggestion her sexual orientation would make him feel otherwise. Though he did worry that Millie&#8217;s gayness might further complicate the Tyler situation.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen they entered the family room, they found Ben hunched over an X-Box controller playing a first person shooter. Fake machine gun fire and grenade explosions thundered in surround sound, rattling the sliding glass door to the redwood deck. &#8220;Turn that off,&#8221; Jordan said. &#8220;Tell me what&#8217;s going on.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMillie sat on the black leather sofa, hands cupped in her lap. Ben locked and loaded his virtual bolt-action rifle and aimed at a pixelated terrorist. Unable to find the remote, Jordan strode to the television and touched the power switch.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I know none of us are any good at this,&#8221; Jordan said. &#8220;But we have to talk.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBen tossed the game controller to the sofa&#8217;s far end. He crossed his arms over his orange T-shirt so only the words &#8220;Radio&#8221; and \u201ctour\u201d showed. Was that a skull tattooed on his wrist, or merely a mishap with a felt tip pen? His black-heeled boot clanked against the glass coffee table, and he crossed his legs at the ankle. Jordan stared at the boots until Ben smirked and eased them from the table to the maple hardwood.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I thought this thing with Tyler was over, Millie,&#8221; Jordan said. &#8220;That after that incident in the library, you&#8217;d stopped being his orientation buddy and Mr. Kramer told him to stay away from you.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;You didn&#8217;t tell him?&#8221; Ben asked Millie.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe shrugged, fingering a blue thread bracelet around her thin wrist. A gift from her friend, Hannah? &#8220;I thought I could handle it.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Handle what?&#8221; A small knot of dread formed in Jordan&#8217;s midsection and pulsed, dully.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMillie twisted the bracelet until it snapped apart. &#8220;Tyler&#8217;s still mad about the dance.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;That was before the library,&#8221; Jordan said. &#8220;When he was told to leave you alone. Have I got the chronology wrong?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan recounted the history. Tyler started at San Carlos High six months ago when his family moved to the neighborhood from Nashville, Tennessee. The change proved something of a culture shock to Tyler. He showed up for his first day at San Carlos high wearing a Confederate Flag T-shirt, which made him the subject of whispering and avoidance, including from Ben. Millie took it upon herself to do the opposite, to try to help Tyler acclimate. He mistook her kindness for a different signal and asked her to the Halloween dance.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMillie tried to explain her refusal wasn&#8217;t personal. Jordan suspected, though he didn&#8217;t say so, that Millie told Tyler what she wouldn&#8217;t tell her own father. The next day, in the library, Millie was telling Tyler she&#8217;d be participating in the Anti-Defamation League&#8217;s &#8220;Becoming an Ally&#8221; workshop at the school next week. He grabbed her wrists, squeezing until her skin blanched. &#8220;He argued with himself,&#8221; she&#8217;d said. &#8220;Then he kissed me. I tried to get away, but he pushed me onto the carpet. Just then, some kids came in. He let me go. I ran to the girls&#8217; bathroom to draw a map.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere followed conferences with Mr. Kramer and Tyler&#8217;s parents. Jordan came away from those with the understanding Tyler was to have nothing more to do with Millie.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Yeah,&#8221; Millie said. &#8220;All that&#8217;s right, except Tyler didn&#8217;t leave me alone. He&#8217;s been shoving notes through the vents in my locker. Love letters, weird ones, about me, him and some voice in his head, Denton. Disgusting comics of us naked, scrawled with &#8216;How do you know if you haven&#8217;t tried?&#8217; He&#8217;s been sending emails&#8211;pictures he&#8217;s taken of me without me even knowing. Creepy messages, like &#8216;You and your brother brought this on everyone.'&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan turned to Ben. &#8220;You knew about this?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Since last week,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Only because I overheard her telling Hannah.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe kernel of dread snowballed in Jordan&#8217;s gut, gathering a layer of sadness here, anger there, until a cold boulder pressed against his chest&#8217;s walls, trying to burst him apart. How did he not know?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBecause he didn&#8217;t want to know. He&#8217;d have to get close to them to know.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m calling Mr. Kramer,\u201d Jordan said. \u201cThen Tyler\u2019s parents, again. And the police. This has to stop.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNeither of the twins replied. Millie texted. Ben dug the remote from between the sofa cushions and restarted his game. Jordan took his iPhone onto the deck and slid the glass door shut behind him, lowering the decibel level of Ben&#8217;s virtual combat zone to a pale echo.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAs Mr. Kramer\u2019s voice mail greeting droned in Jordan\u2019s ear, Sarah phoned from her bio-engineering lab in Boston. Jordan switched to Sarah&#8217;s call, intending to try Mr. Kramer again after he&#8217;d spoken to his sister.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut the fuse, lit with Millie&#8217;s news, snaked around another s-curve, the fire creeping steadily toward an explosive end.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan&#8217;s mother had died.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m on my way to Houston to make arrangements,\u201d Sarah said. \u201cYou\u2019ll come?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOf course.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSarah sounded faint and distracted, liked she&#8217;d taken Valium with Merlot. Or perhaps it was exhaustion from the chemo. No sarcastic jabs, no &#8220;map on over to Houston, brother, or for that matter, Paris or the moon.&#8221; He longed for normalcy, for words thrust like foils in a fencing match. As though his mother would still be alive if only Sarah made him remind her for the thousandth time that those with the Cartographer trait could only teleport places they&#8217;d already been, and then only while fearing for their safety. As though his mother wouldn&#8217;t have died if only he could jab Sarah back for owning her own company, pulling down seven figures, and being able to afford jetting anywhere she wanted.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut Sarah just thanked Jordan like he&#8217;d offered to pick up her dry cleaning, not like he shared her shock and grief at having their mother stripped from their lives. The hub whose love reached out like spokes to all of them \u2014- Jordan, Sarah, Millie, Ben, Jordan&#8217;s father&#8211;even as the connections between those on the wheel&#8217;s periphery became dry and brittle.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn the flurry of phone calls to arrange flights, inform bosses and teachers, cancel appointments; in the commotion of three hastily packed suitcases and a hurried drive to SFO; in the surreal consciousness that the loving presence who\u2019d laughed with him on the phone just two days ago no longer resided in this world; in the exquisite pain of losing forever the one person whose love he\u2019d never questioned and never had to earn; in the wake of it all, certain plans were, to be generous, tabled. In a less charitable view, they were forgotten.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nEither way, despite his good intentions, Jordan did not phone Mr. Kramer, Tyler\u2019s parents, or the police.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy the time Jordan and his kids arrived at the ranch-style house in southwest Houston where he and Sarah had grown up, most of the neighbors and friends bearing fruit plates and roast chickens had gone. Sarah let Millie take over answering the door; Ben went to nap in Jordan&#8217;s old room. Jordan pushed back in an olive green &#8217;60s-era Naugahyde recliner, the one his father had always used.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIsn\u2019t it strange how life can just stop, with food in the refrigerator and letters to be mailed?\u201d Sarah said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan hadn&#8217;t seen Sarah in the flesh in three years, long before her breast cancer diagnosis. The chemo had taken her dark, expressive eyebrows, leaving her face bland and unfinished. Tiny lines furrowed the space between where her eyebrows had been.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThese lines hadn\u2019t shown on Skype, not that Sarah and Jordan conferenced much, and neither had Sarah&#8217;s gauntness. Her engagement ring&#8217;s diamond, always perky atop her ring finger before, now drooped toward her palm. Sarah kept pushing the diamond upright with her thumb&#8211;Carole&#8217;s gesture, after the cancer spread to her spine. The sad irony that a variant of Carole\u2019s disease now threatened Sarah made it impossible for Jordan to watch Sarah fiddling with the ring. To be reminded how Carole kept nothing down during chemo, how her cheeks, arms, and hips sharpened from healthy curves to angular points.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan parked his gaze on a burn hole in the Naugahyde. He scraped its charred edges with his fingernail. &#8220;Where&#8217;s Steve?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;He stayed in Boston with the girls,&#8221; Sarah said. &#8220;Things aren&#8217;t going so well with us.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan knew Sarah and her husband had been having trouble only because his mother had mentioned it. &#8220;I&#8217;m sorry.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI get it,\u201d she said. \u201cHe\u2019s scared. I\u2019m scared, too. I just wish we could be scared together. It\u2019s easier for him to handle if he distances himself.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan didn&#8217;t blame Steve; he wanted nothing more than to leave the room, as if more physical space would shield him against losing Sarah.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe stuck his fingertip through the burn hole, recalling the honeyed, nutty aroma of his father\u2019s cigars. So many nights his father had sat in this chair, watching Upstairs, Downstairs on PBS and smoking, after spending the day in his beloved research lab, lecturing at the medical school, or writing a scientific paper. His father&#8217;s life had been his work.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd his mother&#8217;s life had been his father.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis parents talked in this room, after his mother put him and Sarah to bed. He didn&#8217;t hear the words, just the buzz of conversation and occasional laughter. He had wanted to speak to his father like that, to hear him laugh. To see him at Little League games and piano recitals like the other dads. But all his father&#8217;s meager affections went to Jordan&#8217;s mother.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen his father died, Jordan was still mourning Carole, still tangled in that loss. Regret sat heavy in his stomach, like a smooth, oval stone.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI wish I\u2019d been more \u2018there\u2019 for Mom,\u201d Sarah said, voicing Jordan\u2019s thoughts. \u201cToo wrapped up in my own misery, I guess. She was never the same after Dad died. When I got here, I found full ash trays near her computer. Full fat cheddar in the refrigerator. Cobwebs and dust on the treadmill. All the things the doctors said to do to avoid another heart attack, she stopped doing. I found this, too.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSarah handed Jordan a careful, pencil-drawn plan of Beth Yeshurun cemetery, where tomorrow they would attend their mother&#8217;s funeral. The single roadway looping the neat plots. The white stone visitors\u2019 benches. The majestic oak tree, under which his father\u2019s headstone lay. The grassy nakedness of the adjacent plot, where his mother\u2019s casket would be interred.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd a reddish-brown fingerprint, the whorls distinct as contour lines on a topographic map, over that empty plot.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cA caretaker found her when they opened yesterday,\u201d Sarah said. \u201cIn that yellow knit suit with navy piping she loved so much. She must have sensed another attack, got scared and mapped to where she felt safest, next to Dad. Funny. No one seemed worried how she got there once the coroner ruled out foul play.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHow unfair that Sarah and Ben had to worry about protecting the family&#8217;s secret; a secret they could never use themselves. Feelings warred within Jordan. He wanted to thank Sarah for shouldering that burden. To tell her he was sorry they hadn&#8217;t been closer. He wanted to ask her about her prognosis, let her know he was pulling for her.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe wanted to walk out the door and keep walking until his Nikes wore through to his bare feet, somewhere near the Texas-Louisiana border. He pulled his finger from the burn hole, dislodging a vinyl fragment. He rolled the fragment between his thumb and fingers.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI found this in a stack she\u2019d planned to mail.\u201d Sarah handed Jordan an envelope and excused herself to phone the funeral home.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe sealed envelope, addressed to Jordan in his mother\u2019s neat architectural hand, writing common to all Cartographers&#8211;all capital letters at a slight angle, giving the illusion of motion&#8211;bore a Forever stamp.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nInside, he\u2019d find a magazine or newspaper article with his mother\u2019s editorial comments on a yellow Post-It. She&#8217;d have signed the note \u201cMomcat,\u201d a goofy nickname she adopted from a B. Kliban cartoon book. She started sending these when Jordan went to Stanford and never stopped after he graduated. At twenty-something, Jordan found these notes embarrassing; later he found them eccentrically cute. Now he\u2019d never receive another. He wiped his eye with the back of his hand and ran his thumb under the flap.<br \/>\n<\/P><br \/>\n\t<BR>Darling J,<br \/>\n\t<BR>You know how Daddy wouldn\u2019t talk about the War? All he told me was the name of his town \u2013 Olomouc&#8211;in what\u2019s now the Czech Republic. And that the Nazis rounded up his family during the War but he \u201cmade it out\u201d of Theresienstadt. The rest of his family, including his twin sister, your Aunt Rebecca, died in Birkenau. Keep that in mind as you read this. Let me know what you think.<br \/>\n\t<BR>I love you better than stars or water,<br \/>\n\t<BR>Momcat<br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nUnderneath the Post-It, on filmy paper cut from The New Republic, was a review of a children\u2019s book about Friedl Dicker-Brandeis, an artist who taught secret drawing classes to the children of Theresienstadt as therapy.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAccording to the article, Dicker-Brandeis saved thousands of those drawings in two suitcases, hidden before they sent her to Birkenau. A decade after the war ended, the suitcases turned up; the art was displayed in the Jewish Museum in Prague and in Yad Vashem. Several sketches and paintings had been reproduced within the article: strange, haunting, beautiful depictions of people with bundles boarding trains, of humanoid fairies, of keyholes opening from a frightening, grey world of watchtowers, starvation and typhus onto a colorful paradise of fantastic creatures and children running free.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn the margin next to one drawing, Jordan\u2019s mother had placed arrows and exclamation marks.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA professional-looking street map of Olomouc.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan had never been to Olomouc, and he couldn\u2019t read Czech. But he could make enough sense of the cognates to pick out a university, Wenceslas cathedral, the Olomouc Orthodox church. A ruined synagogue, notated with slanted, all capital printing \u2013- Jordan understood only the word, \u201cKristallnacht.\u201d He pulled up a Helion Engineering street map of Olomouc on his iPhone and laid it next to the picture. He found the medieval fortress walls around the city, the former site of an intricate astrological clock, the streets, unchanged since the 1940s.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAn inset detailed the town center, including a winding street labeled Trida Svobody, itself the subject of another inset: a stately, white stone apartment building. The floor plan for a suite of rooms on the fourth floor, one labeled \u201cRivkah,\u201d another marked \u201cShmuel.\u201d A bed against the wall, a desk, an armoire.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOver the armoire, a single brick-colored smudge.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis father would have been only seven in 1942, but even an adult couldn\u2019t have accomplished such cartographic sophistication without tools, unless the one drawing had the Cartographer Gene.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan had no doubt. Samuel Sofer \u201cmade it out of Theresienstadt\u201d through a map. Little Sam went home, and his map found its way into an art teacher&#8217;s suitcase.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhat happened next? How long had he hidden in that armoire, in the vacant, high-ceilinged apartment the Nazis hadn\u2019t yet commandeered? Did a brave neighbor hide him for the war\u2019s duration? Did he seek help at the cathedral?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSeven-year-old Sam saved himself but not his twin, his family, or the other captive, doomed children. Jordan shuddered.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSomething inside him split open, releasing a painful wave of understanding that pushed against years of anger and hurt.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis father had not been indifferent.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe had been afraid.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAfter the funeral, with Millie asleep in Sarah\u2019s old room and Ben asleep in Jordan\u2019s, Jordan and Sarah nibbled rugelach and sipped Australian Kosher wine, gifts from shiva callers, in their childhood living room. After the second glass of wine, Sarah\u2019s old, acerbic self peeped through her veil of grief.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I&#8217;ve always wondered why you became a professional cartographer,&#8221; she said. &#8220;Isn&#8217;t your day job being the same as your superpower too close for comfort?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan smiled, grateful for the familiar sarcasm. &#8220;What can I say? I love maps,&#8221; he said. &#8220;I&#8217;m lucky to make a living doing something I enjoy. Not as tony as your living, of course.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThough she&#8217;d started the banter, Sarah cut him off.<br \/>\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 orphans now,&#8221; she said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan thought she would cry, but she just leaned her head against his shoulder. His muscles tensed at her touch, but if she noticed, she didn&#8217;t show it. To distract himself, he took in the room. The Baldwin upright where they\u2019d both practiced scales and arpeggios, Sarah more than Jordan. The now-antique RCA stereo in a cherry wood cabinet, speakers blown from the summer they discovered Led Zeppelin. The wine&#8217;s plush tannins dried his mouth; the alcohol warmed his chest. An aroma of warm brisket lingered in the house. He reached in his pocket for the article on Dicker-Brandeis and handed it to Sarah.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cImagine saving only yourself,\u201d Jordan said. \u201cThe guilt he must have felt. No wonder he wouldn&#8217;t let himself get close to us. Just Mom. She had that uncanny ability to break down any barriers any of us put up.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSarah finished reading and folded the paper. \u201cI didn\u2019t say anything because I\u2019m not done. But before I got sick, my skunk works research project took an interesting turn. I didn&#8217;t isolate the elusive &#8216;Gene,&#8217; but I found a similarity in the blood samples I took from Mom, you and Millie.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou\u2019re all AB negative, the rarest blood type \u2014- have you read the crap on the internet? That it comes from aliens. From reptiles. That people who have it have ESP. Ridiculous, but what I found isn\u2019t. You all lack a clotting factor. You should be hemophiliac, but you\u2019re not. You all have abnormal protein levels, but you don\u2019t have myeloma. Your blood is special, Jordan.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNow it made sense&#8211;why his mother always took him to Cartographer doctors as a child. She made him promise to do the same as an adult, so his blood&#8217;s abnormalities would remain secret. \u201cIs this a side effect, like our writing escaping the page?\u201d Jordan asked.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe remembered the day, in happier times, when Carole sat the twin toddlers at the kitchen table and gave them each a sheet of manila art paper. Ben wielded a midnight blue Crayola, Millie a sea green one.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCarole lifted Ben\u2019s scribbled-on paper and tilted it. The crayon marks stayed put. When she tilted Millie\u2019s, the marks fell from the page, forming a scraggly, sea green bird\u2019s nest on Millie\u2019s Elmo place mat. That\u2019s when they knew Millie had the Gene. Cartographers\u2019 writing and drawing required several minutes to set. Carole, so proud, had said, \u201cIt\u2019s Millie!\u201d and held Jordan close. A memory so vivid, he could almost feel Carole&#8217;s warmth against him.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI think it&#8217;s the opposite,\u201d Sarah said. \u201cThe drawing compulsion, the prodigious mapmaking talent&#8211;those are side effects. The power\u2019s in the blood. It would explain the rumored hidden ability to transport others. What if Cartographers&#8217; blood could be used to transport non-Cartographers?\u201c<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSarah&#8217;s words punctured Jordan&#8217;s memory, leaving a raw hole of guilt. She&#8217;d spent precious hours of her life chasing an explanation for the power he possessed yet she could never wield. And even a way to expand it. \u201cNo one\u2019s ever done that.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut it&#8217;s part of the lore. All legends have a grain of truth. What if there\u2019s always been a way, but it got lost. Like how to pronounce YHWH?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nExhaustion knocked Jordan back. He was too drained to think how different things might have been if Sam had been able to rescue others as well as himself.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSarah hugged him goodnight. She felt small against him, not much bigger than Millie.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLying on the guest room&#8217;s ancient fold-out couch, Jordan made a promise to himself. The familial cycle of emotional distance would stop with him. He would open his heart to those he loved, no matter how much it hurt.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe closed his eyes. Carole slept with him on this thin, striped mattress years ago. He could detect nothing of the clean, lemon and lily fragrance she always wore in the aged kapok&#8217;s mustiness. The mattress&#8217;s buttons, hard against his back, dug into his skin. He wept, without sound, until he fell asleep.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe day after the Sofers returned from Houston, on a sunny, clear-skied afternoon, Jordan left work early to help Millie and Ben with an extra credit project. He\u2019d agreed to coach their moot court teams for an upcoming competition. They met in the school auditorium to practice: Millie and her moot court partner, Hannah, and Ben and his partner, Enrique. Their case, based on New Jersey v. T.L.O, a U.S. Supreme Court decision, concerned the constitutionality of searching public school students.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMillie took the podium, flustered. Jordan had walked in to find her holding hands with Hannah. Millie snatched her hand away, a punch to Jordan\u2019s gut. He hadn&#8217;t expected years of emotional distance to disappear overnight, but he had hoped for at least a modicum of progress.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAt that moment, the circuitous fuse bent around one last curve, the fire hissing down the home stretch, picking up speed: Mr. Kramer\u2019s voice came over the PA system.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe are in lockdown. This is not a drill.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn the background, someone screamed, \u201cTyler, please, no! Oh God!\u201d Four sharp, rhythmic blasts followed. The PA microphone whined with feedback. Tyler spoke.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou heard the man. This is not a drill, Millicent and Benjamin Sofer. I&#8217;m coming for you.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut the drills had taught them well. Each of the four kids ran to one of the auditorium doors and shut it. Enrique doused the lights. \u201cDo these lock?\u201d he whispered, pointing to the steel door he\u2019d shut. The other three fumbled with locked padlocks dangling from chains wrapped around the steel push bars. Ben said, \u201cNot without keys.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIs there a door we can lock?\u201d Jordan asked.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI did a play with the drama group,\u201d Hannah said. \u201cThe dressing room doors lock. They\u2019re backstage.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBring your stuff,\u201d Jordan said. \u201cIt can\u2019t look like we were here.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey ran up the stage\u2019s wooden stairs and behind the red velvet curtains. Right before the backstage exit, Hannah pushed open a grey steel door and flicked a light switch.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe long, narrow room was painted an institutional sherbet green. Globe lights surrounded several large wall mirrors that hung over an off-white Formica countertop. Three vanity chairs were pushed under the counter, each with gilt-painted wooden arm rests and greasepaint-stained, dark pink velvet seat cushions.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCostumes hung from a metal clothing rack in the room\u2019s back. A red and white dotted Swiss hoop skirt with matching parasol. Two black and white gowns from My Fair Lady&#8217;s Ascot race scene. Several long, black coats and black hats with plastic wine bottles Velcroed to their crowns from last year\u2019s Fiddler on the Roof production. Assorted tights, vests and pantaloons. A small shelf held dried sponges stained with pancake makeup in various skin tones. Crumbling cakes of eye shadow in blues, browns and pinks. Dried bottles of spirit gum. Some discarded safety pins.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan pocketed one of the pins and gave another to Millie.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAn ancient Clairol makeup mirror on the counter caught Jordan\u2019s eye. He pressed the power button. The lights alongside the mirror flickered on, emitting a warm, amber glow. Enough to see by once their eyes adjusted, but too faint to show under the door. Jordan signaled, and Millie turned off the globe lights.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnyone have cell reception?\u201d Jordan asked, thinking it unlikely given the windowless, concrete walls. They all shook their heads.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan said, &#8220;Millie, you know what to do.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNot without you.\u201d Her lower lip trembled.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOpen your pack.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMillie took out her English notebook, ripped out a page, and unsheathed a black felt tip. \u201cDad, don&#8217;t make me leave by myself.\u201d Even as she spoke, her fingers twitched. Jordan knew they wanted, more than anything, to draw.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe\u2019ll be right behind you. Aunt Sarah figured out how to transport non-Cartographers.\u201d Jordan hoped he sounded convincing.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;She did?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat the hell are you talking about?\u201d Enrique said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMillie, show them,\u201d Jordan said. \u201cIt\u2019s easier than explaining.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe\u2019re not supposed to let anyone know.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSweetie, please. It&#8217;s an emergency.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMillie sketched the neighborhood, the Sofer\u2019s street, an inset of their house\u2019s floor plan. When she finished her room, she kissed her father and brother and held Hannah close. She pricked her finger, handed Ben the safety pin and touched the map.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHoly crap,\u201d Enrique said, eyes like hula hoops. \u201cWhat just happened?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHannah waved her hand through the space where Millie had stood. \u201cWhoa.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan tore another sheet from Millie\u2019s notebook. The impulse overpowered him. He drew the family room&#8217;s leather sofas, the plasma screen television and X-Box, the fireplace.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDad,\u201d Ben said. \u201cEnrique\u2019s never been to our house.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nVoices cried out, like distant crowd noise from AT&amp;T Park after a homerun. Faint, staccato sounds, pok pok pok pok, followed. One of the kids, Jordan couldn\u2019t tell who, choked on a sob.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBen&#8217;s right,\u201d Jordan said. &#8220;Stupid of me. We need a place you\u2019ve all been, where you feel safe.\u201d He forced himself to stop drawing and turned the page over. His hand flexed and cramped as he fought the compulsion.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cFoster Park?\u201d Ben asked.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWorks for me,\u201d Enrique said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNot me,\u201d Hannah whispered. \u201cWhen I was seven, a man I didn\u2019t know came up to me at the swings.\u201d She buried her face in her hands.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan patted Hannah\u2019s arm. \u201cIt\u2019s all good. We\u2019ll pick someplace else.\u201d More screams welled like a ghostly wind, closer this time. \u201cIolanthe Circle?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey nodded. Iolanthe Circle: a favorite meditation and contemplation spot, on a hilltop not far from the school grounds. Because of budget cuts, it was closed on Tuesdays, but they\u2019d bypass the visitor\u2019s center and their landing place would be deserted. Jordan let the urge take over, his hand a blur like a video on fast forward. He placed the completed map across his knees to set.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat are we waiting for?\u201d Enrique said. \u201cLet\u2019s get out of here.\u201d He grabbed the paper.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan&#8217;s map, all of it \u2013- Crestview Drive winding up the hill above the school; its circular terminus at the hilltop, parking spaces striped bold and white along the sides; the pebble path into the redwood grove; Iolanthe Circle itself, outlined in smooth grey standing stones two feet high; the wooden meditation benches and Zen labyrinth inside the circle&#8211;slid from the page. It sprinkled the floor and settled into a pile, black and fine, like iron filings.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey stared at the heap of dried ink, wordless. Enrique held out the blank page to Jordan. It rattled in his shaking hand. &#8220;I didn&#8217;t know.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan closed his own hands over Enrique&#8217;s and held them there until Enrique&#8217;s were still. &#8220;It&#8217;s okay,&#8221; Jordan said. &#8220;How could you have known?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn the makeup mirror&#8217;s dusky light, shadows clung to their faces. Enrique, now immobile, his breath choppy, shallow and too fast. Hannah, wet trails glistening on her cheeks, tearing a black-painted fingernail with her teeth. Ben, his only son, leg jiggling a rapid vibration on the pink-cushioned seat. All on the brink of panic. He could lose them any second, and once he did, he&#8217;d never get them back. And none of them would stand a chance.<br \/>\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 try that again,&#8221; he said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey circled him like the standing stones at Iolanthe. Without anyone suggesting it aloud, they held hands. As Jordan began again, a high, thin siren wail, then two, then three, their rise and fall tumbling over one another in an elaborate braid of sound, carried into the dressing room. &#8220;They&#8217;re coming,&#8221; Hannah said. &#8220;Help is coming.&#8221; No one said more.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan drew with fast sure strokes, as though some occult energy possessed his hand. The circle took shape on the page again. &#8220;The power&#8217;s in the blood,&#8221; Sarah&#8217;d said. Let her be right. Please God, let her be right. He caught a glimpse of Ben&#8217;s face silhouetted in the murky light, vacant with terror. He wouldn&#8217;t leave the others behind, like his father had. They would face whatever happened, together.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nScreams pierced the air, so near Ben said, \u201cThat was Ms. Yamamoto. That was her.\u201d The music classroom across the hall? &#8220;Cover your ears,&#8221; Jordan hissed, and the kids complied, clamping their hands hard to their heads against the coming din. Four seconds of metallic cracks. Then silence, so much worse than sound.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey shivered now, their faces tear-stained and sticky, their open mouths stringy with mucous. The close, sour air smelled of decaying taffeta and velvet and the cloying, powdery perfume of stale makeup. Jordan\u2019s mouth went dry.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe opened the safety pin, pricked his finger tip and squeezed out a round bulb of blood. He resisted calling to Ben. He wanted Ben safe, but what if something went wrong? He could experiment with someone else\u2019s child or his own. A choice awful to contemplate, but Jordan made it, even so.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Enrique, right hand,&#8221; he said. Jordan smeared Enrique&#8217;s fingertip with blood and positioned it over the Zen maze. &#8220;Close your eyes, picture the maze, and think &#8216;here.'&#8221; Enrique nodded, closed his eyes and touched his finger to the map.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWith Jordan, with Millie and Carole, with all the Cartographers he knew, transport happened the instant blood touched the map. Yet Enrique still stood in front of them, eyes closed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe heavy steel door to the auditorium clanged shut and Enrique\u2019s eyes popped open. \u201cKeep them closed,\u201d Jordan said. \u201cNo matter what. Concentrate.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m trying,\u201d Enrique said. \u201cIt\u2019s a little hard to focus.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTyler&#8217;s shouts pinged off the auditorium\u2019s wood paneled walls. \u201cWhere oh where are you, my little Sofer mongrels?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTry again,\u201d Jordan said. \u201cNow.\u201d He squeezed another drop of blood onto Enrique\u2019s finger.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFor a while, nothing happened. Then the outline of Enrique\u2019s body blurred, like water colors seeping past inked borders. His image faded, became transparent and lost definition, a colored mist hanging in the air.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat&#8217;s this? A backpack? Which whiny snowflake&#8217;s is it?\u201d Tyler again. \u201cYes, Denton. Let&#8217;s open it and see.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDad,\u201d Ben whispered. \u201cIt\u2019s mine. You said bring our stuff, but I&#8211;I didn&#8217;t.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan held his palm up to silence Ben. Down the I-told-you-so path lay more precious minutes they couldn&#8217;t afford to lose.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe mist that had been Enrique lingered in the air a moment longer, then dissipated all at once, as though sucked away into a vacuum.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHannah, finger,\u201d Jordan said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn less than a minute, a Hannah-shaped vapor shimmered in front of the costumes on the clothing rack, until an invisible force drew it away.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBen,\u201d Jordan said. \u201cIt\u2019s time.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDenton, look.\u201d Boots clomped on the wooden stairs. Tyler had reached the stage. If they were lucky, he would try the stage right dressing room first. \u201cBen Sofer\u2019s Algebra II notebook. Your handwriting&#8217;s so messy, Ben Sofer. You should be ashamed. It&#8217;s your fault these people will die. How I&#8217;ll enjoy killing your justice warrior sister.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan squeezed his finger. The pinprick had already closed. He felt around for the safety pin, putting his hands on nothing, the seconds ticking like a bomb in his brain. He became conscious of Ben\u2019s elbow nudging him, the second pin opened like a V between Ben\u2019s fingers. He jabbed his finger with the pin and laid a thick layer of blood on Ben\u2019s finger.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe knob to the dressing room door jiggled. \u201cHiding? So unoriginal, Ben Sofer. You disappoint me. Isn&#8217;t he a disappointment, Denton?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan took Ben\u2019s head in both hands and kissed his forehead. \u201cI love you. Go now. I\u2019m right behind you.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBen touched the map, just as the shooting started.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThen it stopped, a hole blown in the door where the knob had been. Tyler swung the door open.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe wore combat boots, fatigues slung with cartridge belts and a small black backpack. He carried two handguns in holsters: one at the shoulder, the other at the hip. He held, what Jordan supposed, having seen them only in the movies, was a semi-automatic rifle. That rifle now pointed toward Jordan, who raised his hands, but kept squeezing his fingertip between two adjacent fingers to keep the blood flowing.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTyler, puzzled, gestured with its muzzle toward Ben\u2019s dissolving mist. \u201cWhat\u2019s that? Who&#8217;re you? Where&#8217;s Ben?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe vapor\u2019s residue sucked away. An electric bullhorn crackled on and a reedy voice projected into the auditorium. \u201cTyler Nickelton. This is the FBI. We know you can hear us, Tyler. No one else needs to get hurt.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou just missed him,\u201d Jordan said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI recognize your voice,\u201d Tyler said. \u201cFrom the phone messages to my house. My parents made me listen, over and over.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA female voice, quavering and strained, came over the bull horn. \u201cTyler, sweetheart, it&#8217;s Mama.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTyler kept the rifle trained on Jordan. \u201cJust like you blue-state vermin to bring an innocent woman into a thing like this.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA drop of Jordan\u2019s blood trickled from his raised hand onto the green tile floor. Tyler&#8217;s head whipped toward the motion. In that tenth of a second, Jordan reached toward the map.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGunfire deafened Jordan. Something slammed into his shoulder and knocked him to the ground.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe was on his back. Enrique, Hannah and Ben peered down at him. The late afternoon sun shone through the redwoods above their heads. Jordan squinted against its brightness.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou\u2019re bleeding,\u201d Ben said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I&#8217;ll call 911,&#8221; Hannah said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;No!&#8221; Ben and Jordan said. Ben fished in Jordan&#8217;s pocket for his phone, pressed the emergency contact number, and asked the answering service to page their family physician, Dr. Kim. Enrique stripped off his T-shirt and wrapped Jordan&#8217;s wound.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan smelled the sweet, earthy metallic scent of his own blood. He felt no pain yet, only numbness. His ears rang. \u201cIt worked,\u201d he said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBen smiled. \u201cI\u2019m calling Millie.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA short while later, Millie ran into Iolanthe Circle. She held Jordan\u2019s hand until Dr. Kim arrived with the ambulance.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey had it all planned. When the police and news reporters asked, they told the truth. They just left some things out.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan didn\u2019t have to ask Enrique and Hannah to keep the Cartographers&#8217; secret. They worked out for themselves why those with the power concealed their abilities. Why most people wouldn\u2019t believe, and if anyone did, why that would be dangerous for Jordan, Millie, and others like them. They told Jordan they owed him their lives. The least they could do was to avoid endangering his.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe hid in a dressing room, but we left before Tyler got to us and headed for Iolanthe Circle,\u201d Hannah said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI guess no one saw us leave because they were all focused on staying alive themselves,\u201d Enrique said. \u201cWho\u2019d be looking out a window during lock down? That\u2019s the first thing they tell you not to do.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI didn\u2019t see my Dad get shot,\u201d Ben said. \u201cHe told me to go and he\u2019d be right behind me.\u201d<br \/>\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 see a blood trail from my Dad&#8217;s wound,\u201d Millie said. \u201cBut I read somewhere gunshot wounds don\u2019t necessarily bleed right away.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt happened so fast,\u201d Jordan said. \u201cMy shoulder was shattered. I was in shock. I can\u2019t tell you how we got out. I\u2019m just glad we did.\u201d<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey saw the rest on the news.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTyler didn&#8217;t wait for SWAT to take him down. He had a pipe bomb in that black backpack. He detonated it there in the dressing room, among the black felt hats adorned with feathers, the green and gold brocade gowns, the worn calfskin character shoes, and the pointed, velveteen slippers, toes curled like the tongues of yawning cats. The dressing room burned before the Fire Department arrived, longer than necessary to reduce two blood-streaked maps to ash.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn Tyler\u2019s room, investigators found hundreds of digital photographs of Millie; the early ones evoking a sense of shameful attraction, the later ones edited to depict violent fantasies. They found reams of what the news called Tyler&#8217;s manifesto, and videos of him arguing with Denton, who&#8217;d commanded violence against the school and blamed Millie and Ben.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTyler&#8217;s English teacher told reporters his writings demonstrated a rare talent. A psychiatric expert said they, along with the photos and videos, revealed Tyler as psychotic; obsessed with Millie yet full of self-loathing because she wasn&#8217;t white, unable to accept her rejection, and plagued by auditory hallucinations.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe weapons came from an underground dealer Tyler found on the internet, in exchange for information about neighborhood homes whose owners were on vacation and vulnerable to burglary.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou were right,\u201d Jordan said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSarah, still in her lab coat, smiled from his workstation display, in front of a dining table covered with books, papers and dirty dishes. Two untidy tween girls squealed, ran through the room shouting, \u201cHi, Uncle Jordan,\u201d and disappeared, giggling, into the back of the house.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI wish Dad had known,\u201d she said. \u201cAnd I wish something in that blood could heal me.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMe too,\u201d Jordan said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSarah removed her wig and scratched her bald head. \u201cChemo\u2019s over in two weeks. My oncologist says I\u2019m responding well. She thinks my chances are good.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s wonderful.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;You&#8217;ve looked better, brother.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA blue canvas sling and swathe immobilized Jordan&#8217;s reconstructed shoulder. His second surgery, to install a metal pin, had gone well, but a third loomed on the horizon.<br \/>\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 love me at airports now,&#8221; he said. He hesitated. Then he took the leap. \u201cSarah, thank you.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe winked twice, the greeting they\u2019d invented in kindergarten. The last time they&#8217;d been truly close.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan winked twice back and signed off.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThen he booked plane tickets to Boston for the weekend after Sarah&#8217;s chemo ended, for himself, Ben and Millie.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nEighteen people died in the shooting at San Carlos High. Mr. Kramer was one of them, as was Ms. Yamamoto, Ben\u2019s favorite teacher. Many young people the twins had known since pre-school perished that day. The Sofers mourned with the community and, with them, took the first slow steps toward healing.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe day of terror ended for most residents with the pipe bomb blast. A definitive finish to the course set in motion that wet, dreary Tuesday.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFor Jordan Sofer, that day signified a beginning&#8211;an unreserved commitment to the vow he&#8217;d made in Houston, to be there, fully, for the people he loved for as long as they were on this Earth with him.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSeveral weeks later, while Ben was at baseball practice, Jordan and Millie sat together on a wooden bench in Iolanthe Circle.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDad?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMillie.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI know you know I\u2019m a lesbian, though we never really discussed it.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOkay.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIn case you&#8217;re worried about grandchildren, I want you to know I\u2019m planning to have kids when I grow up.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOkay.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cKids are cool. Besides, I want to pass on the Cartographer Gene. It\u2019s too awesome not to.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe wind whistled through the redwoods. Jordan squeezed Millie\u2019s shoulder. \u201cThat\u2019s great, if that\u2019s what you want.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI just worry that when the time comes, I won\u2019t be able to find a Cartographer sperm donor. I see myself finding a wife.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe breeze ruffled Jordan\u2019s hair. He remembered a quiet black woman who came to sit next to him in a class at Stanford. Despite her shyness, she\u2019d made a beeline for him. When no one was looking, she tilted the paper on which she\u2019d been taking notes in neat, architectural printing. The words dropped into her hand. She poured the pile of spiky black ink into his palm. It crumbled into dust, softer than confectioner&#8217;s sugar. \u201cI\u2019m Carole,\u201d she said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThese things have a way of working out,\u201d Jordan said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJordan took his daughter&#8217;s hand. He felt not even the slightest urge to draw as they went down the hill, on foot, toward the comfort and safety of home.<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"houses\"><\/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>The Houses They Became<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy Tamoha Sengupta<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe house, which had once been Tina\u2019s mother, did not stir even once as she passed. Earlier, a window used to open, or the door creaked, whenever Tina would be in sight\u2014a confirmation that her mother recognized who she was.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMa was wholly a house now\u2014a house filled with the personality of those who lived there.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTina never knew what triggered the change. Maybe it was age, or maybe it was being thwarted in love a second time, or maybe it was something else.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMaybe it was the talks of the war and the fear that her son would be called to fight.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWithin a week, she became a stone house that had found a safe place on an empty patch of ground in the marketplace. The owner of the land had allowed the house there, in return for his condition.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe get the house for free.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTina knew that she, and her twin brother, Thomas, would become houses too one day, that one day she would wake up and feel the heaviness in her body, the desire to remain still, rooted to the ground. At least, that was what Ma had told them.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLong ago, it was your Grandma who had first turned into a house. But the house she turned into grew wings, or so they say.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhere did she fly?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s just a saying, Tina. Houses don\u2019t fly. There are many types of houses you can become, depending on who you are. But have you heard of flying houses?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTina shook her head. \u201cMaybe it was only Grandma.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMa shook her head. \u201cHouses don\u2019t move, dear.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWill you take me to the house Papa has become?\u201d she had asked her mother then.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMa\u2019s hands had tightened a little more around her. \u201cPapa didn\u2019t become a house. He\u2014left.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhy?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBecause when I got pregnant with you and your brother, I told your Papa that I could transform, because the transformation\u2019s always brought about by some major changes in life. He couldn\u2019t face it. Coward.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDo you think he would have stayed if we were normal, Thomas?\u201d Tina asked her brother later, the day after Ma had changed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThomas smiled and put an arm around her. \u201cWe are normal, Tina.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNormal people don\u2019t change into houses.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThey all change into something. It\u2019s not always visible.\u201d Thomas said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTina smiled and hugged her brother. Thomas always knew the right thing to say. Ma hadn\u2019t been able to afford school for the two of them, but Thomas had taught himself to read and write from the newspapers he found in dustbins. He\u2019d taught Tina too, and nowadays, whenever they were free, they would read to each other the various events of the day.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOne day I\u2019ll open a library, or a school. Or maybe I\u2019ll become one.\u201d Thomas said, laughter in his eyes. Tina smiled along with him, but in her heart she felt something heavy.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTina still ran the flower shop her mother used to run. But really, with war approaching, she didn\u2019t see how people would still buy flowers. They\u2019d have to find other ways. Schools were being shut down, turned into shelters for soldiers, and Tina wondered whether she and Thomas could go to people\u2019s houses and teach their children in exchange for a little food. Surely there would still be people who wanted their children to learn things other than gunshots and bombs and yells.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOne evening, she returned home and saw Thomas waiting for her with a letter in his hands.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe met her eyes as he spoke.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThey\u2019ve called me to the front. I have to go. Tomorrow.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSilence followed his words as Tina stared back at him, unable to speak, unable to move.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThomas was still speaking. \u201cI have to report at the station in the next town, because our town doesn\u2019t have one. And then\u2014\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe next morning, before night had fully vanished, he was gone, a backpack on his shoulder, the imprint of his body still on the bed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTina didn\u2019t even say goodbye before he left. She wasn\u2019t able to.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHer brother was gone, along with countless others, to save the country. Who had gone to save them?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThat afternoon, when she finally had the courage to get up from bed and face the day, she felt her hands being weighed down by something. She looked down. Her hands were larger than she remembered them being, and their color was not that of skin anymore, but wood.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHer heart sank. Her transformation had begun.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe didn\u2019t have a plot of land she could belong to. Neither did she have any intention of sitting in one place, waiting to fade out in the shadows of the people who would come to live there.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe needed to be there. For Thomas. What if the transformation had started for him too? What if his hands felt heavy and his feet dragged? What if they thought he was useless and killed him? What if he never got a chance to fight, to defend himself, to defend someone he had become close to?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThomas had always protected her. He was six minutes younger than her, but he had been her savior, the one who got bloody knuckles by fighting off bullies, the one who sat with her and played with dolls when she had no friends, just to see her smile. The one who had gently stood by her when Ma had gone.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt took an eternity for Tina to rub away the tears from her eyes. Her wooden hands left scratches on her cheeks. But it didn\u2019t take long for her to decide.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe was going to meet her brother. She was going to save him.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut her feet dragged. She had become taller now, and she could see past the tops of some trees.  In the distance she could see the world, blackened with smoke, meeting the gray sky.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGoing through the forest beside her town would be the fastest way to reach the railway tracks. Passing the forests was agony. So much soil for her to sink into, to just remain rooted.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI\u2019m going to be my own sort of house, she told herself as she walked, the soil cool beneath her feet. Her body creaked as she walked, never stopping, though her body became heavier by the second.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNight fell, but still she trudged on. She spoke to herself, in her mind, to remind herself who she was. My own sort of house. My own sort of house.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe wood in her body groaned with fatigue. By the time she reached the end of the forest, another day was dawning, and her eyes had disappeared. But she could still feel the surroundings.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe could follow the railway tracks to wherever her brother had gone. She was changing fast, but she could still feel herself. She was still Tina, her heart nestled in the foundations of the house. Her mind remembered Grandma and her wings. How Grandma had traveled the world in those stories, how she\u2019d housed those who had needed it.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTina didn\u2019t have wings. But she hoped she would. She was a moving house, and maybe she could house those who needed her, like Grandma had, if only in stories. She\u2019d hold the sick and the wounded close to her, and protect her brother.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe house moved forward, one step at a time, a smile opening the door wide.<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"quantum\"><\/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>The Quantum Watchmaker<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy David Cleden<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn the summer heat, the clocks ran slow and the very substance of time seemed to drag.  All watchmakers knew this, but only the very best&#8211;of which M. Guilbert was perhaps the greatest&#8211;were clever enough to engineer compensatory mechanisms into their creations.  His accuracy was legendary.  It was as though time itself was forced to do this watchmaker&#8217;s bidding.  Some said I was privileged to witness a master at his work, but what did they know of the burdens he forced me to carry?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI served my apprenticeship in unprepossessing circumstances.  A kind of perpetual gloom existed inside the watchmaker&#8217;s shop, the kind that eventually seeped deep into one&#8217;s soul.  M. Guilbert worked in a windowless back room, a black velvet curtain always drawn across the doorway.  Misshapen stubs of candles erupted like toadstools from every available surface so that he might see to do his work.  The air was thick with the smell of burnt tallow.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe would not talk to me of his strange mechanisms, and certainly he taught me nothing of their design.  How was an apprentice to learn from a master such as this?  I glimpsed intricate components of brass and silver but these bizarre mechanisms grew larger than any mere watch or clock, like rampant weeds sprouting where a delicate flower had once been.  And I saw other things too, materials which no ordinary watchmaker had need of.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHow could I not help but feel disconsolate?  My days were long, fumbling with tiny cogs and fragile movements, clumsily assembling the workmanlike pieces that kept us fed, until my fingers were sore and my eyes ached from the strain.  The bustle of the town square glimpsed through the shop&#8217;s mullioned windows was as remote as a foreign land.  Long days passed with no customers to break the silence or disturb the dust settling thickly on our bare wooden floors.  It seemed I had become no more than a ghost trapped in this place, yearning for escape.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn time I learned that none was to be found.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOne day, the little bell above the door gave a harsh, muted jangle, protesting its long period of inactivity.  The open door threw a sudden, startling beam of sunlight across the plain wooden boards.  A bubble of summer warmth wafted in, stirring the dust into swirls.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI straightened from behind the counter, blinking as I removed the jeweler\u2019s eyepiece and set down my tools.  The silhouetted stranger advanced.  I saw expensive clothes, glimpsed beyond the door a fine carriage, and heard the impatient snort of a waiting mare.  The man took a long moment to peruse the timepieces arrayed on the shelves.  I tried to follow his gaze, to see where it lingered and gauge his interest.  Those would be the pieces M. Guilbert would do well to haggle over.  Times were hard and paying customers the rarest of creatures.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFor an instant I imagined I saw the watchmaker&#8217;s shop through this stranger&#8217;s eyes:  a gloomy interior, shabby furnishings, an air of genteel neglect.  The little silver and gold timepieces: each exquisitely crafted, yet carelessly scattered across every conceivable surface, many lying forgotten on high shelves where they gathered dust&#8211;of which there was no shortage.  And what of us?  The master and his apprentice:  equally gloomy, shabby inhabitants of this place.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Why do none of these mechanisms work?&#8221; the stranger inquired, completing his inventory.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Oh but they do,&#8221; I assured him, hurrying out from behind the counter.  I glanced towards the inner sanctum of my master&#8217;s workshop, willing him to appear and relieve me of the burden of dealing with this self-important stranger.  M. Guilbert never closed the door but the thick black curtain was always drawn when he was inside.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;In every other watchmaker&#8217;s premises I have ever attended,&#8221; the gentleman said, &#8220;my ears have been assaulted by the ticking, whirring and chiming of a hundred timepieces.  But not so here.  Do your mechanisms keep time insufficiently well that you dare not set them running?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;On the contrary,&#8221; I said, with one last futile glance at the drawn curtain.  &#8220;M. Guilbert makes devices of only the greatest precision.  But my master believes it is&#8230; disrespectful&#8230; to wind a timepiece that does not yet have a purpose.  Would you not agree?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Indeed.  Perhaps.&#8221;  The gentleman seemed entirely unpersuaded.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Allow me to show you the truth of it for yourself.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe stranger fingered the fob watch I proffered with no more than mild curiosity.  &#8220;I am not the prospective buyer.  But M. Guilbert&#8217;s reputation has reached the ears of my master.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;<em>Your<\/em> master?&#8221;  It seemed unlikely someone dressed in such finery would serve any master.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;The Comte Bachellaix desires to purchase a timepiece.  He has heard that M. Guilbert&#8217;s skills are second to none.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Indeed!&#8221; I said, thinking of the sheaf of unpaid bills stuffed into the ledger book.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;A timepiece suitably decorous for a lady, is what the Comte desires.  You have such things?&#8221; he asked, looking doubtfully at the shelves.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;But of course!  M. Guilbert will be greatly honored to equip the Comtess with the finest, most delicate watch ever assembled.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe man smiled thinly.  &#8220;Yes.  For the purposes of expedience, let us assume this will indeed be a gift for the Comtess.&#8221;  He paused and in the silence the town hall clock in the square could be clearly heard striking eleven.  The gentleman glanced around the silent interior of the shop, frowning.  No echoing chimes came from the dozen or so carriage clocks, not a single one.  Hurriedly I said, &#8220;M. Guilbert will ensure there is a fine selection for the Comte&#8217;s perusal.  I shall wind them personally.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe gentleman grunted.  He wafted a gloved hand ineffectually at the dust hanging in the air.  &#8220;See that you are prepared for the Comte&#8217;s arrival.  He will come at noon tomorrow.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe left and gloomy silence fell over the shop again.  I hesitated by the curtain, knowing better than to draw it back uninvited.  As though reading my thoughts, M. Guilbert snatched it aside and pushed past me.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Damn you, Boy.  Why did you not send him away?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;The Comte is an important man.  And we have bills to pay.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Bills.  Pah.&#8221;  He rummaged in a drawer beneath the counter, returned brandishing a thin jeweler&#8217;s blade which he waved in my face as though I had purposefully hidden it from him.  &#8220;Why does everyone insist on disturbing my work?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Perhaps if you would let me assist you?&#8221; I asked without much hope.  What use was an apprentice whose master would not put him to good use?  Who would not teach all that he knew?  Lately I had begun to dream about M. Guilbert&#8217;s mechanism that he worked on so furtively.  Its little brass parts&#8211;the myriad wheels and ratchets and pinions&#8211;gleamed with a light brighter than any mere reflection and when the mechanism moved, it purred rather than ticked, like some slumbering creature.  Lying in my bedchamber tucked under the shop&#8217;s eaves, I would stare into the darkness and feel the irresistible pull of the device, stronger even than the gravity drawing me to my bed.  I burned to learn more about it.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I think not,&#8221; M. Guilbert said with a final withering stare.  He thrust the curtain back into place behind him.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;These people you so despise are called customers,&#8221; I called.  There was no answer.  The mechanism on the bench was already devouring all his attention.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI sighed.  The Comte&#8217;s visit could be the making of our fortunes, if we played our cards right.  But it had occurred to me that it could be our undoing, too.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe Comte was not a tall man.  Even bewigged, the top of his head did not reach to my shoulders.  Were it not for the ornate embroidery of his cloak, the jewels on his pudgy fingers and the swagger with which he entered our shop, I might have mistaken him for an over-pompous page.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nM. Guilbert stood scowling as I stepped round the counter and paid the Comte the courtesy of a low, formal bow.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nInto the awkward silence that followed, the Comte&#8217;s aide, the gentleman who had visited the previous day, made a small irritated gesture at me and I hurried to produce the little red velvet pouch.  From within I carefully withdrew a silver disk no larger than a sovereign.  It caught the weak rays of light slanting through the freshly scrubbed windows and glinted in my proffered palm.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe aide stepped forward, his face flushed.  &#8220;What is this?  You dare offer the Comte a silver coin as though he has need of money?  Why, that is&#8211;&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Allow me to enlighten,&#8221; said M. Guilbert, stepping between us.  With surprisingly dextrous fingers, he flipped open the upper surface of the disk and we all leaned forwards to get a better look at the miniature dial and delicate clockwork glimpsed within.  &#8220;Those who cannot recognize a mechanism for what it is can scarce have the wit to make use of it.&#8221;  I saw the aide grow red with anger.  &#8220;But,&#8221; M. Guilbert continued, &#8220;I am sure the Comte has no such difficulties.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI held my breath.  The Comte fumbled for a moment, then found the tiny beveled winder and gave it a twist.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Ah!&#8221;  The Comte raised the watch, the better to hear the smooth purr of its motion now that he had set it going.  &#8220;That is indeed most pleasing.  So small!  It scarcely seems possible such a thing could have been wrought by human hands.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nM. Guilbert accepted the compliments with a small nod.  Perhaps he had forgotten how much of the craftsmanship in that particular device had been my own&#8211;skills that ought to have earned me a journeyman accreditation from the Guild had M. Guilbert remembered to put my name forward, which he had not.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;And does it keep time?&#8221; the aide asked, a touch sharply as he tried to recover his poise.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;As well as any sailor&#8217;s chronometer.  Better, even,&#8221; M. Guilbert assured him.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Yet so tiny&#8230;&#8221; the Comte mused.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey perused a dozen or more timepieces, each having been opened and wound by me an hour before the Comte&#8217;s arrival, but always his attention returned to the tiny watch fashioned like a silver sovereign.  Every time the Comte&#8217;s gaze settled on it, I thought of those unpaid bills and how good it would be to free ourselves from debt, and my heart skipped a beat.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBusiness was concluded with a nod from the Comte.  Without a word to us, he left the shop, disappearing behind the lace-curtained windows of his waiting coach.  Pointedly ignoring me, the aide led M. Guilbert to the rear of the shop where they held a whispered conversation.  Then the aide slipped the red velvet pouch containing the watch into a pocket and coolly bade us good day.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI turned to my master.  &#8220;How much did it fetch?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;What a fool the Comte is!  He does not recognize true value even when it is right beneath his nose.  I had no compunction making him pay a fine price for his ignorance.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI smiled.  &#8220;What did it fetch?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;A fine price!&#8221;  M. Guilbert&#8217;s eyes sparkled.  It was rare to see him so animated unless admiring a particularly smooth rotator arm or fine-toothed escapement.  &#8220;The Comte has come into possession of the library of one of the keenest thinkers of our generation.  Yet he does not value books of science and engineering and thought to offer them as a trade.  I have heard of this scholar&#8217;s reputation and now it seems I shall own his priceless notebooks!  If the Comte only knew what he had exchanged so lightly.  They will be shipped from the palace forthwith.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Books?  We have sold one of the finest watches ever crafted not for a king&#8217;s ransom&#8211;which, by the way is its true worth&#8211;but for a pile of old books?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nM. Guilbert&#8217;s smile hardened.  &#8220;Not just books.  Knowledge.  Beyond price.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;How will books settle our debts?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut M. Guilbert twitched the black velvet curtain aside and disappeared behind it, and there was nothing more to be said.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;He will not teach me.  I learn nothing that I have not taught myself through patience and observation and practice.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Poor Johannes.  You are wasted in his service,&#8221; Adrienne said.  As a grocer&#8217;s daughter she knew something of what it meant to be in service, yet her words made me ill at ease.  She traced the lines of the model ship with her fingers, each sliver of wood so perfectly shaped and fitted to the next that the surface was as smooth as polished marble.  &#8220;This is a thing of beauty,&#8221; she said, truthfully.  Fine silk served as sails, cotton thread for the rigging.  Beneath the varnished decks, unseen except by me, were cabins and galleys, furniture and stores, tiny hammocks pitched in rows, baking ovens&#8211;all fashioned from shards of wood and metal and paste, accurate to the last.  It was not such an unusual boyhood dream: to yearn to sail the seas and taste freedom upon the waves, yet how strange that fate landed me in a place three days&#8217; ride from the nearest shores.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;You have such clever hands,&#8221; Adrienne said.  &#8220;Such patience.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I am apprentice to a watchmaker,&#8221; I told her, taking back the model galleon.  &#8220;Dexterity and precision are my trade.  I must find ways to keep them honed.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Surely M. Guilbert tasks you sufficiently?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;M. Guilbert has no use for me!&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI had meant to keep my anger in check, but suddenly it was all there, boiling to the surface.  &#8220;Day after day, he toils at his pet projects, his mechanisms that we can never sell.  I am the one left to mend the clocks and watches brought to us, as best I can.  I am the one who must try to balance the books!  Me, the apprentice!  Customers come because they hear word of the great M. Guilbert.  But if ever they should discover the truth of the craftsmanship they claim to admire, that it is the work of a mere apprentice, what then?&#8221;  I made an effort to unclench my fists.  &#8220;M. Guilbert claims he has no time to teach.  No time for anything but his obsessions&#8211;which he hides from me.  What use is it to be apprenticed to a master who will not teach?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSweetly, Adrienne took my hand in hers and immediately the warmth of her touch calmed me.  &#8220;Then you should leave.  Find another master you can apprentice to.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI half-turned, glancing back across the square as though the little shop might somehow be watching or listening.  &#8220;I should,&#8221; I agreed.  Yet I knew I could not.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe books arrived in a cart, a great stack of them.  I wondered aloud where we would find room to store them.  I placed the half-finished hull of a Portuguese man-o&#8217;-war on a stool out of harm&#8217;s way and opened one of the books at random.  I saw only page after page of incomprehensible equations, meaningless hieroglyphs.  &#8220;Why, these are not even printed books!  Nothing more than jottings in a journal.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nM. Guilbert retrieved the book from my hands and set it with the others in a wobbling column on the counter.  &#8220;They are windows onto the thoughts of a great mind,&#8221; he said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;What is a quantum?&#8221; I asked, pointing at the spine of the top-most volume and refusing to be pacified.  M. Guilbert harrumphed and I thought he meant to ignore my question.  Then he said rather grudgingly, &#8220;It is the smallest quantity of some physical property.  The least possible amount that can suffice.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;And what use is that to a watchmaker?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe shook his head.  &#8220;You wear your ignorance as though it is a badge of honor, Johannes.  You know very well the watchmaker&#8217;s skill concerns the measurement of the very small.  We strive to divide and subdivide a second into ever smaller parts, the better to measure its passing.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Yes.  But with copper and brass and frictionless bearings and ingenious designs.  What use are these mathematical ravings to any of that?&#8221;  I was remembering the hours of work I had put into the Comte&#8217;s watch.  It hadn&#8217;t brought the silver it deserved, only these worthless bundles of paper.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nM. Guilbert sighed.  &#8220;You complain so bitterly of my neglect in tutoring you.  Here then, is a lesson.  Let us see what you are truly capable of understanding.&#8221;  He seized some items from the counter.  &#8220;See?  A <em>grandpater<\/em>.&#8221;  He held up a little brass wheel with its sixty four glittering teeth.  &#8220;And here, the <em>pater<\/em>.&#8221;  He waved a smaller wheel.  &#8220;Combine them and see what happens?&#8221;  I nodded impatiently, unwilling to be patronized in this way.  &#8220;Through the watchmaker&#8217;s skill, the almost imperceptible unwinding of a spring becomes a measure of a passing second.  I have read in these notebooks you so despise that time and position are coupled, and it would seem to be so.  The stately movement of a gearwheel becomes inextricably linked to the passing of a second within our clockwork mechanisms.  What then, is the smallest such movement we can amplify and measure?  The most fleeting instant of time that we can trap?  Is there some theoretical limit in our pursuit of&#8211;&#8221;  He seemed about to say &#8216;perfection&#8217; but stopped himself.  &#8220;Accuracy.  A tenth, a hundredth, a thousandth of a second?  How far can we continue to gear and divide until somewhere the tiniest, almost imperceptible movement of a cog signifies an infinitesimally brief passage of time?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Perhaps there is no limit?&#8221; I ventured.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nM. Guilbert was silent a long time.  &#8220;Perhaps there is,&#8221; he said at last.  &#8220;And if intimate knowledge of time dulls our perception of space?  What then?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Is this how your mechanism functions?&#8221; I asked.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe stared at me, whether in exasperation or pity I was not entirely sure.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;No.  Not like that at all.  Have you heard nothing that I have said?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI shrugged.  &#8220;You have said nothing I didn&#8217;t already know.  When did you ever teach me anything?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIf he was angered by my impertinence, he hid it well, turning back to the counter and beginning to tidy away tools.  &#8220;I have taught you that knowledge is dangerous in the hands of the ignorant.  That the things we learn become us, and the things we do change us.  And those changes cannot always be undone.&#8221;  He seemed to tire suddenly, his whole posture slumping into an old man&#8217;s stoop.  He collapsed onto a nearby stool and there was a brief splintering sound.  M. Guilbert half rose, brushed the seat clear, as if the shards of matchstick were just breadcrumbs left behind from some meal, and sat again.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;The most important lessons you will have to learn yourself,\u201d he said, his voice barely a whisper.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI crept in darkness needing no light to guide me, finding my way by touch and instinct alone.  I knew every board that creaked, every mis-step that might betray my presence.  The mechanism was the only beacon I needed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI had waited patiently at M. Guilbert&#8217;s door, listening.  He was a light sleeper but sometime in the darkest hours after midnight, I heard the pattern of his breathing change into something steadier, deeper.  Yet even now I hesitated to pull back the velvet curtain.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe mechanism called to me.  I had lain in my narrow bed, sleep a distant prospect, my thoughts filled only with tiny cogs and ratchets and shiny brass pins and coiled springs.  I had to see it.  More than that, I felt the need to comprehend its design, no matter how far beyond my grasp.  The mechanism itself demanded to be understood.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWeak moonlight spilling through the shop window was enough to guide me.  I drew back the curtain.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe scale of it took my breath away.  Those furtive glimpses had revealed but a fraction of its size and none of its complexity.  M. Guilbert had wasted no time on ornate cases; a simple iron frame held bracketed segments of the mechanism in place.  A couple of brass plates had been unscrewed, revealing what lay within just as a surgeon&#8217;s scalpel might have laid bare internal organs on a mortuary slab.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe mechanism sprawled across two workbenches pushed together, layer upon layer of finely crafted clockwork and&#8230;  other strange devices that I could not identify.  So many different parts, each poised to spin in their tiny orbits: rocking, clicking, unwinding.  The complexity of it overwhelmed me.  How could I begin to understand more than a fraction of this grand design?  This was no chronometer, no mere timepiece.  This was&#8230;  The truth was, I had no idea.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nM. Guilbert had told me it was not yet finished but clearly there was a mechanism of considerable substance here, of <em>purpose<\/em>.  Some parts I could recognize: flywheel accumulators with their springs slackened, manifold gearing mechanisms, bejewelled rotators.  What an easy thing it would be to prime one of those helical springs, to watch the flywheels spin and hear the tick and whir of a mechanism I could not fathom.  Dare I?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhat harm could it do?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI reached out a hand and caressed the smooth brass surfaces.  My fingertips felt the sharp bite of tiny-toothed pinions, and the slackness in the unwound springs&#8211;metal that felt warm and alive beneath my fingers.  I had the strangest sense that the mechanism itself wished to be set in motion, to be set free.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8211;A small sound came from the room above.  I froze.  I heard footsteps on the stairs and slipped out of the workroom, pressing myself into the darkest corner beneath the counter.  A moment later M. Guilbert passed only inches from me, a stub of candle throwing dancing shadows in his wake.  I did not doubt M. Guilbert&#8217;s capacity for anger or that such flagrant disobedience might lose me my apprenticeship no matter how well I had served.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI heard the curtain twitch into place and the clink of tools being moved and silently released a pent-up breath.  M. Guilbert often worked through until dawn on those nights when he could not sleep.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI waited until I could bear the silence no longer then crept back up the stairs to my own bed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSleep would not come.  My mind was alive with images of the mechanism and with my own unanswered questions.  The act of observing had changed me in some fundamental way.  I felt as if the device had spoken to me and something deep within had answered.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe shop door crashed open.  An unusual time for a customer, so late in the afternoon.  I looked up to see Adrienne, hair disheveled and the most fearful look in her eyes.  &#8220;The town is aflame!&#8221; she yelled.  &#8220;Run for your lives!&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWith the door flung wide, the acrid tang of smoke was unmistakable.  I peered outside and saw bright red flames dancing along the rooftops not fifty yards down the street.  I seized Adrienne&#8217;s arm as she turned away.  &#8220;Where are you going?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I only came to warn you.  My father needs me if we&#8217;re to save what stock we can before his shop burns to the ground.&#8221;  Her expression was wretched.  She pushed a strand of hair from across her face, leaving behind a sooty smear.  Who else, I wondered, would have even bothered to warn us?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Let me go back with you.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;You&#8217;ll stay here, Johannes.&#8221;  M. Guilbert had emerged from behind the curtain, face flushed, expression cold.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAdrienne pulled free and was already halfway out the door.  &#8220;The fire&#8217;s seized hold of the town and isn&#8217;t about to let go,&#8221; she said.  &#8220;Go now while you still can.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI turned back to M. Guilbert, making a pleading gesture to let me follow.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Close and shutter the door!&#8221; M. Guilbert ordered, the tone of command in his voice brooking no argument.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Look for yourself!  We must leave now or we will surely burn!&#8221;  I glanced around.  &#8220;Perhaps we can save some of the watches and clocks.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;As if they mattered.  Come with me.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI followed him behind the curtain where the mechanism lay like some slumbering creature.  M. Guilbert barked a series of orders and I fetched him tools and parts and held the candles closer when he needed more light, and all the while the air grew warmer and the tang of burning wood ever stronger.  M. Guilbert ignored it, bending over his workbench, making tiny adjustments with a jeweller&#8217;s blade here, carefully winding a spring there, like a gardener tending to seedlings, nurturing growth where it was to be encouraged, pinching out where it was not.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhile the fire raged close by, M. Guilbert worked on as if this were just another day&#8211;and I fetched and carried for him.  Madness!  The irony was not lost on me:  here at last I was serving as apprentice to my master, perhaps in the last few minutes we had left together on this earth.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrom outside came the sound of muted screams, the braying of terrified horses and the sound of running feet on the cobbles.  When I peeked round the curtain, I saw little fiery flecks of ash falling like glowing snowflakes beyond the shop windows.  How easily the town burned, I thought.  How easy it was to destroy.  How unjust when it took so long to build and construct.  I fetched several buckets of water and doused the door and window frames, water puddling around me.  It was something, but I doubted it would be enough to save us when the fire reached our little shop.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy master beckoned me back into his inner sanctum, bade me draw the curtain across and close the door that lay behind it.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;M. Guilbert!  I beg you, we must leave!&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nInstead of answering, M. Guilbert drew me closer.  &#8220;See here?  Where this gearing mechanism increments according to the bias of its companion until the pinion moves?&#8221;  I bent closer and nodded.  &#8220;And this compensator?  See how this rod slides to adjust for irregularities?  And here&#8211;a movement which compensates for any deviation in the compensator?&#8221;  He talked on in this fashion, though much of it I barely heard, my mind swamped by fear.  It grew hot in that little room; the air foul.  Yet gradually, despite everything that was happening around us, I found myself transfixed by the intricacies of the mechanism&#8217;s design, the ingenuity of its execution&#8211;things that had been forbidden to me for so long.  I thought I began to understand then.  This was no clock, no crude device for telling the time.  The passing of a second&#8211;or rather the passing of half that time, and half the remainder&#8211;and again and again, each tiny half-increment faithfully accumulated until somewhere deep within the mechanism a wheel turned the tiniest amount, registered the briefest instant imaginable&#8211;and in so doing, laid bare a little of the thread from which time&#8217;s fabric was stitched.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFor what purpose had M. Guilbert designed this?  I could not begin to imagine.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis voice had dropped so low it was scarcely more than a mutter.  He was no longer talking to me I realized, only to himself.  His words sounded like a confession.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd somewhere beyond, the town burned.  Smoke wafted in the air between us, and the crack of beams in neighboring houses shattering in the heat sounded like cannon-fire&#8211;yet distant and intangible.  I began to feel light-headed and it was so very, very hot.  Yet M. Guilbert worked on.  I knew the fire was upon us, surrounding us.  I knew too that the old wooden rafters of the shop would condemn us; I had seen flames shooting skywards and consuming all in their path.  But I couldn\u2019t leave now.  Was it M. Guilbert or the mechanism itself I could not bring myself to abandon?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe candles spluttered and shrank to tiny, indifferent flames as though in defeat.  The smoke thickened until I could not make out details across the room.  Every burning breath felt like it might be my last.  Yet still M. Guilbert muttered about time and space, and talked of duality and uncertainty and the quantum nature of time&#8211;and I understood none of it, nor even cared.  I thought it possible I might have died and that this was some kind of antechamber to hell:  a place of heat and sulfurous fires where M. Guilbert would lecture me on things I could never understand for the rest of eternity.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThen I saw him wind the mechanism.  &#8211;Just a little, a minuscule tightening of a spring here, a flick of a fingertip to set a wheel spinning there.  Even above the fierce crackle of flames outside, I heard the sudden chattering, whirring sound as the mechanism stirred.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI must have reached for the door for M. Guilbert\u2019s hand was suddenly upon mine.  &#8220;The outcome is changed by the observer,&#8221; he said cryptically.  &#8220;You must not look outside.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe world grew hazy.  Perhaps I fainted.  Certainly I remember feeling the heat of the floorboards pressing against the side of my face and in a strange way feeling comforted by it.  I saw a shaft of light beneath the door where the drafts blew in and the curtain did not fall straight.  Where I lay, I could glimpse the world beyond through that narrow slit.  M. Guilbert had bade me not to look but I could not help myself.  I saw&#8230;  <em>Something<\/em>.  Perhaps I saw flames licking at the walls, or smoke rolling like ocean waves down the street, and yet I rather think I saw nothing at all.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI remember too, in the delirium of the moment, hearing sounds from outside that could not be&#8211;screeches like the cry of seagulls, the lap and draw of the tide on a beach, the snap of sails catching the breeze.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAt some point I must have crawled into the little cot in the corner where M. Guilbert sometimes napped.  I slept as I had never done before, waking briefly several times yet knowing I must still be dreaming.  Once I thought I heard the hiss of snowflakes driven against the windows of the shop and shivered as tendrils of cold percolated beneath the door.  Another time I heard a constant, high-pitched scratching sound, like the chorus of a million insects serenading me.  I felt an oppressive heat settle across the room and heard the calls of unidentifiable creatures carried on moisture-laden air.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI drifted in and out of consciousness, and the world drifted with me.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMuch later, when some of the townsfolk came searching, they expected to find only our charred bodies.  When I stirred and sat up, face black with soot, one of the men screamed as though I were a ghoul rising from the grave.  M. Guilbert sat quietly in the corner next to the stilled mechanism, now covered by its dust-sheet.  The little watchmaker&#8217;s shop, scorched and singed by fire, had been the only dwelling in the street to survive virtually unscathed.  In the following weeks as the town began to rebuild what had been lost, there were many who shook their heads and called it a miracle that the shop had not been taken by the flames.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut there were some who muttered different words under their breath.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe fire had exacted a terrible toll on the town but not so terrible that it broke the townsfolk&#8217;s spirit.  The stalwart men and women had seen their town scarred by war and disease and times of great hardship.  This was nothing that could not be put right with patient hard work and they began to rebuild even while embers still glowed in the streets ravaged by fire.  I knew I should be helping the less fortunate but I felt uneasy leaving the shop unless absolutely necessary.  Naturally I was curious to know who had perished.  Sometimes I looked for familiar faces&#8211;or more tellingly their absence&#8211;through the little windows of the watchmaker&#8217;s shop but mostly I saw only strangers, as though the memories of people I once knew had already faded.  Hadn&#8217;t there been a girl who had come to warn us? But try as I might I could not recall her name and in truth her fate no longer seemed important.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThen too, M. Guilbert kept me busy, and that was gratifying.  Smoke and heat had damaged some timepieces and it fell to me to clean and repair those that were salvageable.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIf I expected new bonds to have been forged between us, I soon realized my mistake.  M. Guilbert would occasionally inspect a piece that I worked upon, offering words of advice, or guiding my hand as I beat or filed tiny slivers of brass into shape.  But he would not speak of his own work, nor let me near the mechanism again.  I caught him watching me covertly many times, the look on his face both suspicious and perplexed as though I had done something to vex him.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI wrote down all that I could recall M. Guilbert saying during his frantic work on the mechanism, but none of it made sense.  I had heard him speak of certain principles that could never be known with utter certainty, that if we knew precisely <em>where<\/em> then we could never know <em>when<\/em>&#8211;as though to measure one with absolute precision inevitably meant relinquishing control over the other.  But I could see no sense behind it all.  Time and place were just&#8230; time and place.  And now my frustration was worse than before.  For a brief moment I had felt like the apprentice to a great master.  Now I was nothing again:  the apprentice whose master kept his secrets to himself.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd so I began to formulate my plan.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nM. Guilbert no longer slept in his room.  He worked late every night, eventually dozing next to the mechanism before rising at dawn to begin work again.  Yet he seemed to have abandoned the mechanism for his books.  I saw no tools out of place, no parts scattered across the work surface.  The mechanism stayed hidden beneath its shroud.  At noon I would prepare a simple lunch for my master and occasionally he would nap for an hour in the comfort of his proper bed before resuming his studies and reading long into the night.  That hour afforded me my opportunity.  If the master would not teach, then I would have to learn for myself.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFor all its burgeoning complexity and strange function, the mechanism was still at heart a timepiece.  I could see that much.  I recognized movements, torsion balances, escapements, pinions&#8211;items familiar enough to any half-competent watchmaker.  Fine-toothed gears meshed, gear trains transported movement across the device, tiny jewel-mounted oscillators sat ready to vibrate the moment their springs were wound.  But for each element I recognized and understood, a dozen more were a mystery.  I intuited that M. Guilbert had constructed layer upon layer of correctional elements, each resolving ever finer gradations of time until he measured and trapped the smallest possible interval, if such a thing could even exist.  Was there even now somewhere in the heart of this device a subtle movement of a cog, a single tick of the great device that would signify such an instant?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI remembered M. Guilbert&#8217;s description of the thing he called &#8216;quantum.&#8217;  <em>The least possible amount that can suffice.<\/em>  Suffice for what, I wondered?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd I wondered too, what would happen were the mechanism to be <em>properly<\/em> wound and set going.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOne morning I rose to find the curtain to M. Guilbert&#8217;s workspace drawn back, unusual in itself.  My master was bent over the mechanism and I felt my heartbeat quicken to see him working on it again.  But I sensed a change.<br \/>\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 doing?&#8221; I asked.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe turned, and I saw the hollow eyes, the lines on his face.  I had always thought of M. Guilbert as an old man, but never this old.  &#8220;I have been a fool,&#8221; he told me.  &#8220;I let myself become obsessed by the art of the possible and lost sight of the dangers.  Some ideas are better left unexplored.&#8221;  He reached out and put a hand on my shoulder.  &#8220;I am sorry too if I have neglected my duties as teacher, though I think you have learnt more than you realize.  But to put you in such danger was unforgivable.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;What danger?  What are you talking about?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe blinked, turning his attention back to the tiny screwdriver he was inserting deep into the workings.  I swear I saw the glitter of tears in his eyes before he turned away.  I had witnessed his many moods over the years:  stubbornness, irascibility, child-like delight at some piece of cleverness in one of his designs&#8211;but never had I seen this kind of emotion laid so bare.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Johannes, I will make it up to you.  We will make a journeyman of you yet.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;But what are you doing?&#8221; I persisted.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I am dismantling the mechanism,&#8221; he said, without turning round.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI tried to distract him:  irrelevant questions about commissions yet to be fulfilled, supplies to be ordered, even what meals I should prepare.  He brushed all these aside.  If anything, he worked with even greater application than before, teasing apart the mechanism, neatly stacking components back in their drawers and trays.  Were it not for the mechanism&#8217;s sheer size and complexity, the task might have been completed quickly, but it was clear to me it would take days to carry out this slow dismembering.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhile M. Guilbert napped, I spent every moment poring over the new sections that he had exposed, trying to see how the pieces fit together.  In my head, I kept a plan as best I could, wondering if I would ever have the skill to somehow rebuild what was slowly being lost.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThen with no warning M. Guilbert fell ill, complaining of stomach pains and a headache.  He struggled on until the discomfiture grew so strong he was forced to climb the stairs with heavy steps and retire to his bedchamber.  I brought him hot broth at regular intervals, though he was able to keep little enough down.  I cared for him as best I could and made him comfortable.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHere, at last, was my chance.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSeveral days passed and M. Guilbert grew a little worse, not better.  I began to worry that the tincture I had carefully measured and stirred into M. Guilbert&#8217;s meals&#8211;paints and dyes I used on my model ships&#8211;had been more strongly acting than I realized.  He slept for all but a few hours of the day, and his skin grew pallid and grey.  I supposed I should send for a doctor, but I was afraid the cause of his sickness might be discovered.  I did not mean for M. Guilbert to die, and yet&#8230;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd yet it afforded me the time and space to work on the mechanism unfettered.  I kept the shop door barred and shuttered.  I worked from first light until late into the night when my eyes became too gritty and unfocused to allow me to continue my work.  It was clear I did not have M. Guilbert&#8217;s finesse nor his understanding.  Despite my careful observations, not all the pieces seemed to fit as I would wish, so I fashioned new ones, adapting the design to one of my own.  It took me days to repair the damage done but I thought I understood enough.  And who was there to stop me?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nM. Guilbert clung to life, barely.  His breathing was so shallow as to be imperceptible.  Sometimes I stood by his bed, convinced he had slipped away, only to see a twitch of muscle or hear a murmur escape his lips.  Once, I thought he might be trying to say something and leant closer.  &#8220;An observer&#8211;&#8221; he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, &#8220;changes the outcome.  Remember that.&#8221;  A hand grasped my arm with shocking suddenness, those long, delicate fingers still powerful enough to leave bruises in my flesh.  &#8220;Don&#8217;t&#8230; look!&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI had no idea what he meant.  There were a dozen questions on my tongue but the effort of speaking had exhausted him and he slipped into unconsciousness once more.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI felt the call of the mechanism stronger than ever.  The work was nearly done; the end of the matter so close.  I could sense the physical bulk of it in the room below, a latent presence like a living thing about to be born.  I obeyed its call because to do anything else would be inconceivable.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt had grown late by the time I laid aside the last of my tools.  My head pounded and fatigue had settled over me, dulling my thoughts.  Yet it was done.  I hefted the little brass key, no bigger than my index finger, and wondered if I should wait for the morning and a clear head.  But how could I sleep knowing that the mechanism sat ready, needing only to be wound?  The mechanism would never let me rest.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI slipped the key onto the spindle and gave it a half twist.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt pleased me beyond words to think that I shared some small measure of credit for this mechanism.  To be sure, M. Guilbert&#8217;s genius had conceived it, but my labors had rebuilt those parts that had been disassembled.  No hand had guided mine, only my instinctive grasp of its form and function.  My efforts were crude and rough-edged compared to the elegant precision of my master&#8217;s handiwork, but good enough, I believed.  And far beyond the work of a mere apprentice.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI twisted the key again, a touch more savagely this time.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWas it too much to hope that my name might one day be spoken of in exalted circles?  Or would it still be M. Guilbert who got all the credit?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnother full turn.  I could feel how tight the spring was becoming, ready to release its energy the moment I let go of the key.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe blame for this was M. Guilbert&#8217;s.  He should have instructed me more diligently in his craft.  Trusted me.  Had I not been a willing pupil?  Instead, when he had deigned to notice me, all I received were his patronizing words.  <em>Johannes.  You do not understand the lessons you have already learned.<\/em><br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe key was becoming harder to turn now, quivering in my grip as I fought the spring\u2019s tension.  I let my hand drop and took a step back.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFor a moment the mechanism was utterly still.  I wondered if my repairs had failed after all.  Then I became aware of a change, like a gentle ripple spreading through the clockwork.  I recalled that some of M. Guilbert&#8217;s finer pocket watches had movements so smooth they could not be said to tick; rather they hummed.  If so, then this device <em>sang<\/em>.  It was surely a song no human ears had ever heard before.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI looked closer, seeing tiny wheels deep inside the mechanism turning so fast as to blur.  Accumulators shunted against their ratchets.  Everywhere I looked, brass glinted in the candlelight as gearwheels spun, clicked and oscillated like some creature come to life.  Flawed though it might be by my crude craftsmanship, I had breathed life into this clockwork.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI had a sudden fear then: of powers within the universe I did not understand, of time itself as some unfathomable quantity.  What was it that M. Guilbert had read in those notebooks of his that had scared him so badly he had begun to dismantle his life&#8217;s work?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe mechanism whirred, trapping and meting out time in quantum intervals for purposes I would never understand.  <em>The least possible amount that would suffice.<\/em>  And even so&#8230;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe world did not end.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTime did not stand still.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy heart continued to beat.  I watched my chest move with each breath.  Dust stirred on currents of air.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLife continued.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSuddenly heady with elation I threw open the door of the watchmaker&#8217;s shop to draw a breath of fresh air and feel the morning sun on my skin.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI looked outside.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut outside was nothing, just a vast, blank grayness.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTime and place.  Place and time.  Did it follow with some kind of relentless logic that to measure one with absolute precision was to banish the other completely?  Then I remembered M. Guilbert&#8217;s words.  <em>The outcome is changed by the observer.<\/em><br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI had set the mechanism going and it had measured a quantum of time, laid bare the detail of its warp and weft, the very threads from which it was stitched.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd now we were nowhere, nowhere at all.<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"bloodwater\"><\/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>When Bloodwater Boils<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy Peter Ryan<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThirsty are the lips that taste the ocean. Sick is the belly that braves the stream. Dirty are the hands that bathe in bloodwater.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt had been one of his mother\u2019s favorite things to say. What it meant would depend on the occasion. It could mean: you shouldn\u2019t have drunk that, it\u2019ll make you sick. Or: whatever trouble it is you\u2019re in, you have only yourself to blame. She also could mean it literally. As in: don\u2019t touch the bloodwater, it\u2019ll dirty your hands.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut Nisean had weak arms, which meant he was no good for the mines. His sight was too poor for the rangers. He couldn\u2019t read or write, and in any case, the shopkeepers had never liked the looks of him, with his filthy black hair and that scar from lip to chin where a horse had once kicked him. He looked like the sort that would rob them blind. And he might have, if it came down to it.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut there was money in bloodwater. Even for a boy with no skills.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt wouldn\u2019t be the first time he\u2019d ignored his mother\u2019s advice.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe old man sniffed suspiciously at the day\u2019s catch, which Nisean carefully laid out across his counter. He had wrapped them in his own undershirts, since he had no paper.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat did you bring me?\u201d the merchant demanded, though the answer was plain. They were fish, but not ordinary fish. Their scales sparkled green, with flashes of red when they caught the sun at the right angle.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIf you can name them,\u201d the boy answered, \u201cthen you know your fish better than me. I\u2019ve never seen the like.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNisean was thirteen. He was tall for his age, but his voice was still high and thin.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThree coppers?\u201d the man demanded skeptically, his eyes directed to the scales, as if the fish themselves might name their price.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSix,\u201d Nisean countered.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSix!\u201d the man repeated, \u201cSix if they swallowed your mother\u2019s pearls. What would you say to four?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNisean nodded hesitantly.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou\u2019ve robbed me!\u201d the man cried with feigned bitterness. Then he dropped the coins onto the counter one at a time. They clattered noisily against the wood.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe boy smiled. He had no way of knowing the fish were worth five times that sum. He was on his own now, and he had to make do with what wits were left to him.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis mother had succumbed to the Nuisance. That\u2019s what people were calling it now, but when she had been struck with it, it had no name. She just started bleeding for no reason\u2014a little at first, dabbing her nose from time to time, but then in a steady, gushing stream.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey said you should steer clear of the houses where the illness had taken hold.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNisean hadn\u2019t left. He had washed her linens, made her soup, and wiped the blood from her nose, her eyes, and her ears. He had tended to her until her last day. He\u2019d loved her, but he also hadn\u2019t known what else to do.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere was a hole dug by a dire rat just beneath Master Tarogan\u2019s barn. The burrow was nearly tall enough to stand in, and the rat died or moved on, so Nisean claimed it as his own.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe could get a room at the inn for six coppers, or he could eat for the next six days\u2014soup and hard cheese even, not just bread. He was smart enough, at least, to prefer a full belly to a soft pillow. So he cozied into the rat\u2019s nest, letting the sound of the rain pouring down over Tarogan\u2019s cornfields lull him to sleep.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSome said the bloodwater came from the other side of the ocean, where the men lived wild and free. Some argued it was the water from the land of the dead. Others still claimed it came from the ancient past, when men, apes, and wolves all traveled in the same pack, and giants roamed the hills. One thing everyone agreed on was that if you went under the bloodwater, you never came back again.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt cropped up everywhere, like a weed. You could find bloodwater sometimes in puddles or in the middle of the ocean. If you poured a pitcher of water into a bowl, it might take on the same reddish hue.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt was never hard to find in the marshes. Beyond a thicket of reeds, Nisean found a patch large enough to wade in. He shuffled over to its outer edge. Then he rolled his sleeve up all the way to his shoulder, knelt down in the swamp where it was muddy but still somewhat clear, and plunged his arm into the opaque crimson depths.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNisean stretched his arm as far as he could, until he thought his bones might pop from his joint, but he felt only water at the tips of his fingers. Then, without warning, something slimy brushed up against him, and he yanked his hand out of the water.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt\u2019s just a fish, he reminded himself, Just a fish.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe dunked his arm back in to see if it would bite. He felt a nibble at his fingers. Whatever it was, it was big.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNisean felt a sharp sting between his wrist and his elbow, as though a hundred tiny hooks had clung to his flesh. He pulled up, but it hurt worse when he did, and his arm didn\u2019t budge. The fish yanked hard and pulled him in, all but his legs. He screamed, the air bubbles spitting out from his mouth and tickling his cheek. He pulled back again, but this only made the fish tug down harder, until he was fully submerged.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhat surprised him the most was that the water was not entirely dark. There were bursts of light all around him, like fireworks seen through a murky red glass. He heard a creaking sound, like a ship capsizing, and voices singing without words. The melody was alarming in its simplicity: two notes, one high and one low.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNisean kicked and kicked until he had set himself free, breaking to the surface. He pulled himself back up into the swamp, grasping at reeds. The bloodwater shrank behind him, until the black patch was gone. He began spitting into the air and dry heaving in case any of it had gotten down his throat.  Three teaspoons of bloodwater was said to be enough to cripple a man, and four to kill him.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere was a chill that didn\u2019t leave him, even after he had spent several hours drying in the sun.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWalking back to town, it began to rain again. A kindly looking woman herded her cattle back into the barn near the road, and Nisean had half a mind to ask her if he could join them, but her face curdled like old milk when she saw the question forming on his lips. He cast his eyes silently back down to the road in front of him.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe felt the copper coins in his pocket, tracing his finger around the face of the Emperor. As precious as they were to him, they were of no greater worth now than a bed, or a piping hot bath. He headed to the inn.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen he woke the next morning, the pillow beneath him had turned mostly red. He dabbed his nose and his finger returned with blood on it. He felt no pain.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis mother had lived six months from the time of her first symptoms, he reminded himself, but for some reason, this seemed only to add to his burden. Six months of scraping by. Sleeping in the open air. Eating stale bread. He would work and struggle right up to the end.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nYesterday\u2019s discovery weighed suddenly heavy on his mind. It was a lie that one could not enter the bloodwater and return. A lie is an opportunity to tell the truth had been another one of his mother\u2019s favorite sayings. But it seemed to him now more like an opportunity for profit.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe returned to the swamp in earnest. It was hot and the water steamed, creating a thick, soupy fog. The air cleared when he hit upon a small island of mud and brambles. He could see a bit of bloodwater a little further. The opening was just wide enough for him to slip through.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe placed his hands at his sides and dove in feet first. His head dipped beneath the water but then bobbed up again. He grabbed at the muddy soil and attempted to push himself back down again, kicking frantically to dig deeper into the water.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe saw a flash of yellow light. Then one of blue and green. The lights were everywhere, like fireflies on a warm summer night. He pushed himself deeper and deeper into the water, keeping his eyes wide open and alert.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe heard the creaking again, the sound of wood under pressure, no different really than the way the stairs at the inn had buckled beneath his weight. With it, came the two notes, high and low.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAs he burrowed deeper into the water, he could see the ship. The quick flashes of light seemed to be concentrated there, as if they were feeding off the wreckage. When they lit up, many at a time, he could see it dimly. Otherwise, it blended in with the dark.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe hit the bottom, sand kicking up beneath him from an eel that zigzagged out from its hiding place between two large stones. There was no gold and no jewels there, as far as he could see.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe ship was tilted toward him. There was an enormous crack in the hull and he swam through it. He knew he would either find something to scavenge immediately or return to the surface empty handed. He was running out of air.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe flashes of light here had gathered around a door. He could see the bodies now of these fish, if that\u2019s what one would call them. They had bubbly, transparent skin, revealing intricate pink organs within. They were the source of the sounds\u2014some sang high, some low, each attracting the other.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNisean tugged at the door, but it wouldn\u2019t budge. He leveraged his foot against the wall and tried again, with the full weight of his body. The door cracked open. The boat creaked and the bubbles of light made circles around the door, trying to push their way in. Three bodies poured out, pressing into Nisean. They were mostly bone by now, with patches of flesh and fabric here and there oddly preserved, sticking to the bone like egg sticks to a pan.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe frantically kicked them off, as if the corpses were attempting to devour him. Then he felt a sting on his shoulder. One of the fish, the bubbles of light, had bitten him.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe pushed his way out of the boat, and launched himself towards the surface, realizing only now how difficult it might be to find his way back to the opening through which he had come.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe felt a bite on his cheek and another on his abdomen. Then, just above, he caught a glimpse of natural light.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe broke to the surface, gasping for breath, and then he pulled himself up out of the bloodwater and into the swamp.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe crawled to the small island of mud and brambles, nursing his wounds. Then he cried.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNisean spent the night in the hole beneath Master Tarogan\u2019s barn. In the morning, he could hear boots crunching their way through the corn stalks.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGet out,\u201d Master Tarogan shouted. He stood many feet away from the burrow and peered into the dark uncertainly, from a distance.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNisean crawled out of his hole. The man immediately began to cough. Blood gushed out from his throat onto his chin, drenching his beard. He fell to the ground, heaving.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNisean started to rush to his side, but the man held up his hand to stop him.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cStay away boy,\u201d he growled irritably. Then he stomped up the cobbled path to his house.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019ve got it!\u201d the boy cried.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe man turned. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. When he saw that Nisean was serious, they softened. Then he cast them like stones to the ground, avoiding his gaze. He seemed saddened or ashamed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSame as you,\u201d Nisean said, \u201cI\u2019ve got the Nuisance. But it\u2019s early for me yet. I could take care of things for a time. Make you comfortable. Like I did for my Ma.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe man looked up, his face no less ashen, but his curiosity piqued.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow was she,\u201d he asked, \u201cAt the end?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBrave,\u201d the boy lied, \u201cTo the last.\u201d<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey hung the kettle above an enormous fire in the hearth. Nisean and the man sat together in ornately carved wooden chairs, cushioned with red pillows stuffed with feathers. It was cozy, and it was warm. But when Nisean checked the water to see how it was coming along, it had turned crimson.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBloodwater,\u201d the boy groaned.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cPour it out,\u201d Master Tarogan instructed, \u201cStart again.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNisean took the kettle outside and dumped it into the grass. He refilled it from a jug and placed it again over the fire.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDeath comes to tea,\u201d the man called out, \u201cwhen bloodwater boils.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNisean returned to his seat.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMy mother always used to say that,\u201d he explained.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe sat in silence for awhile. The dead quiet held the room for so long that Nisean came to think that the man had fallen asleep.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat would you do,\u201d Master Tarogan asked abruptly, perking up in his chair, \u201cIf you could do anything?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNisean considered. \u201cLive a good, long life.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI mean,\u201d he said, \u201cIn the time that you had. If you had all the money you needed to do whatever you want.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNisean furrowed his brow in concentration.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDunno,\u201d he said, \u201cI\u2019d like to sail the sea.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe man laughed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat\u2019s funny?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo offense,\u201d he said, \u201cI was a seaman for many years. You don\u2019t have the arms.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNisean nodded and stared at the fire. They were quiet for a time.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI have a small boat,\u201d Master Tarogan added, \u201cI\u2019ll take you on the water tomorrow in the morning, should God grant me the strength.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe boy smiled appreciatively, but he knew that when morning came, the odds of the man feeling up to this were slim.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt is important to see all the good things in this world,\u201d the man concluded, \u201cbefore they are gone.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe logs cracked in the fire, splitting in two. Master Tarogan was asleep in his chair long before the water was ready. Nisean set the kettle aside and brought the man a blanket, covering him lap to chin.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe turned his thoughts to the ocean. To ships and sails. Islands with clear blue water and beaches of white sand. Endless days drifting and the yearning for the shore.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIf not tomorrow, then soon, he promised himself, he would set sail. The winds would take him wherever they willed. And for a short while, he would be content.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt seemed like an eternity before the kettle whistled with steam.<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"pen\"><\/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>The Pen<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy Mark Bilsborough<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey say success is one part talent, two parts application and three parts luck. Well until that dark November night I had no cause to believe otherwise, and every cause to bemoan my fate. I was a writer with talent in abundance, and a steady determination, but good fortune had at that point been as elusive as snow in summer.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI returned to my rooms late, having spent the evening in a tavern at the end of the road called, ironically, the Shakespeare, a name which was undoubtedly given to mock me. I had been moderately, pleasantly drunk until it became my turn to stand a round, and then, discovering that I had but one farthing to my name, had to suffer the ignominy of being thrown out onto the street by men I believed to be friends.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy attic room was up three flights of stairs and in my drunken state I had quite forgotten the creaking floorboard outside my landlady\u2019s quarters. She must have been waiting for me to return, for she had her speech carefully planned.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMr. Humbolt, if I might have a word?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy landlady was a comely widow not yet into middle age and normally a delight to gaze upon, but that evening I could not bear to face her. \u201cIt is very late, Mrs. Prentice.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s about the rent.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTomorrow. It is far too late now.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSo is the rent. And you promised it tomorrow three weeks ago.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe was still talking as I slammed my door and struggled to remove my boots. Her subsequent knock was far from timid.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhen I sell my next story, Mrs. Prentice. Then you will have your rent.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTomorrow, Mr. Humbolt,\u201d she shouted through the thick wood. \u201cOr you will need to find new lodgings.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy fire had grown cold, grey coals barely glowing. I didn\u2019t bother checking the pail for more. Those were the last. There was barely enough heat in them to light a taper for my candles. I shivered with the realization that these, too, needed to be rationed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt had not always been that way. When I first came to London to seek out the great Mr. Dickens I felt my fortune was assured. My parents had predicted otherwise but I had not really believed my father when he said \u2018come back a raging success or do not come back at all\u2019. But my letters asking for support went unanswered and my fortunes became ever more precarious.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI first saw the great writer in a salon off the Charing Cross Road, giving a public reading of his most recent success, an oversentimental serialized tale called David Copperfield. I was mesmerized, and could barely summon the courage to approach him after his performance. I had hoped he would take me under his wing, but instead as soon as I announced myself a fellow writer his face took on a haunted look and he peered ostentatiously at his pocket watch. But I was dogged in my pursuit and eventually he offered me the crumb of an introduction to his editor, a redoubtable looking fellow by the name of John Forster, before departing hurriedly to his carriage, leaving the grim faced editor behind to respond to my entreaties.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAlas, Forster proved no judge of talent and my work was swiftly rejected. I was not to be deterred, however, and soon sent other work, and found other editors and sent them my stories too.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTo no avail. So that chill evening I sat in fading candlelight contemplating eviction and disgrace. There was nothing more I could do.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere was, though, one more action I could take. I had often stood in the middle of Tower Bridge late into the evening looking out over the dirty water of the Thames and listened to the cold, siren cry of the murky eddies entreating the unwary and despairing to join them. Now I, too, was in that sorry state of desolation and hopelessness. My path was clear.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nInvigorated by my new resolve, I decided to write a long note, which would no doubt be published to great acclaim posthumously, for what kind of writer would I be if I did not take the opportunity for one final flourish.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAlas my inkwell was dry. Frustrated, I began searching the drawers of my writing desk for fresh supplies, but to no avail. Was I to be denied the satisfaction of my final flourish simply because I had run out of ink?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI had a newfound determination though, now that I was on my final chapter.  I recalled that it had been the fashion when this desk was built to include secret drawers and hidden compartments. I had not found any to date, but then, I had barely looked. Now, though, I examined the inlays in great detail. At the side, on the right, obscured by carved filigree, I found what I was looking for.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt opened with a slight push and clicked back, as if sprung. It was a thin shelf, capable of holding little more than a sheaf of letters. At first I thought it empty, but then I saw a faint gleam emanating from the very back of the drawer. I looked closely. It was a pen, with a smooth wooden shaft and bright, golden inlays. The gold encircled the pen and as I turned it I could make out the words \u2018creatio ex nihilo\u2019 in elaborate script.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI had no idea how the pen got there. I acquired the desk from a second hand emporium on the Portobello Road and could only surmise that it had been there all along, forgotten by the previous owner.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere was something else at the back of the drawer, wedged between bottom and top. A small bottle of ink. I could at last write my final note.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI filled my inkwell then paused. Perhaps, with a fine pen such as that, there was one more story within me. So with the resignation of repeated rejection I lifted the pen and dipped it in the ink. It was light to my touch, and as I began writing I felt my mood lighten as well. With all my previous stories I had needed copious notes beforehand, and hours of quiet contemplation in front of a roaring log fire, brandy in hand. This time, however, the words came immediately, and I found myself writing a fantastic story of supernatural intrigue, as worthy as anything from the pen of Mr. Poe or Mr. Hawthorne. Or even, if I may be immodest, Mr. Dickens himself.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI did not sleep that night. Instead, I filled page after page with thrilling prose and knew then that desperation had given me my muse. With restored spirits I dashed down the stairs, manuscript in hand, and ran out into the street.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt was barely eight o\u2019clock when I arrived at the offices of Bentley\u2019s Miscellany and I did not leave until well into the evening, when they had agreed to accept my story for a fee which exceeded my wildest expectations.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nElated, I ran half way across London back to my lodgings to tell Mrs. Prentice the good news. She was dubious at first, but with contract in hand I soon won her over and, with the added persuasion of a glass or two of Burgundy from my last remaining bottle, all talk of rent due was duly postponed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe story was a huge success, and there were more to follow. With my pen in hand I spent my days writing feverishly, page upon page of mesmeric storytelling. I wrote of dark spirits and soaring battles, of men laid low by war and entranced by victory. I wrote of obsession and compulsion, great achievement and heart-breaking tragedy, and of a man, not unlike myself, achieving the greatness due to him and the respect and admiration of a grateful society.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn short, I had achieved all that I set out to do.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nPerhaps that was why, one summer afternoon, I slumped exhausted in my seat and gazed longingly at the bright blue sky outside, wanting nothing more than to sit in St James\u2019 Park staring at the ducks in the lake whilst drinking in the sunshine. I could do none of that, though, for my writing compulsion was too strong. Every day since I found the pen I had written page after page and, suddenly weary, I realized I needed a rest. Why not take some time to enjoy the rewards of success?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy hand moved across the page, spinning some yarn about a man constructing wings wide enough to fly to the heavens, but my heart was not in it. I willed myself to stop writing, but to no avail. Angrily I tore my hand away and in the violence of my movement, banged it hard against the edge of my heavy marble mantelpiece. I cried in pain, knowing instantly that something was broken, but that pain was tempered with elation as I realized I would not be able to write again for some time. I was released from my compulsion.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI headed for the door, eager to head for the park, but as I reached for the latch I heard a dull scratching behind me and, turning, saw the pen moving completely of its own volition across the paper!<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI was stunned. As I watched, the pen continued my story, in my handwriting, as if I were guiding it myself. I concluded, as any sane man would, that the pain in my hand had dulled my perceptions and I was hallucinating. I needed medical treatment.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen I returned from the hospital in a state of euphoric sedation and with a heavily bandaged hand I noted with some detachment that the story was complete, and the pen was in the process of writing another.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe pen\u2019s stories were every bit as lauded as my own. Indeed, I began to suspect that the tales I thought of as mine also sprang from the pen. Even after my hand had healed I had no need to pick up the pen. It seemed perfectly content to write on its own, provided I kept it supplied with paper and ink.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt was at that point that I started drinking absinthe hoping, perhaps, to gain an insight on those strange occurrences. The stories the pen was writing were undoubtedly the kind of tales I would have written, only better executed, and that realization hit me hard. I was redundant save as supplier of materials and delivery man to my publisher and although my fame was assured and growing, it began to feel increasingly hollow and fraudulent.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOne night, on a chill November night not unlike the one in which I first discovered the hateful thing, in drunken delirium I became enraged by its incessant scratching, audible over the sound of the cracking flames from the fire.  I snatched the almost completed manuscript and began reading.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt was a tale about a vain, arrogant man who believed himself to be more talented than he actually was, who stumbled on the kind of success others had to work hard for, and wasted that success on petty indulgences.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy hands shook. With fury I headed over to the fire with the intention of thrusting the odious story into the flames. But something drew my attention, just at the last moment. I turned to see the pen impossibly suspended in mid-air, and I imagined it looking at me as if in reproach. I pulled my arms back, ready to throw the sheaf of paper. But as I did so, the pen turned in the air until its nib pointed straight at me. It moved backwards, and, like a catapult bolt, flew across the room. Startled, I lost my footing as the pen impaled itself in my chest, digging deep into my heart.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAs I lay dying I could hear the pen, ignoring me once more, scratching away.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJoshua Humbolt wrote this story posthumously, of course. Or, rather, I wrote it for him. I found in Mrs. Prentice a willing supplier of paper and patience, and unlike the unfortunate Mr. Humbolt she has no pretentions to talent of her own. Instead, she is content to let me draw stories from her, to be my inspiration and my public face. In return she is happy to reap the not inconsiderable rewards that brings. She no longer has to take in lodgers, and I am free to write. She does not have the same dark brooding arrogance that my Humbolt-tinged tales could project, but there is a ready market for stories flavored with hope and beauty, and I find the change of tone pleasing.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOne day, of course, Mrs. Prentice will no longer be here and someone else will find me, in a drawer in a desk at a junkshop, just waiting to be picked up.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd then there will be new stories.<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>Ladder of 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 Dale L. Sproule<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI tried to meet Mom\u2019s flickering, pixellated gaze as it skittered across the screen, and to parse meaning from snippets as her voice shifted in and out of audibility, \u201cLots of people asked about you\u2026 with this fever\u2026 won\u2019t let me\u2026 bloodwork\u2026 don\u2019t know how long I\u2019ll be here\u2026 have to come home for high school in September if Dad can\u2019t find you a tutor\u2026\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe trip-planning sites all warned that Myanmar had the worst connectivity in Asia. No lie. We were waiting for delivery of a satellite dish, but in this part of the country, the electrical supply was as much an issue as the signal.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMom had gone back to Toronto for cancer treatment, leaving me stranded in Mawlamyin with Dad as he carried on converting the old rubber plantation into a museum\/hotel\u2013certain that it would attract a steady and lucrative stream of cultural and academic tourists.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTwelve Oaks Estate sat in the center of a pegboard orchard of old and stingy rubber trees \u2013 a morning wagon\u2019s ride west of the enclave of colonial mansions known as little England. As far as I knew, there wasn\u2019t an actual oak tree within 1,000 klicks. The house was a vast block of stone that had long since lost most of its balconies and porches and canopies to rot and rust.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe day I met Lawrence, was the first day of the rewiring, so all the electrical power in the house was switched off \u2013 no air conditioning, no TV, no computer. The contractor doing the reno didn\u2019t want the boss\u2019 son \u201cunderfoot,\u201d so I didn\u2019t have access to most of the house. I couldn\u2019t go outside because the gatherers didn\u2019t want people wandering the grounds of the plantation \u2013 outside of organized tours \u2013 for fear they would get in the way of the tappers or inadvertently contaminate the cup things they collect the latex in. Even though Dad had let me shadow him one day, he made it clear that I was a big distraction that couldn\u2019t happen often. And he didn\u2019t trust me to go into town on my own.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nDad had augmented the library with books he\u2019d collected for display at the hotel \u2013 antiques and early editions to augment the immersive experience of living in a British colonial mansion: Robert Louis Stevenson, Daniel Dafoe, Rudyard Kipling. I read them mostly because there was nothing else to do.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd I slept.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI dreamed of boarding the subway at Museum Station. There were no other passengers except for a young woman at the far end of the train. As I walked toward her, she stood and I saw that she was wearing a deep green Edwardian dress with lace across the d\u00e9colletage, her long dark hair twirled atop her head with emerald combs. The air around her was a stale, slightly rotten potpourri of disquiet and despair. As beautiful as she was, there was no joy in her demeanor. Sadness clung to her, emanated from her. And need \u2013 an unfed hunger that sucked up the light as she put her hand on my shoulder and stared into my eyes. Darkness reached up in tendrils from between the seats, clinging to me, crawling up my arms, caressing my face. My breathing grew shallow.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI can feel him near, my Henry,\u201d she said, then handed me a coconut shell and sighed. \u201cIf you see him, give him this.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe subway doors opened into jungle, I followed her out onto what should have been the platform, but she almost instantly vanished in the trees. The shell opened like a book. In its cavity, nested an India rubber ball, milky purple shading to amber, like a heart that\u2019s drained of blood. It gave a larval twitch, squirmed, lengthened and dropped to the ground. I turned to get back on the train, but it had vanished and the platform had turned into a churning swamp of translucent worms that sucked me down. I woke up gasping for breath, face buried in a sweaty pillow.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClimbing out of bed, I stumbled through the thick air to the stairs. It grew cooler, almost bearable as I descended, then turned the corner into a kitchen swathed in shadows.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nDad was at the table, and the man across from him stood. \u201cBrent, this is Lawrence Pelham. He comes highly recommended by the Mawlamyine Board of Trade as the best English speaking tutor in the area.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nRumpled and groggy, I simply grunted as I plodded past them toward the fridge, the door barely open before Dad snapped, \u201cDon\u2019t open it when the power\u2019s off. The food will spoil.\u201d Blah, blah, blah. \u201cThere\u2019s bread in the breadbox and fruit on the counter. And our guest brought us some local cheese.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHearing that word, I turned with a smile. I hadn\u2019t had cheese in weeks.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLeicester\u2013British cheese\u2013made locally since 1820. You see, I raise dairy cows \u2013 on the side. Tutor, rancher, entrepreneur. At any rate, felicitations, young man! Delighted to meet you,\u201d said Lawrence, straightening his curved spine to achieve an impressive height while proffering a handshake that conveyed little of the intended enthusiasm of his words. His long fingered hands were unnaturally slender, arms so long that his bony wrists were entirely visible beyond the cuff of his white suit. He looked like Ebenezer Scrooge on a prison camp regimen \u2013 skin fish-belly white, and a long fringe of yellow feather duster hair surrounding his liver-spotted head. But the thing that struck me most was his voice \u2013 piping and proper, with a strange, slurpy British accent and a hint of a lisp. \u201cAs I understand it, getting you out of the house is our first order of business. And being your local dairy connection, I know a shop just an hour\u2019s drive from here that makes primo Italiano gelato.\u201d He turned back to Dad. \u201cI\u2019ll have him back by seven.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cA trial run then.\u201d Dad nodded. \u201cUntil the weekend.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI didn\u2019t seem to have any say in the decision. Which was okay I guess. Lawrence\u2019s ancient Mercedes had state-of-the-art AC and despite being creepy looking, the old tutor was like a walking collection of interesting quirks. During the drive, he mostly just got me to talk about myself, but I also learned a bit about him, most surprisingly that he had been born and raised in Mawlamyine and spoke no other language than his peculiar and meticulous English.<br \/>\n <\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe shrugged, the moist corners of his lips curling into a smile. \u201cThe street I grew up on was a closed community of old British families. My grandfather was a friend of Rudyard Kipling. My uncle was a counselor when George Orwell was on the local police force.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLike, the writer, Orwell?\u201d My English teacher had loaned me Animal Farm and Orwell\u2019s tale had absorbed me.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cJust like that, yes,\u201d Lawrence grinned broadly. \u201cWe knew him as Captain Eric Blair. He had blue circles tattooed on his knuckles but he never said what they were all about.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou knew him personally?\u201d I asked, trying to calculate how old that would make him. That would have to be like the 1930s!<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cPerhaps not.\u201d Lawrence laughed. \u201cBut my father\u2019s stories were vivid enough I can almost remember being there.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAfter that we talked about books. At least until we saw the giant Buddha reclining on the hillside ahead\u2013at which point the conversation turned to local culture and the eclecticism of the Buddhist way. As we grew closer to the slumbering deity, life sized painted statues of monks carrying alms bowls appeared on the verge of the highway just before we took the turn off for the gelato shop. It was in a tiny cluster of wooden houses, mostly selling different representations of the reclining Buddha, none very well made or expensive. The gelato itself was pretty runny and lumpy with mango, but cold and good just the same.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAfter that, he took me to the monument that housed the Win-sein-Taw-Ya Shrine. It was filled with colorful dioramas of people being tortured and swimming in lava and turning into animals. \u201cThere\u2019s another nearby shrine that\u2019s rather like a carnival \u2013 with neon fountains and bowls moving across the landscape that the children can aim at. Doesn\u2019t seem very dignified for a great religion, really. But who am I to judge?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI admitted to Lawrence that I didn\u2019t understand Christianity or Islam much better than Buddhism and he simply nodded, shrugged and said, \u201cReligion is the opium of the people.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTo which I responded brightly, \u201cErnest Hemingway,\u201d and enjoyed the admiring way he looked at me while people around us jostled and prayed and filled the many fountains with coins.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe said to me, \u201cSuch a relief. Someone of your generation who cares about literary masterworks. We should get along smashingly.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe next day, he assessed my math skills by setting out a bunch of questions that involved my buying video games in Myanmar currency. All of his lessons were tied to real life \u2013 and when I went shopping in Yangon that weekend, I\u2019m sure I saved about $40 buying games. Our attempts to contact Mom were a bit more successful and we talked for hours that weekend, but with that came the bad news that she had several more chemo treatments that would keep her grounded in Canada for months. I gave my new tutor a rave review and she helped convince Dad to keep Lawrence on, at least for the time being.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWe got home early Sunday evening, and I excused myself right after dinner to go upstairs and install the new games on my computer. But as my bedroom door closed behind me, I realized it wasn\u2019t eagerness that compelled me up the stairs. The instant the door closed behind me, it was like someone had opened a spigot in my chest and drained out every ounce of energy. I leaned back against the wall and slid toward the floor, and even before sleep had completely claimed me, the dream started pulling me in.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe woman in green was rushing toward me from the far end of the subway train. Leaning over me, she asked, \u201cDid you find Henry?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI reached into my shopping bag and pulled out a coconut shell like the one she\u2019d given me in the previous dream. Instead of a larva inside, there was a face \u2013 Lawrence\u2019s face \u2013 waxy and distorted. Red rimmed eyes peered out at me from deep within the sockets. The lips wrapped themselves around words, \u201cStill here, Penelope, my love. Only you can see me, know me, release me. And I, in turn, release you. Can you hear me? Come to me?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTell him, yes,\u201d said the woman urgently, but it wasn\u2019t until I saw my reflection in the wardrobe mirror that I realized it was actually me saying it. In true dream fashion, I had become Penelope. I put my hand to my belly, empty of the child it had once contained. Our child. I shook my head, confused as I heard myself saying, \u201cWe will be together again.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy eyes fluttered open, and I sat staring at the reflection of a fifteen year old boy, sitting on the floor, clinging to a shopping bag. After a brief check to reassure myself it contained no coconut shells, I hung the bag from my chair. Any urge to check out the new games had long since dissipated, so I lay on the bed, listening to the pounding of my heart, until I finally drifted back to sleep. As far as I can remember, it was a totally normal sleep.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOn Monday, with the power down again, we went to Lawrence\u2019s house. Being wood frame, it had not survived the ravages of time and typhoon as tidily as Twelve Oaks. The teak interior had remained intact, but it had lost its gleam, fading almost to grey and creaking like a tall ship whenever you walked down a hallway or went up the stairs.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAfter retrieving some books from his library, we stopped off at a massive wooden wardrobe in the hall, where Lawrence seemed to have a sort of epiphany and threw open the doors with the flair of a game show presenter. The interior was filled with the crisp white suits that Lawrence always wore, each in its own plastic dry-cleaning bag. \u201cThey were purchased for the house staff \u2013 when we still had a staff. When I still had a family for that matter. Extremely well-tailored. The Burmen are slighter, so there are almost certainly smaller sizes that would fit you if you\u2019re interested.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nImagining myself in one of these suits, I had to put my hand over my mouth to hide my smile. I smiled so seldom back then that the braces felt weird against my lips and I was aware of them for the first time in a long time. \u201cI\u2019m good, Lawrence. But thanks.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAll right then,\u201d he declared throwing his hands in the air. \u201cYou don\u2019t want a free suit. No accounting for modern tastes.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA few hours later, he said out of the blue, \u201cDo I understand that your pater is trying to restore Twelve Oaks as a working plantation? If so, I have something he might be interested in. It\u2019s called a steam mangle. They\u2019re also called wringers. This one compresses slabs of rubber between rollers. And it\u2019s steam powered. Perhaps even predating the dawn of the 20th century. I have an idea of how much it would sell for through Sotheby\u2019s, so I shan\u2019t let it go for a song. But I\u2019m sure we can work something out, maybe even some manner of rental arrangement. Would you like to see it?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI shrugged. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t exactly confide in me, but he needs this sort of thing for the restoration. So he\u2019d probably be interested.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI have a perfectly adequate hand mangle,\u201d he explained, \u201cso I don\u2019t need this monstrosity. Come down for a look-see.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI trailed him down the basement stairs into the darkness. When he flipped a bank of switches at the bottom of the stairs, I expected a glare like a football stadium, but the few shaded lamps that were still working merely struggled to make certain parts of the room a bit less dark than others. A thick sliver of light sliced into the room from between the big barn doors that opened into the yard.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLawrence was delivering an enthusiastic sales pitch. \u201cYou can let him know what excellent shape it\u2019s in. I bought some fresh thick-slab from a local gatherer and ran a few sheets through.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAs Lawrence stepped into the darkness to retrieve a sheet of rubber from the wire where it hung, I remembered the dream and asked, \u201cDo you know anyone named Henry or Penelope?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLawrence stiffened as he reached up to take a slab off the drying line, then said, \u201cSo someone has told you the story? Or did you always know?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat story?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAbout the ghost at Twelve Oaks. Penelope MacGregor. Nothing like a good ghost story to attract tourists of a certain type? Any type, really.\u201d He shook his head. \u201cPoor Penelope. Always looking, looking, looking for her Henry. More sad than tragic, I suppose. Very romantic.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI didn\u2019t know there was a story,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019ve just been having dreams about her.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe raised a brow. \u201cYou must have heard the story, even unconsciously. To remember the names like that.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNope,\u201d I shook my head. \u201cIt\u2019s all in the dream. She\u2019s always asking about Henry. Sure that I\u2019ve seen him. Giving me messages and gifts to pass along.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nEven though he stood just a few steps away, Lawrence\u2019s face seemed as featureless as the rectangular slabs hanging from the racks like meat in an abattoir. \u201cWhat kind of gifts?\u201d he asked. \u201cPhysical objects? Books or letters?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI told him about the coconut shells in the dream, the larva and the face. \u201cBut nothing real. In the dream, you were Henry, only younger.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAt least that\u2019s how you remember it. Dreams are curious that way. Always changing.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThe face spoke to me, but I don\u2019t remember what it said.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou don\u2019t seem as spooked about the prospect of a ghost as one might expect.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThey\u2019re just dreams,\u201d I shrugged. \u201cIf I saw an actual ghost, I\u2019d probably be more freaked out. But it might be pretty cool.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLawrence stepped out into the light, carrying a sheet of rubber the size of a bathmat. \u201cLet\u2019s take this sample to show your da how well the machine works.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI took the rubber from him, surprised at its weight, given that it wasn\u2019t much thicker than a cotton blanket. I draped it over my arm, but as I followed Lawrence back upstairs, I felt overwhelmed with curiosity about what would happen if I draped the sheet of rubber over my head \u2013 wondering if it would conform to my features.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAs I came out of the doorway at the top of the stairs, I was shocked by Lawrence\u2019s outburst as he shouted, \u201cTake it off.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAs I spun it to look out through the gap, Lawrence grabbed the edge of the sheet and angrily pulled it off, nearly ripping my head off with it. The force slammed me into the wall and I stood there rubbing my shoulder.<br \/>\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 said Lawrence immediately, \u201cAbout the unintentional roughhousing. I didn\u2019t mean to do that. Rubber attracts mold spores. No telling what kind of jungle fever it may give you.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI grimaced at his silhouette in the light funneling in from the far end of the narrow hall.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAfter a while, he said, quietly, \u201cI do apologize. I did ask you to remove it. Are you\u2026 quite alright?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI glared at him \u2013 surprised how strong he was for an old man. \u201cMaybe you should take me home. We could do the math lesson there.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThere\u2019s not enough light at your house. Perhaps when the power comes back on.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s bright in my room.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLawrence smiled and said, \u201cWise tutors avoid going into their students\u2019 bedrooms. Why don\u2019t we just go into town? The Martaban Museum is displaying some newly acquired Mon relics. We can have curry for lunch at the Khit Thit and I might even buy you a beer as long as you don\u2019t tell your dear da.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAs he spoke, the sheet of rubber dangled from his forearm like a big awkward wing. Within its flaps and drapes and jiggles, I saw the contours of a face looking out at me from the pliant surface\u2013not my face, but Penelope\u2019s.<br \/>\n <\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt vanished into the folds as Lawrence turned away from me. I followed him out the front door and as he locked it behind me, I said, \u201cOn the way into town you can tell me the story.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe gave me a blank, wordless look, so I went on. \u201cYou can\u2019t just drop the bomb that there\u2019s a ghost in my house and then not tell me the story.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI suppose I did open that can of worms.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAs we pulled the Mercedes out onto the highway, Lawrence said, \u201cI\u2019d have told you earlier, but didn\u2019t want to frighten you unnecessarily.  The locals call them preta, which translates to hungry ghost. Spirits that desire things they can never have. Twelve Oaks has its very own preta. Simply put, Penelope MacGregor died under mysterious circumstances after receiving news of the demise of her betrothed, my great-uncle, Major Henry Pelham. And she\u2019s been waiting for him ever since.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s the whole story? I mean, Henry\u2019s your uncle. Have you done any ghost-hunting? Has she ever come looking for him at your estate?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhy would she do that?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI shrugged, \u201cmaybe her ghost tracked down his ghost.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLawrence shook his head. \u201cHenry is long gone.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow can we be sure?\u201d I said. \u201cThere has to be more you can tell me.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI know more details, background sort of thing. Major Henry Pelham was appointed to head up the front line garrison in Mandalay and tasked with quelling the latest round of unrest\u2013both real and rumored \u2013 within the Raj. Family legend has it that my namesake, Lawrence Pelham, went out of his way to look in on and look after his elder brother\u2019s fianc\u00e9e while Henry was away. The young Lawrence adored her, her kindness, her beauty, even her faithfulness to his brother and knew there was nothing he could do to win her favor or her romantic interest.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe made it abundantly clear that she could hardly wait until Henry either returned from his post or called her to Rangoon to live with him. Then Henry died on the front. Suffocated in a burning barrack after an attack by insurgents. But even after he died\u2013after his funeral\u2013Penelope kept waiting for him and him alone, and is waiting still they say. She was delusional, hysterical, eventually institutionalized.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIs it possible that Henry wasn\u2019t really dead?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThe army couldn\u2019t ship his body back for burial, but I\u2019ve seen the casting that they made\u2013a death-mask that\u2019s entombed in his crypt.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIf it was entombed, how did you see it?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAfter a long silence, he said, \u201cThe crypt was damaged in a storm. It\u2019s been resealed.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDid you know that he sent her letters, after he had supposedly died,\u201d I asked.<br \/>\n <\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLawrence shook his head. \u201cDo you have any of these actual letters, or did you just learn about them in a dream?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI shrugged, unable to explain how I knew about the letters in the first place. But I remembered their neat script, their luminous words, <em>Even in death, you consume me. How can I pass unto that cold land without us ever consummating our bond that made each day on Earth worth living? At the mercy of the seraphims who believe in love above all else, I have been given human form in which to come to you. <\/em><br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cEven in death, you consume me,\u201d I said. \u201cThat\u2019s how the first one began. He sent them after he died.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAhhh, ghost letters!  There\u2019s a new theory.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cShe couldn\u2019t tell anyone,\u201d I explained. \u201cThe letter said that if their union became known to any mortal soul, it would become no more than a memory. The letter bid her to burn his letters so that he could climb the ladder of ash to her room.\u201d<br \/>\n <\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLawrence\u2019s voice croaked a bit as he said, \u201cI\u2019m not sure it\u2019s safe for you to stay in that room. What if she draws you into her dementia?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhere else am I going to stay?\u201d I put to him, realizing as I did so that the prospect of communicating with the ghost excited more than terrified me.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe next day, my dad sent a truck and three men to pick up the mangler. While everyone else was outside, hoisting the machine onto the truck, I explored the cellar. In an unlit corner, I found a cabinet that was nowhere near as dusty as everything around it. As I reached out, I was startled by a noise a hissing and slithering through the darkness. The ground seemed to squirm at my feet and I jumped back.<br \/>\n <\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s Henry,\u201d the snakes hissed and slithered. \u201cHe\u2019ssss here. Henry? Henry? Henry? Sssssssssssssssso near.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA hand clamped over my shoulder and I just about jumped out of my skin as Lawrence said, \u201cSo we\u2019re all done here.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDo you have snakes down here?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe laughed. \u201cThere are probably snakes living under most of the houses in Burma. Did you see one?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt spoke to me,\u201d I almost told him, but instead I said nothing.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThat night on the dream train, Penelope sat down beside me.<br \/>\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 I truly believed Henry would come back to me until the night he came knocking at my door,\u201d Penelope whispered. Through her eyes, I saw his face perched upon the pillow. With her fingertips, I traced the curve of his jaw. Although all the features were Lawrence\u2019s features, this was not him. It was Henry. Of course it was Henry, who had declared his immortal love, who had broached the greatest chasm to be with her for one beautiful night. It was Henry who had entered her and spilled his angelic seed inside her\u2013completing their bond. It was Henry\u2013right up until that awful moment when it wasn\u2019t.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe handed me a book instead of a coconut shell. I awakened, certain I had seen a copy of that book, Pride and Prejudice, somewhere in the house. I got out of bed and started searching through the bookshelves, finding it in the living room. When I opened it, two envelopes, along with a yellowed, scallop-edged photograph slid out from behind the vellum frontispiece. It was a picture of a man in uniform \u2013 of Lawrence to be precise. On the back was inscribed, \u201cCounting the heartbeats until you are back in my arms. All my love, Henry.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLook in his cellar,\u201d an urgent whisper awakened me from the dream. The first thing I saw upon opening my eyes was Penelope\u2019s face, inches from my own \u2013 locking her gaze with me, as she repeated, \u201cthe cellar.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe next morning. Lawrence drove up and honked for me rather than coming in as usual.<br \/>\n <\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDid you dream of Penelope again last night?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cShe gave me something to show you.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnother coconut shell?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSomething real this time. She told me where to find it.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI refused to show it to him until we sat down in his living room. He read the inscription on the back then flipped it over and stared into his own eyes. \u201cThe resemblance is uncanny, I\u2019ll give you that. He shrugged, smirked. \u201cGenetics I suppose.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI shook my head. \u201cShe told me to look in your basement.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLook for what?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHell if I know.\u201d I said, \u201cBut do you mind if we go down and look. Our personal ghost adventure awaits, right down these stairs.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI grasped the knob, opened the door and stepped down. The surfeit of creaking behind me made me turn my head in time to see Lawrence coming up behind me, swinging a fireplace poker down toward my head, but I stepped aside and his downward arc carried him off balance and he tumbled past me down the stairs.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAt the bottom of the stairs, I flicked on the bank of feeble lights to find Lawrence sprawled, face down on the concrete floor. One leg had snapped and was bent sideways. In the fall, he had dropped something that was now lying just beyond his outstretched fingertips \u2013 looking like the pupae from my dream. I nudged it with my shoe, and it unfolded as it rolled over.<br \/>\n <\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt was Lawrence\u2019s face, or rather, a rubber mask of his face \u2013 distorted and hollow eyed. I picked it up and stared into the empty eye sockets. Behind me, the man moaned and lifted his head. What was left of the features on his skull stood out like inflamed scabs on stretched white parchment. The creature gestured toward the mask, imploring me to give it back, which made me grip it tighter.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAs I tried to step around him to get to the stairs, a strong hand clamped around my ankle. I didn\u2019t fall, but as I struggled to free myself, he grabbed the mask, tearing it from my grip so violently that I was left clinging to a rubber ear and part of a jaw.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe toppled me onto my back. As he pulled what was left of the mask tightly over his skull, I could see his body begin to instantly repair itself, the broken leg bending and straightening back into shape as he climbed to his feet and took a clumsy step toward me.<br \/>\n <\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI watched his rubber lips move, his eyes blink, almost normal again. \u201cYou found my masks, didn\u2019t you? Yesterday? You better not have done anything to them or I\u2019ll make a death-mask of you.\u201d Blood poured down his neck from the missing ear and I glanced down at the bloody bit of cartilage in my hand.<br \/>\n <\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe backed me to the corner where I had heard \u201cthe snake.\u201d On the upper shelf was a plaster mask \u2013 the deathmask, I assumed. On the bottom shelf were rubber castings, a dozen masks at least \u2013 all with Henry\u2019s features.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe pulled off the one he was wearing and threw it to the floor with a bloody splat. While he was replacing it with a fresh mask, smoothing it into place, I took advantage of the distraction, running past him, unbolting the swinging door and bursting out. As I glanced over my shoulder, it was not the elderly tutor my father had hired who I saw standing there, but rather the young colonial soldier whose face had supplied the mould. Lawrence had somehow become 40 years younger.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI ran through the rubber grove, screaming for help from anyone who might be out there, but seeing no one, no gatherers, no construction workers, or cowherds. As I paused, disorientated, the creature that was Lawrence caught up to me, hauling me down and straddling me. But coming up through the well of panic inside me, I felt a presence, and like in the dreams where I became Penelope, she stepped into my head.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI don\u2019t know what Lawrence saw when I spoke in her voice, \u201cHenry, you\u2019re back.\u201d<br \/>\n <\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe stared back down and said, \u201cYou can\u2019t possibly still be waiting?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd why wouldn\u2019t I be?\u201d said Penelope. \u201cYou have always been everything to me.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe seemed paralyzed with shock and disbelief. Frozen enough at least that I was able to squirm out of his grasp and buck him off me. He jumped to his feet, but instead of attacking me again, he ran back into the house, slamming the basement door behind him. A moment later, I saw motion though an upstairs window, in the trophy room near Henry\u2019s crypt. Penelope imagined him loading an antique rifle and since she was inside of me, I shared that supposition. I stood swaying in the hot morning sun, trying to convince myself to turn and flee, but she clung to me, refusing to let go.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019ve finally found him,\u201d she told me. \u201cI need you now.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy eyes fluttered shut and I struggled to escape the waking dream, but she remained in front of me. \u201cIt\u2019s not really Henry.\u201d I said. \u201cHe\u2019s Lawrence, he was\u2026.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI know.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHer stark words hung in the air. \u201cI know what he really is. There\u2019s one honest thing he told me. If a mortal learns the truth it comes undone. Now that you know about him, he will come for you. If you run away, there\u2019s no telling what he would do to silence you. He\u2019d kill your father, I\u2019m sure. But right now, we have the upper hand. We can destroy him.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut what is it I know?\u201d I said to the ghost. \u201cI\u2019m so confused.\u201d<br \/>\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<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMy shock and terror was finally beginning to ebb, as Penelope\u2019s outrage and hunger for vengeance filled me. I ducked down into a crouch and began running through the grove, not towards Twelve Oaks, but rather, circling back toward Lawrence\u2019s house. Of course all the doors were locked. I was leaning back against the basement wall wondering how to proceed, when the door swung open. Thinking that he\u2019d caught us and half-expecting a bullet through the chest, I staggered back, but the figure in the doorway cocked a sly brow at me as she turned to smoke. As I felt her flow back into me, I thought (or at least felt her thinking), there are some advantages to being a ghost.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI could hear Lawrence stomping and shuffling across the floor above me, walking as though he hadn\u2019t just broken his leg. My breath caught in my throat as he moved back toward the stairs. The cabinet door was open and the shelves were empty. There on the floor, looking up at me, was the mask that Lawrence had discarded \u2013 the torn face that I had gotten to know as Lawrence.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI picked it up.<br \/>\n <\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cPut it on,\u201d said Penelope\u2019s voice in my head.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe held it out to me, a layer of raw, bleeding flesh dimming its translucence.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI felt like puking on the floor or shouting what the hell do you want from me lady? Or just curling into a ball. But I knew what she wanted, and required me to turn the mask over, and lower my face into the bloody mess as though it was a hot towel.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHenry\u2019s final memories flooded into me, of being dragged by his wrists out of a fire that was enveloping the barracks at the camp where he was stationed. He had regained consciousness, opening his bleary eyes to find himself lying in a box. The smell of plaster was overwhelming, the last face he saw before the viscous fluid flowed over his forehead filling his eyes was his younger brother\u2019s long gaunt face. Henry opened his mouth to scream and the substance filled him, choked him, drowned him\u2013trapping his soul in that living deathmask.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nInside me, Penelope writhed, her hunger for the truth undermined by its bitterness. In the same way that a part of Henry\u2019s soul had been captured in the deathmask and transferred to the rubber copies, the thoughts and recollections now racing through my mind were from Lawrence\u2019s perspective \u2013 far fresher, more fervid than Henry\u2019s comparatively petrified memories. The whole story was laid out before her now, a banquet of poisons.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThrough my senses, she experienced Lawrence\u2019s nightly vigil while he watched, in a rapture of adoration and devotion, as Penelope prayed and got ready for bed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWe accompanied Lawrence on his journey to the shrine of the demon, Kama-Mara, in a huge hollow baobab bole in the jungle, vividly recalling the moment he pushed aside a great curtain of moss, to be enveloped in a haze of earthy incense that reeked like dung and mud and fungus. Unlike Buddha, who never greets you personally at the door, Kama-Mara was waiting cross legged in his thorny robes and grateful for their visit. When he took Lawrence\u2019s hands in his, the young man staggered back and the demon laughed companionably. \u201cYou must let me feel your need. The better I understand it, the better I can help with your problem. Show me the depth of your desire.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLawrence had wanted his brother\u2019s life. He had wanted Penelope.  And so, the deal was struck, the steps were taken: the kidnapping from the battlefield, the making of the mold while Henry\u2019s lungs filled with plaster, and the letter to Penelope in a very good approximation of his dead brother\u2019s hand, (for Lawrence had practiced many years) declaring that death had not freed him from her love, the ink running where his tears spilled onto the page.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nPutting his plan into action had been a gradual thing. There had been many letters, growing bolder each time. Explaining how difficult it was to cross between the realms, convincing her that she was pulling him inexorably into the mortal world by following his instructions \u2013 going out onto her balcony, touching herself in certain ways so he could watch. Henry\u2019s dress uniform had hung large on him the first time he stepped out into the faint light that permeated the gardens of the estate, making sure she glimpsed him before stepping back into the shadows.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThen finally putting on the mask, on the night of the winter dance at the Anglican Church when he had convinced her to stay home alone. The love and longing in her eyes, the most powerful thing Lawrence had ever felt. As they kissed, all his worries were washed away in a tide of fulfillment and desire. She gave herself to him again and again and again, as they both forgot that the rest of the world existed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nUntil a knock came at her bedroom door.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe heard noises. Are you alright my dear?\u201d came her father\u2019s voice.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLawrence whispered to her, \u201cIf they see me, then I will never be able to come back.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019ll keep them away, my love.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAs he hid, he began to sweat and the mask no longer adhered to his skin. He tried desperately to put the disguise back on. When it didn\u2019t work, he dressed quickly.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat is going on in here?\u201d her father demanded, bursting into the room. The mask slipped from Lawrence\u2019s fingers, and with it, all pretense.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLawrence?\u201d came the father\u2019s voice. \u201cWhat are you doing here?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nPenelope gazed at him with widening eyes as he fastened his belt. \u201cWhy are you wearing his clothes? Where is Henry?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cListen here young man! What are you doing in my daughter\u2019s room?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWordlessly, Lawrence fled, leaving behind a crowd of open-mouthed onlookers and a wailing and very confused and grief-stricken young woman.<br \/>\n <\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIn the aftermath, she denied ever letting Lawrence into her bedroom and refused to believe that Henry was dead. She had seen him, made love with him\u2026and as it turned out, was carrying his child. The family confined her to the house, ashamed of both her pregnancy and her growing madness. And Lawrence, having once tasted her, was both sated and banned from Twelve Oaks.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOne moment I knew none of this, the next the memories were part of me. I even shared in the feeling of relief he\u2019d felt upon hearing the news that Penelope had hanged herself following her return from the asylum.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHer screams of anguish and fury erupted from inside me. Her treasured memories of her final tryst with the man she loved now fully exposed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nI opened my eyes to see Lawrence coming down the stairs, holding an elephant gun he had shown off to me earlier in the week.<br \/>\n <\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that on your face?\u201d Lawrence demanded. \u201cThat\u2019s not yours. That\u2019s mine! Take it off!\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe pulled the trigger\u2013and I\u2019m not at all sure what followed.<br \/>\n <\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere were curtains of rubber between us, which the bullets couldn\u2019t seem to penetrate. They hit the barriers, unearthly and inviolable, and simply dropped out of the air, mingling with the shell casings on the floor.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAs Lawrence stared stupidly at the empty gun, his face grew longer, mouth gaping stupidly, eye-sockets emptying of all sensibility as the final lies fell away.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI know everything about you now,\u201d I said. \u201cAnd so does Penelope.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAs her name escaped my lips, her spirit seemed to billow out from my chest \u2013 her long arms reaching, her cold hands grasping his ankles as she pulled him back down the stairs, his enfeebled hands clawing, fingers snapping off, fingertips crumbling to dust. It screamed as she reached into him and tore out his life-force like gutting a fish.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNow knowing where Lawrence had put the masks, I ran up the stairs, opened the vault beneath the Henry\u2019s monument and pulled them out. When I smashed the plaster deathmask onto the flagstones, I felt Henry\u2019s spirit, pouring from the rents, rising up between the pieces. Penelope was there to gather them, And I left the two of them there, spirits swirling as I went back down to the basement to prepare an acid bath for the rubber faces\u2013which were now no more than faces, with Henry\u2019s spirit having escaped at last.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nYou might think I\u2019d have been covered in his blood, but Lawrence had apparently lived a bloodless life. There was nothing left of him beyond the ash smeared white suit crumpled on the floor. The police investigation was over in a heartbeat. For all of his unnatural years, it seems that Lawrence did not make much of an impression upon the world.<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"rather\"><\/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>Wouldn&#8217;t You Rather<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy Serena Johe<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFor most of the year, Diner 66 is frequented almost entirely by regulars. It\u2019s in the early fall that the reporter first shows up, the last week of September, just as the leaves begin to turn and the early-bird tourists infiltrate the restaurant on their way north. That\u2019s probably why no one pays him any mind. He seems to float in on the breeze with the others. The out-of-towners don\u2019t know the regulars from the tourists, and the regulars merely assumed he\u2019d leave with the rest of the flock, but he continues to frequent their establishment into late October.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe\u2019s impeccably dressed in his tan trench coat and black leather gloves, the fedora atop his head and the spiral notepad in hand like a journalist from a black-and-white movie of days past. The fifties themed diner seems to swallow him up that way. His outdated dress and odd mannerisms make the locals feel more out of place than he seems to be, despite his anomalous presence.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAfter most of the through traffic has made its way north and back south again, Clay, like the rest of the locals who frequent Diner 66, can\u2019t help but take notice of him. He spends long hours hopping from table to table, countertop stool to window seat. He always spends money\u2013powdered donuts and vanilla cappuccinos, or bear claws and hot chocolate\u2013and he tips well. Well enough, anyway, for the staff to turn a blind eye to his constantly pestering the customers, though they have a tendency to play along with his often absurd interview questions regardless.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt\u2019s not that Clay has any particular interest in eavesdropping, but it\u2019s hard not to pick up the man\u2019s smooth, unfamiliar voice, like the low hum of a cello cutting through the clanking dishes and quiet laughter of the other patrons\u2019 conversations. Even his stride sets him apart. His movements are fluid and conducted with unusual gaiety as he slides into the burgundy faux-leather booth near the door. There\u2019s something about it that bugs Clay. The man always seems like he\u2019s half-a-second from erupting into emasculating giggles.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe\u2019ll start with an easy one, shall we?\u201d The reporter asks the woman across from him with a wide smile, pen poised over his notepad. \u201cWould you rather take a trip to the beach, or go skiing?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh, the beach, definitely,\u201d Cindy Hoffman replies instantly, smoothing her hair back in a way that reminds Clay of a preening bird. \u201cI hate being stuck in the cold all winter.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe hums sympathetically, his attention undivided as he scribbles detailed notes. When he seems satisfied with the transcription, he turns to Cindy\u2019s husband, his eyes briefly flitting to the uneaten donut on his plate.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI suppose a more difficult question is in order, then. If you don\u2019t mind, sir?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNot at all.\u201d Carl sounds just as pleased to be considered important enough for the article.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cExcellent! Well, then, let\u2019s see here\u2026 would you rather save a loved one\u2019s life from cancer, or win the lottery?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCarl catches Cindy\u2019s look, but he still asks, \u201cWhich loved one?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI couldn\u2019t say.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh, no contest, then.\u201d Carl forcefully slaps a meaty palm down on the table, rattling the silverware. \u201cThe first one.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cInteresting. Yes, good choice, I should think\u2026\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClay, watching discreetly from the breakfast bar, can\u2019t help but roll his eyes. Everyone is completely infatuated with the man. It\u2019s part of the dilemma of living in a small town like this one\u2013everyone\u2019s starved for attention. There\u2019s never been anything or anyone in North Park worth making the papers until he showed up. Now, everyone seems to be of the utmost interest and all too happy to oblige this stranger\u2019s odd solicitations, so much so that his interviewees have yet to ask him what it is, exactly, he\u2019s writing about. Maybe they\u2019re afraid the story won\u2019t be as grand and emotionally compelling as they hoped. Clay thinks they\u2019d probably be right.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen Carl and Cindy stand to leave after pleasantries and handshakes are exchanged, the reporter remains behind, his wrist seizing over the paper below like an inspired artist. Then he puts the pen down on the table, drawing himself up with a deep inhalation. His eyes once again return to the donut left on Carl\u2019s plate. He seems to be considering it until he notices Cindy\u2019s lipstick is smudged on the edge of her Coke glass. The reporter picks it up and holds it to the light as if expecting to find flakes of gold in her cheap make-up. Maybe he does. The pen is back in his grasping fingers in an instant.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat the hell\u2019s this guy think he is now? A scientist?\u201d Clay mutters, turning back to his coffee. The clatter of the saucer when he sets the cup down belies his frustration.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrom his right, Paige laughs under her breath. \u201cWhat\u2019s so wrong with that? He\u2019s just doing his job.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat kind of reporter asks such ridiculous questions?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe shrugs. \u201cMaybe it\u2019s an editorial.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nEditorial, Clay repeats the word in his head. Editorial my ass, he thinks. What could possibly be so important about whether Collin wants a dog or a cat, or if Ms. McGruder would rather win a new car than the Pulitzer Prize? What\u2019s so important about that? He scowls at the yellow stripes of the countertop. That kind of smart-ass questioning is just how people like that reporter, people that think they\u2019re smarter than everyone else, get their kicks.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAre you sure you\u2019re not just jealous?\u201d Paige tries not to smile at the grumpy look on his face. \u201cIf you want to do an interview, you could just go ask him, you know.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClay gives her an impatient sidelong glance. \u201cWhy the hell would I want to do that?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSounds like fun to me.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah, I bet it does.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh, sweet love of mine,\u201d Paige sighs theatrically, grabbing the last half of her bagel and dropping a few bills beside her plate. \u201cI love it when you insult me. See you after work?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClay gives her an exasperated look, but she still wins a small smile from him, at least.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah. After work,\u201d he agrees, giving her a chaste kiss. He watches her exit, the little silver bell atop the door announcing her departure, and then returns his attention to the reporter.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe\u2019s eating the donut. The syrupy glaze clings to the fingers of his leather gloves, and when the pastry is gone, he looks down at his hand and blinks confusedly at it, as if he genuinely hadn\u2019t expected the sugar to stick to him. Then he dunks his sticky fingers into Carl\u2019s water glass and wipes it on his coat.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThat\u2019s it, Clay thinks, getting up from his seat. He snatches his keys and shoves his EpiPen into his pocket with his wallet. There must be something wrong with this guy, what with his weird mannerisms and strange questions, and if that\u2019s the case, it\u2019s the townspeople\u2019s responsibility to investigate. This stranger\u2019s been here for almost a month and not a single person can even say where he lives. For all he knows, this man might be dangerous.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClay slides into the booth, setting his coffee cup on the table to stick out his hand.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cClay.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cJack,\u201d the man smiles widely. His damp fingers are unpleasantly cold.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere\u2019s an extended silence as Clay tries to figure out an angle. Jack, meanwhile, only continues to smile in that gleeful way, like a man about to leave on a long vacation. Eventually, his gaze once again drifts down to the tabletop, jumping from left over morsel to left over morsel, presumably in search of something to eat. The grin never leaves his face, though. It\u2019s only his eyes that move.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat are you writing about?\u201d Clay asks at last, if only to get the reporter to stop looking a cat in a field of mice.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut Jack just flaps a hand at him. \u201cOh, you know. This and that.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou ask awfully strange questions, you know.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere\u2019s a piece of pancake on Cindy\u2019s plate, sodden with syrup. Jack eyes it for only a moment before snatching it up.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI love sweets,\u201d he explains at the other man\u2019s incredulous look. \u201cCan\u2019t resist them. What about you, Clay? Do you like dessert?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI didn\u2019t sit here to talk about dessert.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJack\u2019s smile grows. \u201cAn interview, then?\u201d<br \/>\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 one of your ludicrous interviews either.\u201d Clay rolls his tongue behind his teeth agitatedly. \u201cI want to know what you\u2019re doing here. In my town.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIs that so\u2026?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAt last, the expression on Jack\u2019s face changes into something other than blithe indifference. He leans forward with his elbows on the table, chin resting in his hands. His head is cocked slightly in a way that reminds Clay of a young lady enamored with her date, and he can\u2019t help but find it unnerving. Jack doesn\u2019t seem to notice, however; he\u2019s studying Clay\u2019s face. His eyes are glittering with suppressed humor. The smile just barely tugging up the corners of his mouth is one a mother might give a child whose put all his clothes on backwards.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell, Clay,\u201d Jack breaks the silence, snapping back into his normal posture so abruptly, like his joints are spring loaded, that Clay jumps. His knees hit the underside of the table and rattle the dishes. \u201cI must be honest with you. I think you already know the answer to your own inquiry.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe waits, but Jack apparently needs prompting. \u201cWhich is?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m here to ask questions.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah,\u201d Clay draws out the word. \u201cBut what for?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnswers.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnswers to what?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhy, questions, of course!\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut&#8230;\u201d he stops himself. The look on Jack\u2019s face is infuriatingly smug. Clay stands stiffly, leaving his unfinished coffee settled between plates, his jaw flexed in irritation. \u201cScrew you, buddy.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe drops the other half of the check over Paige\u2019s bills and leaves without another word. Jack\u2019s eyes are on him the whole way out, but he doesn\u2019t turn to look.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWho has time for that kind of nonsense?<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClay avoids the diner for two weeks. The reporter makes him distinctly uncomfortable in a way that he can\u2019t quite describe. No man smiles that much, he thinks resolutely, unless he\u2019s got that much to smile about, and whatever it is that\u2019s got Jack so happy, Clay doesn\u2019t want any part of it. Especially not after being caught in one of his idiotic games.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt\u2019s baffling to him that there are so many others who continue to willingly subject themselves to Jack\u2019s laughable line of questioning, though, but people do. He catches snippets of conversations throughout town and at work, and despite his desertion of the diner, Paige continues to drink coffee there while she writes. When they find each other after work, she informs him that Jack is still there doing much the same thing.<br \/>\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 why you\u2019re being such a baby about this,\u201d she teases him over dinner, but Clay stubbornly refuses to go back.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI just don\u2019t like the guy. There\u2019s something off about him.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell, yeah,\u201d Paige agrees, \u201cbut he\u2019s not going to jump across the diner and kill you or anything. I just don\u2019t see what the problem is.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt\u2019s a matter of principle, really. There\u2019s just something wrong about a man wandering into town and bugging the locals, asking questions for his own gain and offering nothing in return. It doesn\u2019t seem fair. Besides, even if Jack won\u2019t spill the beans, Clay is more than certain that whatever he\u2019s writing about is as empty-headed as the man doing the writing, so the fact that all these people are lining up to be a part of it is just plain disturbing. Surely Jack will leave soon anyway.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAt the end of the second week, however, something else begins to bother him. He\u2019d listened to Jack\u2019s inane questions for nearly three weeks before confronting him. Of course he\u2019d remember a few conversations. So, it\u2019s strange, he thinks, when Collin gets a cat, but perhaps Jack\u2019s question put the idea in his head. That wouldn\u2019t explain Ms. McGruder\u2019s winning a car in a magazine sweepstakes, though, or Cindy\u2019s free airline tickets to Florida, or Carl\u2019s mother\u2019s cancer scare that turned out to be a benign lump.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere are others, too. His neighbor loses his great grandfather\u2019s lighter but finds a thousand dollars sewn into his mattress while searching for it. Paige\u2019s best friend drops twenty pounds in ten days. Oddities begin to pile up, and perhaps it\u2019s because Clay spent so long eavesdropping on the interviews that he\u2019s the only one that puts it together. Now, if only he could figure out what it is, exactly, that he\u2019s put together.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOn Monday morning, Clay returns to the diner. He\u2019s not entirely sure what he\u2019s come here to ask, let alone how he\u2019s going to ask it, but the point is that there\u2019s something that needs to be asked and somebody has to do the asking. Besides, he figures, Jack loves questions. Maybe he\u2019ll like answering them too.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe finds Jack engaged in conversation at the back of the diner. The woman across from him is answering a question, something about jail or a coma. There\u2019s a plate full of powdered raspberry donuts in front of him that he\u2019s casually demolishing at a speed normally reserved for competitive eating. One of the donuts is leaking jelly, and this one, he picks up, squeezing it slightly and watching the bright red, sugary substance gather atop it like a kid watching Santa come down the chimney. He\u2019s so intensely focused on the food that he evidently forgets the woman across the table until she remarks on the odd behavior.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI love sweets,\u201d Jack says with that broad smile. \u201cCan\u2019t resist them. What about you, Becca? Do you like dessert?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClay waits for them to finish up the interview. In the meantime, he pays for half-a-dozen strawberry croissants and two cups of hot chocolate, carefully balancing the platter of pastries on his wrist as he approaches the booth once Becca makes her way out. He slides the plate over the previous, now empty, one.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe\u2019s obviously made the right choice. Jack wiggles his fingers delightedly.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat a pleasant surprise!\u201d He announces, clearly giddy, and immediately begins tearing into the first pastry. \u201cClay, to what do I owe the pleasure?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe tries to make himself feel as sure as he sounds. \u201cI want to know how you\u2019re doing this.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDoing what?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClay inhales deeply. His fingers drum pensively against the table.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLook,\u201d he says with the exhale, \u201cI can\u2019t help but notice that these questions of yours\u2013that the answers matter.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell, of course they matter,\u201d Jack says patiently. \u201cWhy would I ask them if they didn\u2019t?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut I don\u2019t understand.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNeither do I. That\u2019s why I\u2019m the one asking the questions.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut, you,\u201d Clay rubs his hands over his face, \u201chow is it that when you ask someone something, the way they answer the question actually happens?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou mean that their choice results in its own fruition.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes,\u201d Clay affirms, perhaps a bit exasperatedly.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh. Oh, I see.\u201d The bell signaling an order is ready chimes loudly in the emptying diner. Jack, momentarily distracted, pauses with his mouth open. When he sees the plate of roast beef up on the metal counter separating the kitchen, he turns back to Clay, his usual smile in place. \u201cYes. That\u2019s me.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey spend a moment in contemplative silence. Jack\u2019s expression remains frozen in place as his hand begins to slide toward another pastry, as if he doesn\u2019t realize it\u2019s happening. The inappropriateness of it jars Clay back into the situation.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen he speaks, it\u2019s clear his sensibilities have been offended.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s impossible.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMaybe for you.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo,\u201d Clay says firmly. \u201cNo one can do that.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJack tuts disapprovingly. \u201cIt sounds like you\u2019ve made a lot of assumptions.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s impossible,\u201d he repeats, getting annoyed, but Jack merely tips his head toward the front of the diner. Clay hesitantly peeks around the booth, neck craned to see out the glass door and catch a glimpse of the sudden commotion out front.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBecca\u2019s hands are cuffed behind her back. When Clay numbly slides back into his seat, he finds Jack looking quite pleased with himself.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOkay,\u201d Clay says shakily. \u201cOkay. Okay.\u201d And then, after a moment more, \u201cWhat the hell are you?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis earlier hopes are apparently for naught. Jack does not like to answer questions except with more questions.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWould you rather know that,\u201d he begins while Clay\u2019s heart sinks into his stomach with dread, \u201cor be able to choose the means of your own death?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe word \u201cdeath\u201d coming out of this thing&#8217;s powdered sugar covered mouth is utterly disquieting. Everything about Jack, in fact, is disquieting. His brown eyes reflect his jubilant disposition. There\u2019s stubble along his jaw. A pink tinge on his cheeks affirms his constant amusement, and his hair, dark shades of mahogany slicked back with pomade, contrasts all of his mannerisms in a way that is roguishly charming. He looks utterly human.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe\u2019s not.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat if I don\u2019t answer?\u201d Clay ventures, heavily disliking the way his voice quivers.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJack\u2019s body twitches to life suddenly. His elbows snap to his sides and his shoulders roll back in an instant. Clay\u2019s knees hit the edge of the table again, exactly reminiscent of their first conversation.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThen I\u2019ll answer for you.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere\u2019s no way Clay\u2019s about to let that happen. Besides, in this case, the question is an easy one. Nobody ever gets to choose the means of his death, anyway. It sounds more like a curse than a blessing.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI want to know the answer,\u201d Clay finally responds. Jack\u2019s face lights up excitedly.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh, good! I was hoping you\u2019d pick that one,\u201d he trills. \u201cAlright, Clay, the truth is that I\u2019m a scientist. An observer of sorts.\u201d He pauses here to sip his hot chocolate and, finding the flavor too pleasing to resist, he finishes the cup in one swig. \u201cLong story short, I\u2019m conducting an experiment to learn about human behavior. I ask a question, then I observe both realities in order to see how reliably a human can judge itself.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cObserve both realities?\u201d Clay repeats, ignoring the rest of the odd wording. He wishes Paige were here. This is far more her field than his.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s right. I watch the reality of this alternative, and the reality in which the other alternative happened instead. Some of you know yourselves quite well. Others. Well.\u201d His eyes slide briefly to the door. Becca is long gone.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOkay, Clay thinks, clinging to the one word mantra. Okay. Okay.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhat does all this mean?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nDistractedly, he zeroes in on the details of Jack\u2019s face. He\u2019s got crow\u2019s feet from smiling so much. The guy probably shops at Banana Republic for God\u2019s sake.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSo, hypothetically,\u201d the words come slowly, \u201cif you asked me a question, and I answered it, you could tell me what would\u2019ve happened if I\u2019d made the other choice.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cExactly.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd a few weeks ago, when Sandra said she\u2019d rather win a million dollars than be able to fly anywhere for free&#8230;\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTomorrow,\u201d Jack confirms cheerfully. \u201cShe found a lottery ticket in her gutter this morning.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA million dollars. That\u2019s a lot of money. Hell, Carl could\u2019ve won the whole jackpot if he\u2019d been more heartless. And then there\u2019s his neighbor with the thousand dollars, and Ms. McGruder with her new car.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSo, if I asked you to ask me a question \u2013\u201c<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh, no, no, no, no,\u201d Jack interrupts emphatically, his finger wagging. \u201cThat wouldn\u2019t be very scientific at all. It only works if I choose the questions.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOf course that would be the case, Clay realizes. Otherwise he\u2019d just be granting wishes. Still, he finds himself considering the words against his better judgment. For the most part, Becca aside, Jack\u2019s inquiries generally seem to run the gamut of favorable outcomes and benign ones. The risk is certainly there. It\u2019s just a matter of the reward.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA million dollars is a lot of money.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe taps his finger against his mug and asks before he can stop himself, \u201cWould you ask me a question, then?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat doesn&#8217;t sound like a good idea for you.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhy?\u201d He goes rigid in his seat. He hadn\u2019t realized he\u2019d been sweating, but the faux-leather clings to his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. \u201cAre you going to ask me something terrible?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI had no intention of doing that, but this is about foresight, Clay, and I&#8217;m sure you said you didn&#8217;t want an interview.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah, well, I changed my mind.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJack\u2019s grin widens minutely. Clay pretends not to notice. \u201cAre you sure?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes, yes, I\u2019m sure,\u201d he insists, his nervousness fueling his impatience.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAlright then!\u201d Jack wastes no time grabbing his pen. He tips the notepad up toward him, obscuring his scribbles. \u201cLet\u2019s start with a fun one, shall we? Something very simple. If you could choose between falling in love or finding something you\u2019ve lost, which would you pick?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClay\u2019s posture droops at the question. He\u2019s relieved and disappointed by the options. \u201cBut I\u2019m already in love.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cPaige. My girlfriend.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThe\u2013oh, I see, the woman you\u2013oh,\u201d Jack draws out the vowel. His hand rises up to his mouth in a rather dainty and theatrical display of awkwardness. \u201cHow silly of me! I guess I\u2019ll just have to save that one for later. Let\u2019s see here.\u201d He trails off momentarily, tapping his chin. Clay can easily imagine the light bulb clicking on above his head when he sticks his finger up in a moment of inspiration.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019ve got it. Would you rather marry the woman you\u2019re dating now, or lose her to another man?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat?\u201d Clay jolts halfway out of his seat, knocking over a half-empty glass of water. The waitress gives him a pointed glance and he slowly lowers himself back down. \u201cWhat kind of a question is that?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJack looks mildly offended. \u201cWell, I thought it was an interesting one.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut\u2013those choices!\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYours to make,\u201d he replies lightly.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSome choice. Clay wrings his hands in his lap. He should\u2019ve kept his mouth shut. So much for a million dollars, he laments, because this is certainly going to be his last question. He\u2019s suddenly glad that Paige isn\u2019t here despite his earlier wish.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt\u2019s not that he doesn\u2019t love her, he reminds himself, woodenly sipping his hot chocolate and watching Jack coo over his dwindling plate of sweets. It\u2019s not a matter of love, though. It\u2019s a matter of life. Which is long. At twenty-six, he can reasonably expect to live for another fifty years, and to be with the same woman for the entirety of it is something he hadn\u2019t considered. Forever is a long time to be tied down, and then, there would eventually be kids. He&#8217;d be stuck in this town without ever getting to see what else the world had to offer.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut that\u2019s not fair, is it? What would Paige pick? Clay chews his tongue irately. Damn Jack, he thinks, and his damn questions. He and Paige have been dating for nearly two years, and while he\u2019s enjoyed it, how could he reasonably assume that would remain true for the next five decades? There are a lot of people in the world. Not to mention possibilities, places to see, people to meet. If something like Jack can exist, there\u2019s no telling what he might be barring himself from. If he marries Paige, he&#8217;ll never get the chance to find out.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI pick the second one,\u201d he finally mutters.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh?\u201d Jack gradually lowers the croissant just before it reaches his mouth. \u201cI wasn\u2019t expecting that.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClay tenses, immediately defensive, \u201cI love her, but how can I be sure that I will when I\u2019m thirty, or forty, or fifty-years-old?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s a good point,\u201d he concedes after a moment\u2019s thought.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd then he resumes eating. Clay waits for something to happen, some Adonis to drop out of the sky, but there\u2019s nothing but the scraping of forks against plates and the quiet chatter of the sparse diners. Jack is licking his fingers clean.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSo?\u201d Clay asks impatiently.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSo? Would you like another one?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo! I just\u2013is that all?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell, I mean, are you going to finish your hot chocolate?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBordering on furious now, he shoves the mug across the table. Some of the liquid sloshes up over the rim of the cup, but Jack doesn\u2019t seem to care.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClay yanks his jacket on and leaves without another word.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt takes three weeks. Three agonizing weeks. Clay wishes it would\u2019ve been over with the moment he answered the question, but no. Time passes sluggishly in a daze of anxious paranoia. It feels to him that he spends the next twenty-one days wading through corn syrup.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt begins with the text messages, or so he thinks. He never finds concrete proof. Still, when Paige\u2019s phone buzzes against the dresser at three in the morning, his hand immediately reaches for it, typing in her password at a near frenzied pace.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe merely raises an eyebrow at him. She\u2019s barely visible in the dark, hopefully missing his panicked expression, and he replaces the phone back on the nightstand. It\u2019s her sister.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe one reassurance doesn\u2019t help. Each time her phone vibrates, an alarm bell in his head rattles along with it. After a few days, it\u2019s enough to make her angry, and they fight for the first time in six months when she finds him scrolling through her text messages again. He&#8217;s on the couch, hunched over the screen. Paige stands on the other side of the coffee table and waits for him to notice.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen he does, she says impatiently, &#8220;Are you finished?&#8221; Her tone suggests that he promptly say yes. Clay nods, but his apologetic look hardly abates her frustration. &#8220;What has gotten into you?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClay puts the phone in her waiting hand and keeps his eyes in the table. &#8220;What do you mean?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I mean that a few weeks ago, you were so distant I wasn&#8217;t sure you cared anymore, and now you&#8217;re acting like I&#8217;m the one who&#8217;s about to disappear on you.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Well, I obviously care a lot then,&#8221; he tries to lighten the mood, but in the face of her anger, he may as well have told a knock-knock joke to a brick wall. She shakes her head, shoves her phone in her pocket, and grabs the car keys.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe makes no move to stop her. Paige pauses with one hand on the doorknob, the other on her hip. &#8220;You&#8217;d better figure yourself out, Clay, because I sure as hell can&#8217;t.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe&#8217;s in the middle of asking her where she&#8217;s going when she shuts the door. The fight only exacerbates his worries. He turns her drawers inside out in search of a different brand of condoms, or new lingerie, or anything incriminating, but there\u2019s never anything there. He apologizes at the end of every argument. He buys her flowers. He absorbs the tones and lilts of her voice, commits her jokes to memory, studies her face while she sleeps, right up until the end of the third week when she sits him down, her lips set in a grim line.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe need to talk.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt\u2019s over, she says. She\u2019s fallen in love with someone else.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLong before that moment, Clay knows he\u2019s made a mistake. He storms into the diner early the next morning, his hands fisted resolutely in the pockets of his leather jacket, and takes a seat at the counter. It feels as though he\u2019s been emptied out and filled with cement. He can hardly turn his head when the door chime announces the entrance of a new patron, and when Jack at last arrives in a flurry of good cheer, he hardly makes it four steps before Clay is grabbing him by the sleeve of his coat and sitting him down in a booth.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m hungry, Clay.\u201d Jack is smiling, but his words don\u2019t sound very friendly. Clay wisely orders a dozen assorted pastries and two mochas. It\u2019s only after the food arrives that Jack speaks again, and whatever emotion he\u2019d hidden beneath his plastic smile seems to dissipate at the first sugary bite. \u201cSo, what can I help you with? Are you here for another interview?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClay is hardly in the mood for games. His tone is blunt. \u201cI want my girlfriend back.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s not what you said a few weeks ago,\u201d Jack answers easily.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClay slams his fist against the table, ignoring the looks of the waitresses. \u201cI don\u2019t care! How could I have known which choice to make? You tricked me.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhy, Clay.\u201d Jack gives him a sympathetic look as he tears a sugar cookie in two. \u201cI don\u2019t know anything about that, remember? I\u2019m just an observer.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBullshit.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThere is no reply. Jack dips the cookie into his drink, watching fascinatedly as the coffee drips from the sweet, forming a thin layer of buttery oil on the top of the liquid in his mug. When he takes a bite, his eyes light up, and he becomes immediately engrossed in repeating the process. It\u2019s apparent he\u2019s not going to answer.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI want another question,\u201d Clay says firmly.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat&#8217;s not really what you want.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes it is! I want to fix this!\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJack still doesn\u2019t look up from his food. \u201cFine, then. If you could pick between being you, or being the man your girlfriend is in love with, which would you choose?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClay slams his hand on the table again. He shoots the staff a glance that has them quickly turning away. \u201cThat\u2019s not fixing it.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI thought you said you just wanted to be with her.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s not the same!\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJack shrugs. He doesn\u2019t look concerned in the slightest. \u201cSo, you pick you, then?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOf course!\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI really wish you\u2019d stop doing that,\u201d he remarks nonchalantly, waving a hand at Clay\u2019s fist still pushed into the tabletop.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI wish you would just give me a choice that makes any damn sense.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt&#8217;s hardly my fault that you don&#8217;t know yourself.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen Clay&#8217;s hand comes down again, Jack\u2019s smile fades. Just a little. He wipes his gloves on a napkin and laces his fingers together. If he\u2019s angry, his tone doesn\u2019t reflect it.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019ll level with you, Clay, and ask you outright. What is it that you think you want from me?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI already told you,\u201d he replies through gritted teeth. \u201cI want my girlfriend back.\u201d<br \/>\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 to be a scientist to tell you that\u2019s obviously not true, not that you would know,\u201d Jack continues before he can be interrupted, stopping Clay\u2019s ready retort. \u201cWould you rather kill your girlfriend\u2019s lover and win her back, or leave things as they are?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s\u2013that\u2019s not\u2026\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe trails off. This is yet another bad idea, but it\u2019s not like he has a choice. The available decisions are bleak: rely on Jack\u2019s questions to resolve the situation, or walk away. Clay puts his head in his hands, pressing his palms into his eyes to try and soothe a headache, and attempts to think through the rapidly escalating stress. He can hear the scraping of empty plates around him. The kitchen staff shouts in the background. The diner fills over the next ten minutes, the breakfast crowd multiplying as it nears close to eight in the morning. Jack mumbles quietly to the waitress, and Clay feels the table vibrate as she sets down another full platter.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt feels like there should be an obvious answer to this question, he thinks irritably, but there isn\u2019t. Paige\u2019s lover wouldn\u2019t be the only one getting hurt if he died, and Clay has no intention of killing anyone. But he won\u2019t lose her either.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen he finally looks up, Jack is tonguing the inside of a Bavarian cream donut in a rather suggestive way. He\u2019s holding it above his head like he\u2019s emptying a pitcher of water into his mouth. His trench coat separates slightly around the middle button, and it only takes a moment for Clay to realize that Jack is naked underneath it. The absurdity almost makes him laugh, but it\u2019s hard to find anything funny right now.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI would never hurt her like that,\u201d he interrupts the spectacle before him.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cReally?\u201d Jack removes his tongue from the pastry. He licks the sugar from his lips thoughtfully. \u201cIt\u2019s funny you should say that. In another reality, your answers actually led you to kill her. Oh, don\u2019t give me that look,\u201d he chides, tapping Clay on the nose with a sticky finger like he\u2019s teasing a child. \u201cYou had a reason. It\u2019s a long story, but it involved the misinterpretation of some romantic poetry, and then there was this bear at the zoo, and she contracted this strange disease that\u2013oh, nevermind,\u201d Jack cuts himself off, forgoing the rest. \u201cI\u2019m sure you can figure it out from there.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClay can\u2019t, of course, but he\u2019s not concerned with trying. \u201cI would never do that.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou have no idea what you&#8217;d do.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t do that.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut you di-id!\u201d Jack singsongs in a wavering, high-pitched voice. \u201cThere\u2019s no point in arguing about it, anyway. What\u2019s your choice?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClay flexes his fingers around his mug, not quite meeting the eyes of the man across from him. \u201cI don\u2019t think those are very fair choices.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIf choices were fair, they\u2019d be easy to make, Clay, and I wouldn\u2019t have a study at all.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI won\u2019t choose.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThen I\u2019ll choose for you.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo, you won\u2019t.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh?\u201d Jack tilts his head. \u201cAnd why is that?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBecause, if you did that, then you won\u2019t know what I would\u2019ve picked. It doesn\u2019t fit in with your experiment.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJack stops eating. A pastry drops from his grasp and rolls. The corner of his mouth twitches. Like a marionette\u2019s, his hands slide off the table and into his lap, and Clay wonders not for the first time if Jack is not, in fact, in control of his limbs.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s very clever of you,\u201d he admits. His shoulders convulse in an attempted shrug, but he doesn\u2019t seem to notice the unnatural movement. \u201cTell you what, Clay. I don\u2019t particularly like this situation you\u2019ve created, but I\u2019ll admit that your deduction is reasonable, given what you know, so I\u2019ll offer you one last question and not a single one more than that. Do you accept?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClay nods, satisfied with both the option and that he\u2019s taken Jack down a peg. Men like that, who think they can manipulate others so easily, deserve to be outsmarted once in a while.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAlright, then. Let\u2019s shake on it. No funny business, now, this question is very simple,\u201d Jack explains, and after they\u2019ve shaken hands, Jack\u2019s fingers clenching and unclenching like ungreased hinges, he asks, \u201cWould you rather die by the end of the week, or have you and Paige fall happily in love at the cost of someone else\u2019s life instead?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe question is immediate. \u201cWho?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo one you know.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI thought you said I couldn\u2019t choose my death,\u201d Clay points out suspiciously, but Jack just smiles benignly at him. His eyes have started drifting to the pile of powdered donuts on the table again.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLike I said, it\u2019s a very simple question.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe answer is easy, then. \u201cFine. I pick the second option.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOnce again, Jack returns to his food, and Clay waits once more to see if he\u2019ll say anything else, but he seems completely uninterested in him, now. There\u2019s powdered sugar forming a ring around his mouth. Some cream filling dots the corner of his lips. When he catches Clay looking at him, he grins widely.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI love sweets,\u201d he says. \u201cCan\u2019t resist them. What about you, Clay? Do you like dessert?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClay shudders. He shoves his mug away and stands. \u201cYou can finish that.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh, how kind of you!\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJack\u2019s giggling follows him out the door.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe same evening, Clay answers the door to find Paige outside, her eyes red-rimmed and wet with tears.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe\u2019s made a mistake, she says. Clay replies that he knows a thing or two about that. At his insistence, they find new places for their breakfast dates, far from Jack and Diner 66. On Wednesday, four days later, they have breakfast in bed. On Thursday, they drive into the city to get brunch at a white tablecloth restaurant. Paige makes a joke about marriage, and Clay&#8217;s hand slides over the small box in his jacket, dampening the velvet against his sweaty palm. It&#8217;s still in his pocket when they get home. They have plenty of time now, he thinks, with the rest of their lives ahead of them, and there&#8217;s not telling what might change. There&#8217;s no need to rush an uncertain future. He leaves the ring in the drawer of his nightstand.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOn Friday, they have a celebratory picnic in unusually warm weather.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nClay is picking her a flower when he\u2019s stung by a bee.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nToo bad he\u2019s lost his EpiPen.<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"blue\"><\/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>Big Blue<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy Subodhana Wijeyeratne<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen the documentarian comes over the ridge, the biologist is already unpacked and fussing over a bag.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe descends the slope, knees akimbo against the treacherous scree. His shadow tremulous in Nafthalar\u2019s diffuse sunlight. The biologist\u2019s tent is already up\u2014a violence of silver amidst the giant teal fungi and strange trees like giant eyestalks. She does not look up when he approaches, though he knows she heard him.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe stops a few feet away, and swallows, and says, \u201cHi.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe straightens and turns and bows briefly. She is wearing a breather and he knows that behind it she is pursing her lips. Her standard greeting. Rendered unfamiliar by the alien sun and the alien air and the technology keeping them alive.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe does not say anything.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhen did you arrive?\u201d he asks.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNot long ago,\u201d she says.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou look hot.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt is hot.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe looks around.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHere, then?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes. To begin with.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhere is he?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe gestures with her head. She has cut her hair into a fierce bob and it looks good on her, he thinks, but does not say so.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOver there. Down by the river.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow\u2019s he looking?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOlder.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell that\u2019s to be expected, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe shrugs.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYup.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe turns and resumes her fumbling. He lingers a few moments and then puts his backpack on the ground and takes out his drone. It skitters around on spindle thin mechanical legs, whirring and twittering like a mechanical rodent. Finally it straightens and fixes its lens on him.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOnline,\u201d it says.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cEstablish campsite,\u201d he says.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe turns and wanders off because he cannot think of anything else to do. He can hear the drone working behind him. The shuffle shuffle of pebbles and the dry hiss of the tent. He cannot see it but he knows it is blooming behind him like a ripening dewdrop.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe peers down at the valley but he cannot see their quarry. After a few moments she wanders up next to him with a scanner.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSo, how are things?\u201d he asks.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThings?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah. You know. Stuff.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSame as always.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow\u2019s the new place?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThe lab?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s good.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cJust good?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s a lab.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSilence.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd then, \u201cYou don\u2019t miss Earth?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019ll be back soon enough.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou will?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFinally she turns to look at him.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSoon enough,\u201d she says.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell, I\u2019m glad you\u2019re happy out there.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHappy enough.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m doing well too.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFor a moment he thinks maybe she will draw near or at least smile, but she does neither. She just nods and says, \u201cWe\u2019ll strike out just before dawn. Keep within a mile of him at all times. He\u2019s old now so I don\u2019t expect him to move very fast. But you never know.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cRight.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDon\u2019t get too close either.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI know.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd with that she turns and walks to her tent and leaves him there with nothing but the answers he had prepared to the questions that she had not asked.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe nights of Nafthalar are long and absolute. No moon to illuminate the gloom and the stars so cold and so far. Nothing but creeping shadows upon the darkness and winds slow and directionless like the spirits of a lost army still searching for battle. He remembers how lonely it had been the first time he was here, and thinks how lonely it is now, though many years have passed and he is much changed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe sleeps, but not for long. When he wakes he is alert and fretful. He reads the news a while, his face a topography of blue and black in the sharp light of the screen. After a while he gets dressed and clamps the breather over his mouth and heads outside.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAlready a frost is forming on the ground and there is a thin swirl of snow in the air. He turns on his chest light and his pheromone pump and immediately something clatters away in the night with the sound of claws on stone. He walks away from the camp and up a ridge. Slipping sometimes on the ice underfoot. It takes him longer than expected but he is determined not to go back. Then finally near the summit he sees a hint of blue light and the excitement overwhelms him and he clambers up to the top on all fours as he did the first time and perhaps, he thinks, he is not so changed after all.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen he is finally at the top he stops and puts his hands on his hips, panting, and laughs.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBig Blue is there.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe is sleeping. A colossal bioluminescent explosion of tentacles and gently swaying cilia the size of a man. His airsac, twenty meters across, deflated in the cold. Great flaps of glowing flesh, gossamer thin and rippling with light. A vast mass of life possessed of neither head nor tail nor left nor right.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe is still beautiful.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe documentarian sits on the ridge and ignores the cold clawing at his buttocks and watches Big Blue slumbering. Yes, older, he thinks. Some of those vast fleshy flaps frayed at the edges. Scars on his elephant-legs, each fifteen meters high and as vast around as tree trunks. Smaller creatures sneak around it, seeking warmth and a meal of parasites, or perhaps just entranced by the glimmer and shimmer of those lights that chase themselves over its skin like they too were alive and had intent and places to go.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe documentarian turns up his pump and turns off his light and watches. Time passes and the glowing decreases as the fire of the sun finally leaves the animal\u2019s flesh. Presently it begins to snow in earnest, fat spidery flakes, so heavy he can feel them coming to rest on his naked head.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen he returns to the camp a while later he sees that the lights are on in the biologist\u2019s tent. He thinks of approaching but when he draws near her door he sees footsteps in snow. Footsteps heading towards the ridge. He follows them and sees she has taken a route just a few meters from his. Up to the ridge, where he just was. She must have slipped past him in the dark.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSuddenly he is very tired and he returns to his tent and dry swallows some pills and a few moments later is deep in a sleep as dreamless as Nafthalar\u2019s night is dark.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe next day she is standing at the top of the ridge with her scanner when he comes out. Her bag packed and her drone a few feet behind her with a little cart hitched to its back. She descends clumsily and falls a couple of times but he knows better than to offer assistance.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHe\u2019s warming up,\u201d she says. \u201cWe have an hour or so.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDo you ever sleep?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSleep is for the weak.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe yawns and chokes immediately and begins to cough.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBetter get your breather on,\u201d she says.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah. Hungry?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI already ate.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOf course you did.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe is in his tent when he hears the deep rumble of Big Blue\u2019s call. The squawking overhead of alarmed skyjackals. And then, the thud of a giant foot on the ground.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe comes out with his toothbrush still in his mouth in time to see the creature lumbering past like some titanic god from a time before reason or order. Its pillar legs not ten feet away. Its airsac distending rapidly as it goes, ozone blue like a Portuguese man o\u2019war. In its transparent belly colossal coils of innards sliding in aureate ichor. He is stuck to the spot and a little dribble of toothpaste dollops fatly from the corner of his lip onto his jumpsuit but he does not care.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey head off after it, the drones buzzing and humming behind them. Twenty minutes behind schedule, the biologist chides, but the creature is not moving fast. They climb up the ridge and down and then over another. There is a little stream at the bottom, over-blue water and rippling sheets of living things half-plant and half-animal and altogether alien. Little scurrying creatures chasing each other in play or in hunger with equal violence. The biologist stops occasionally and crouches by some rock or pond and runs her scanner over the ground and mutters something into it and then looks at him and nods and they keep on. Never losing sight of Big Blue\u2019s great crest like some gargantuan electric blossom up ahead.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSixteen hours to sunset,\u201d she says. \u201cWe should take turns taking naps.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m going to try to make it all the way through,\u201d says the documentarian.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSuit yourself.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey continue on. To the east a vast valley, flat and dull grey, with a river meandering through it in multitudinous mercury streams. The odd squat tree with crowns as flat and uniform as a mushroom\u2019s hood. In the clearing sky motes that could be flying creatures or something else.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA little while longer in silence and the documentarian says, \u201cAre you going to be like this for the rest of the trip?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe biologist glances at him and doesn\u2019t say anything.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSo you are, then.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLet\u2019s just get this done.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe documentarian sighs. \u201cI know you didn\u2019t expect this but I didn\u2019t expect you to be so difficult.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m not being difficult.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes you are. I know you well enough to tell.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMaybe you don\u2019t know me very well.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBullshit. I know you as well as I know myself.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMaybe you don\u2019t know yourself very well.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cJesus, seriously?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe holds up her hand.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cListen.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo, listen. Can you hear that?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey have come to a stop, all of them. Up ahead Big Blue\u2019s tentacles all turn and point east. Their tips splayed and quivering.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSkyjackals!\u201d says the documentarian, and turns to his drone. \u201cShit.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey lie flat on their bellies, pheromone pumps turned up high. The rich scent of the stuff in their noses, like sweat and pollen. The documentarian whispers something and his drone spits four small orbs of black into the air which zip off towards Big Blue.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat\u2019re you doing?\u201d says the biologist. \u201cYou\u2019re going to lose them.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe doesn\u2019t say anything. He is holding a small screen to his face and in it the flying things from the east are resolving into shape. Hummingbird-like wings, four each, and slung between them a carnivore. Vicious teeth in elongated snouts and the staring eyes of all things that kill to live. They zoom towards Big Blue and the colossal creature shudders and the flaps on its body open up like sails run through with vivid violet veins.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSixteen of them,\u201d says the documentarian. \u201cTwo alphas. See that? Two alphas!\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI see it,\u201d says the biologist.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe creatures bear down on Big Blue and orbit him, as tiny as flies against his colossal flanks. Then one or two of them fly straight in between his flaps to the delicate flesh of his torso and hover there a while, scratching at the skin and nuzzling it. Then another slips in, and another. Soon all are deep in Big Blue\u2019s folds, busy at some task neither human can see.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m going in closer,\u201d says the documentarian.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDon\u2019t.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m going in closer.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey stare at their screens, and after a few moments the biologist says, \u201cAre those parasites?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLooks like it.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWow.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWow, look at them go!\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA deep rumble, and Big Blue\u2019s flaps quiver. Shimmering colors all over his body, turquoise and deep blue and crimson like fresh blood. Then he shudders and a thin spray erupts from him in an aerosol haze. With it a strange aroma not quite of vinegar and not quite of flowers. The skyjackals scatter in chattering rage and then circle back and slip back up to Big Blue\u2019s hide and get back to their feast.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe biologists laughs. \u201cHe loves it! Look at him. Look at that flushing!\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOld boy\u2019s got some new tricks.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah,\u201d says the biologist. \u201cWho\u2019d\u2019ve thought?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThough the documentarian cannot see it, she is smiling.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey make camp not soon after the end of Nafthalar\u2019s lingering dusk and Big Blue has settled for the evening in the lee of a low hill. The biologist disappears into her tent as soon as it is erect with a nod and nothing else. The documentarian lingers watching the stars wink into view in the moonless sky and eventually the rim of the Milky Way fades into view and blazes above like it were the revelation of all revelations.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen the cold begins to bite he goes to his tent and extracts a little cooker and a packet of bacon and some bread and a small bottle of black sauce and a little pan. A few minutes later he hears a tapping over the rustling of the fat and the oil.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHold on,\u201d he says and takes a plaster and covers the ring on his right hand. \u201cCome in.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe biologist\u2019s head peeks in and for an instant he remembers an occasion just like this from long ago and feels a nostalgia that evaporates as she starts to speak.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIs that bacon?\u201d she says.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYup.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe steps in and zips the door of the tent up behind her. A brief hiss as it repressurizes.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou brought bacon?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah. Who\u2019d leave Earth without bacon?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI did.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s tragic.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSo, you want some?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe nods.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSit down.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe plonks to the floor, cross legged, across from him. The sizzling meat between them. It crackles and curls at the edges and the fat turns from milky to brownish and finally to clear gold. The biologist opens her mouth but before she can speak the documentarian has extracted three dripping rashers and placed them on a slice of bread and squeezed a thin line of brown sauce over them with the flourish of an artist savoring the last few strokes of a masterpiece. He holds the plate out to her and she takes it from him and folds the slice in half. The crunch of the stuff as she takes her first bite. The slow roll of her jaws as she chews luxuriously.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHappy?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHappy.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe throws a couple of rashers more into the spitting oil and leans back against his bed. \u201cMust be weird living on a station. My skin always dries up on those things.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe biologist takes another bite and looks up at him. \u201cAs if you\u2019d know. You\u2019ve never spent more than a week on one.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWrong. I spent six months on Chandra.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhen?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLast year. Filming cockroaches.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cCockroaches?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSomeone paid you to film cockroaches on a space station?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cApparently it\u2019s a problem.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHuh.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMy parents still can\u2019t get their head around it. I think it confirmed all their wildest concerns about what I do when I told them I was off to space to film bugs.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe biologist chuckles and takes another huge bite and sighs. They sit in silence awhile, watching the bacon cook.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow are they?\u201d she asks.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMy parents?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThey\u2019re good. Retired now.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBoth?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah. Back on Earth. In Brazil, would you believe?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat was always the plan, right?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe looks at her and frowns and she pauses halfway through a bite when she notices. A little smear of brown sauce at the corner of her mouth. Then she swallows and says \u201cWhat?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m just surprised you remembered.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe doesn\u2019t say anything.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMy brother got married.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMunira?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo. Abigail.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo!\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe turns off the flame and puts the bacon on a slice of bread.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHe invited you, you know.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTo his wedding?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes. He sent you an invitation.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHe probably sent it to the wrong address.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s what I said.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe biologist pops the last of the sandwich into her mouth and swallows and wipes her hands on her trousers and stands up. The little dab of sauce still at the corner of her lips. The documentarian points to the pan. \u201cMore?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo. Thank you, though.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou\u2019ve got some sauce on your mouth.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe wipes it away.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThank you very much.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe walks to the exit and unzips it and for a moment the documentarian thinks that is all she will say before she leaves. But she pauses, halfway through, and turns to him and says, \u201cTell him I\u2019m sorry, will you? I would love to have been there but&#8230;well.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou\u2019d\u2019ve been welcome,\u201d says the documentarian.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe stares at him, still and inscrutable, and then for the briefest of moments her face softens.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI know,\u201d she says quietly. \u201cThat\u2019s why I couldn\u2019t have come.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd with that, she is gone.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey walk in silence the next day as Big Blue stomps with massive dignity over the tributaries of the river. After a while the documentarian activates a drone and sends it off to the west, into the narrow valleys and crevasses that scar the hillsides where fleshy leaves droop in the gathering heat and insect analogues buzz and quarrel endlessly.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cFive days from the beach,\u201d says the biologist after a while. \u201cHe won\u2019t make it without feeding.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThere\u2019ll be something nearby.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI wonder why he\u2019s so far inland.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNot a clue. He\u2019s not the only one, though.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThere\u2019s more?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTwo other males, at least. The drones caught them.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cStrange.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIsn\u2019t it?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI wonder if he remembers us.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI doubt it.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhy?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDo they even have memories? They don\u2019t even have a central nervous system.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDoesn\u2019t mean they don\u2019t have memories.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe\u2019re probably just a clutch of weird smelling chemicals to him.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSo maybe he remembers that.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah, but that\u2019s not us.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cPeople are just clutches of weird smelling chemicals.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe documentarian sucks in air through his teeth and says, \u201cWow. That\u2019s dark.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey descend into the valley and carry on over the grey-black earth, water welling up around their boots, ink, black and glossy with alluvium.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhoa,\u201d says the documentarian. \u201cLook at this.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe patches the feed from the drone through to the biologist. A shuddering chaos of a bare stone cliff face. Smears of lichen like emerald blood on the rock. And then suddenly an explosion of pink. There is a cluster of living things in a small fissure. Opalescent blobs clinging to the rock face. Tentacles as slim as leaves and moving against the wind.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWow,\u201d says the biologist. \u201cNever seen those before.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe turns and heads up the hillside.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhere\u2019re you going?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTo see.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat, you\u2019re just going to climb up that cliff face?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe is already halfway up, clambering on all fours, her drone alarmed and buzzing behind her, chattering.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYes. You don\u2019t have to come.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m not going to.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cFine.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd what am I supposed to do when you fall off and break your legs?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSummon the pod. It\u2019ll take me to safety.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDammit.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe stops and looks down at him. Her face obscured in her own shadow. Like the silhouette of some old prophet descending in rage from the mountaintop.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cStop it,\u201d she says, and continues on.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe is alone for the next few hours, trudging along behind Big Blue, slipping and cursing and avoiding the great circular puddles the creature has left in its wake. The sun rides high and bakes the ground solid. Every now and then the documentarian stops and looks back over his shoulder to see if the biologist is behind him, but she never is.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThen in the middle of the long afternoon Big Blue lumbers up to a patch of huge pitcher plants, amphora shaped and ten feet tall. The vague shapes of half-digested skyjackals inside, dark and inert. Big Blue comes to a halt and extends a giant proboscis and dips it into one of them. The documentarian can see the nectar as it enters the creature\u2019s body and delicate tendrils of it osmosing greenly through its insides. He dispatches three drones and films intently and does not notice the biologist coming up behind him.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWorth it?\u201d he says.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe holds up a small tub with one of the anemone creatures inside, wobbling like a living blancmange.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWorth it.\u201d She looks at Big Blue. \u201cHe\u2019s hungry.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMust be exhausting, all this walking around on land.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTell me about it.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey watch the spectacle a while. Then he says, \u201cDo you think he\u2019s going to make it?\u201d<br \/>\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. He\u2019s quite old.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell, if there\u2019s no other male there&#8230;\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOn a beach like that? There will be.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s what I thought.\u201d And then, \u201cRemember last time?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOf course.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cRemember how we didn\u2019t think he\u2019d make it then?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMaybe he\u2019ll make it this time too.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cProbably not.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe documentarian frowns. \u201cGod, you\u2019re so negative.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s pronounced \u201crealistic\u201d.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNegative.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe biologist shrugs. \u201cIf you say so.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThis is just like last time.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou weren\u2019t so whiny back then.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd you were just as obstinate.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSo?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe documentarian snorts and walks away.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe biologist chuckles. \u201cYep,\u201d she says. \u201cJust like last time.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt is just before nightfall that they see the other male on the horizon. A shapeless silhouette lumbering slowly in their direction, glowing neon and fluorescent on a horizon slowly bleeding from blue to black. Big Blue stops dead in its tracks, membranes rigid, tentacles pointed at the interloper.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHoly shit,\u201d says the biologist, scrambling for her gear.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOn it,\u201d says the documentarian.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSix drones buzz up and off into the gathering murk and as they do Big Blue begins to call. The sound so deep it seems to rise out of the earth like the drums of the underworld. The pebbles at their feet dancing against the vibrations. Then abruptly it ends and leaves the air shuddering and the biologist and the documentarian breathless.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe male on the horizon stops.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHe\u2019s a big one,\u201d says the documentarian.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLet me see.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe biologist leans into him and peers at the screen.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWow,\u201d she says, and looks up at Big Blue. \u201cYou think he can handle it?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah, he can handle it,\u201d says the documentarian, grinning.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAlready the response is upon them, the earthquake-low rumble, and Big Blue is enraged. He unfurls his membranes and sweeps them up and down, iridescing in the darkness like a fallen aurora.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHere we go,\u201d says the biologist.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBig Blue stomps the ground twice and begins to shake. The earth shaking with him. A rumble and boom erupting from beneath them louder than before and more forceful. The pebbles spring hither and thither. The sound rises until they can barely stand it and Big Blue whips the gossamer substance of his body with rising fervor until the world is illuminated with his rage and his call is so loud the biologist and the documentarian have to cover their ears.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen he is done, they cheer.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe finishes with four stamps on the ground and his body slowly subsides to limpness but the other male\u2019s response is already thundering out of the east. Diminished by distance and perhaps not as strong to begin with. Yet the ground still shakes and on the horizon he blazes a while, redder and brighter than Big Blue. And then Big Blue starts up again and so the two behemoths go on backwards and forwards getting louder and brighter until the biologist and documentarian feel sure they are about to explode and scatter themselves bodily all over the valley. At last the male in the distance lets out a forlorn bellow and its light diminishes and it disappears into the far distant darkness without a trace.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBig Blue stomps the ground a few more times and launches into another display, but he too is exhausted and his colors less vibrant and he ends the show halfway through the cycle. The fizzing light of his flesh dissipating into the night. Naught now but the sound of his alien huffing and the hormones flooding in torrents from his skin.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou gotta see this,\u201d says the documentarian.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey watch the footage from the cameras, nestled at the bottom of a hill. Leaning in together conspiratorially and laughing and high-fiving in delight. The drones stand by in silence, undirected and unaware. It is not until the cold winds of the evening slip across the valley floor and onto them that they stir and begin to pitch the tents.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe biologist tries to sleep but she can\u2019t. Scattered visions of the night crowding her head. The confines of her tent semidark and expansive and empty. When she realizes what she is going to do the tension rises in her and after a while wrestling with it she gets up and reaches into her bag. She pulls out a bottle of dark amber liquid and dons her breather and heads out into the frosty night.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe documentarian is sitting on the floor by his bed when she goes in. Reading something from an old book. Older, she thinks, and going to fat. The hair on his head receding, his forehead high and pitted. He looks up at her, eyebrows raised, and she remembers that this is what he does when he does not know how to react.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe smiles and holds up the bottle. \u201cDrink?\u201d she says.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNow?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSuit yourself.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe turns to leave.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo, wait. I don\u2019t have any glasses though.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cJust wipe it when you hand it back.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe sits opposite him, cross-legged, and opens the bottle with a crack. She takes a swig and it is deep and fiery and hot as sulphur in her throat. She hands the bottle to him gasping with the force of it and he takes it and sips a little.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat happened to your finger?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMy finger?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe points at his hand. \u201cThat plaster.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh. I skinned it.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey drink in silence but for the crackle of the tent cloth. She takes a good hard look at his face and he does not seem to mind. She does not remember his eyes being so small, or his lips being so full. She does not remember him having flecks of silver in his beard and in his hair, and then remembers that her memories are of long ago, and perhaps of a different person.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe takes another swig and hands her back the bottle and she takes a drink without wiping the mouth and puts the bottle down next to her. Then she lies down and looks up at the rippling tent cloth overhead. The creeping warmth of the booze on her skin and in her heart. She stretches and says, \u201cJust like last time.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNot quite.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe\u2019re older now.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd wiser.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMaybe you.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe shrugs. \u201cWe all get wiser.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNot so sure about that.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe props herself up on one arm and looks over at him. He is gazing off into a dark corner of the tent, chewing his lip. Face half lost in shadow. He has not noticed her looking at him and for a moment she sees him unpoised and wonders if this is how he really is now. Old and melancholy and a little lost.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow are you?\u201d she asks.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe snaps his head around at her like a bird.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m good! You?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo. I mean, how are you, really?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe looks away. And then, \u201cYou want the real answer?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSure.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNot bad.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cJust not bad?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cJust not bad.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou seem so busy.\u201d<br \/>\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?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe shrugs. \u201cI read the news.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh. For a moment there I thought you took an interest.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe nearly tells him the truth but instead she holds the bottle out to him and he stares into its dark amber depths for a few moments before taking a swig and grimacing. And again they look at each other and open their mouths at the same time and get through half a syllable each before chuckling in unison.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe documentarian leans back and says, \u201cPlease.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo, you go.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI talk enough as it is.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI like listening to you talk.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s a lie.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo, it\u2019s not. The only problem is you talk too much.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe documentarian smiles and looks away and is silent for a good long time. The biologist begins to think he has got lost in a daydream and she is about to prod him when he says, quietly and barely audible over the crackling of the tent, \u201cIt\u2019s good to see you.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe reaches out and takes the bottle and takes another drink. The hearty glug of the liquid in her throat. She does not say anything but lies silently in that twilight, watching him with what could have been sadness for him, or else sadness for herself. She cannot be sure which.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe is only awake for a few moments before she realizes she is hung over. Her tongue fat in her mouth and a dry pain at the front of her skull. She opens her eyes and realizes she is not in her tent and in a panic looks to her side. But the documentarian is asleep on the floor a few feet away, fully dressed and mouth pressed to the ground and drooling slightly like a remora come loose.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe steps shoeless and silent across the tent floor and checks the time as she goes. It is already bright outside, and hot. She checks the time and whispers \u201cShit!\u201d and prods the documentarian with her foot.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh god,\u201d he groans. \u201cOh sweet Jesus in the manger.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWake up. We\u2019re late.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe rolls over onto his front, yes cherry red. The side of his face wrinkled like cloth. \u201cWhat was that shit? You said it was whiskey. Not&#8230;demon semen. \u2019<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cStop whining. Get ready.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe turns and zips open the tent. The heat and the light and the moistureless wind in an explosion as sudden and violent as a grenade. She steps blindly into the world and finds herself unexpectedly in shadow. She opens her eyes slowly and looks up at the sight before her and screams and then clamps her hands over her mouth. After a few seconds she reaches back into the tent with her foot and whips it around a bit. The frantic rustling of the material like static.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHey!\u201d she hisses.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGet your camera and come out quietly.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGet your\u2026\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhy?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cJust get out here!\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe documentarian staggers out a few seconds later and gasps and falls backwards into the tent.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBig Blue is barely twenty meters away. His bulk towering overhead. The patter of his secretions on the floor like gentle rain. He sways gently and tastes the air. All of his tentacles pointed at the two, some rigid, some rippling slowly with eerie octopus flexibility.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe biologist stretches out her hand and steps forward. The documentarian hisses and grabs her shirt but she pinches his wrist and he whips his hand back. The tentacles draw near her. Flushing now, purple and blue and pink. The biologist reaches out and touches them. Smooth and warm under her fingertips and pulsating organically. They caress her skin and wrap slowly around her hand. A tingle on her skin like a gentle current.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThen suddenly she is young and long haired and clambering over Nafthalar\u2019s topography in amazement because she had never seen rocks so big or creatures so strange. Silver clad and quick like she were a drop of starlight come to life. And behind her another figure. A slower presence and kinder perhaps. Both tiny together in this strange world.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe vision lasts just an instant.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen she opens her eyes she sees Big Blue\u2019s huge tentacle rising up into the air and his column-legs bending with slow majesty as he begins to trundle away.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHe remembers us,\u201d she whispers.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHe remembers you,\u201d says the documentarian.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo, us,\u201d she says and wipes the tears from her eyes. \u201cUs.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThose were the same colors it flashed last time, right?\u201d asks the documentarian.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDunno,\u201d she says. \u201cBest get ready. He\u2019ll be off soon.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou think he waited for us?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWho knows?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe documentarian goes to say something else but the biologist strides straight into her tent, face averted, unzips it, and slips inside. The clutter of silver devices and notes on the floor. The winking lights of her drone lying motionless in the corner. It comes awake when she walks over to her bed but she waves it away and sits on the edge of her bed and buries her face in her hands and weeps. The documentarian taps on the tent door but when he opens she hisses and waves him away too.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhen she emerges a little while later he is packed and fiddling with a console. He looks up at her, chewing on his lip. Like a little boy caught red handed in some mischief. He gets up when she approaches and she is about to say something when she notices a glimmer of gold on his right hand. He notices her notice an instant too late and goes to hide his hand behind his back but then gives up.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat the hell is that?\u201d she says.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe raises her eyebrows and points at his hand. \u201cThat.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe knows what she is pointing at but he lifts his hand to his face and takes a good hard look at the ring as if he had never seen it before.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s not ours, is it?\u201d she asks.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe documentarian nods.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe should get going,\u201d he says.<br \/>\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 asks the biologist.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat?\u201d<br \/>\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<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe points at Big Blue. \u201cTo film him. Why else?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLiar.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m not lying.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThen why are you here? You don\u2019t have to film him. You could have sent some drones. Or someone else. Why are you here?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI thought it would be nice. To see you.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhy? Why the hell would you want to see me? Why?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cRelax. Jesus.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe biologist rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. Her brow furrowed over her breather. Her eyes narrowed and fierce.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat do you want from me, man?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cJesus, Miriam, calm down. I don\u2019t want anything from you.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThen why would you want to see me?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe documentarian holds up his hands palm outwards and steps away as if she were coming at him blade drawn and murderous.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cListen, I don\u2019t want anything from you, I just thought it would be nice to see you again, that\u2019s all.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBullshit. Why haven\u2019t you taken it off? Do you realize how weird that is?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s not weird. I just&#8230;needed some time.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe cannot maintain eye contact and after a few second he turns away and stares across the valley. Golden blue and bereft of foliage. A landscape with nowhere to hide. The biologist stares at the back of his neck, mute with fury and grief. She draws her crossed arms tighter around her body and looks over at Big Blue\u2019s figure disappearing down the valley. Then she turns and grabs her bag and starts marching up the hillside.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWait!\u201d says the documentarian.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe wheels around and glares.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDon\u2019t follow me.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m going on ahead. You follow Big Blue. Down in the valley.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou can\u2019t\u2026\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDon\u2019t.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMiriam\u2026\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDo. Not.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cJesus, why\u2019re you so angry, anyway? I\u2019m the one who got fucked.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe freezes, her back to him, silhouetted against the blue grey hillside.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGo to hell, Mazin,\u201d she says, not looking back.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe storms up the hillside kicking pebbles down in little avalanches. The clouds now streaming in above her as if her temper were churning the skies themselves. And then she disappears over that elevated horizon and the documentarian is left alone to stare at his ring.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe walks, unflagging, through that long Nafthalian afternoon. The sunlight perforating a veil of cloud but no less oppressively hot for all the shade. Soon she is sweating. To her left, a thin sliver of grey beach, and beyond that the sea, wrinkled and static and endless. By mid-afternoon she is well past Big Blue. By the time the shadows begin to creep out to her right, elongating and black as tar, she has lost sight of him completely.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe finally arrives at the beach. Up above, a flock of cawing motes, and the tangy smell of sea creatures on the air. Here and there there are large holes in the sand, clustered in pairs, rimmed with detritus. Dead fish and glistening patches of some organic liquid. Occasionally a bird analogue settles in chattering cacophony and pokes about and takes flight again, pursued by its kin, something squirming in its beak.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe chooses a vantage spot halfway down the beach and settles about fifty meters up a hillside. It is cooler in the shade but not cool enough so she attaches a small packet of juice to her breather and lies down and closes her eyes for a moment. Then she feels a deep rumble in the ground and sitting up, sees something emerging from the sea. Something a lot like Big Blue but bigger still and tinged purple. Another male.  Slowly rising out of the water like a nightmare from the depths. Great cataracts of water flooding off its body. It steps onto the sand and its feet sink deep.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBehind her, her drone clicks to life and starts filming.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe male approaches a pair of holes, dripping water and hormones. Its proboscis extends, pearly white and spasming in peristaltic rhythm. Another proboscis emerges from the hole, larger and wider, its tip flared like a trumpet and ringed with little feathery cilia. The male\u2019s organ settles above it and contracts and empties a torrent of matter into it. A crimson and pink gush of liquid nutrients. She can smell it where she is, a rankness undiminished by the distance.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThen something emerges out of the other hole\u2014another giant tube, but this one pink and purple and stinking of pheromones. The male swings another tentacle over it. Its anemone-arms rigid and quivering in anticipation. The two appendages fasten together and the instant the male has finished emptying his crop he shakes his whole body and empties his seed too. Thick ropes of slimy stuff coursing from one to the other and trickling in excess down their bodies and onto the sand.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThen another rumble, and the whole thing is over. The female\u2019s organs slide back into the sand with the steady grace of a ship sinking in calm seas.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe biologist reaches up to her communicator and then stops. One of the male\u2019s tentacles is extended towards her, crown flared and swaying gently. She can hear Big Blue\u2019s footsteps, a distant thud thud thud barely audible above the swelling of the sea. The other male is still now, airsac dirigible, vast and rippling in the wind. It stomps its leg and calls.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA few seconds later, Big Blue responds.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe biologist\u2019s communicator buzzes.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDid you hear that?\u201d says the documentarian. \u201cWhere are you?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOn the beach. There\u2019s another male.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh.\u201d Silence. And then, \u201cIs it big?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHuge.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHuge huge?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cColossal.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe turns off the communicator and begins to take notes. After a few moments she gives up and tosses her console aside and just watches as the beachmaster walks along the beach, vast and oblivious and beautiful beyond reason.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIt is nearly twilight by the time Big Blue arrives. The documentarian is not far behind, flustered and sweaty. He sits down beside her and fiddles silently with his console for a few minutes before looking up and saying, \u201cShit, that is huge.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe biologist doesn\u2019t say anything.<br \/>\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 go at it today?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI doubt it,\u201d she says. \u201cIt\u2019ll be night time soon and they\u2019ll want to rest.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cRight. Better set up camp then.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut no sooner has he said that than the beachmaster stomps the ground twice and let\u2019s rip a great bellowing cry. An instant later Big Blue steps out onto the beach, his body taut and flashing and tentacles flailing, and the ground rumbles with earthquake intensity under the clashing calls of the two males.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGuess I was wrong,\u201d says the biologist, clambering to her feet.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey ascend the hillside to a small ledge rimmed with fleshy black plants. The last light of the sun garish on the underside of the cloud cover.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat thing\u2019s huge,\u201d says the documentarian. \u201cLook at it.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHave faith,\u201d says the biologist.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBig Blue is heading towards the beachmaster at full tilt, body flashing firework-bright. But the beachmaster is responding in kind and his light is brighter and his bellowing louder. The documentarian smiles.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLook at him go,\u201d he says.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe two creatures exchange challenges for a few minutes and then abruptly cease. The biologist gets to her feet and fixes a pair of goggles to her eyes and says, \u201cThey\u2019re going to fight.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m getting it all.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cShit.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe two great beasts collide with a crunch that sends the sand on the beach billowing off in sheets. A great cloud of fluids exploding from each. They flail at each other with their tentacles and the humans three hundred meters away can feel every blow in their bones. Across the beach females\u2019 tentacles emerge from the sand with crowns of feelers extended.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBig Blue swings one giant appendage around and it crashes into the beachmaster\u2019s leg and sends the creature down onto its side. The documentarian and the biologist cheer. But then the next instant the beachmaster has wrapped his own feelers around Big Blue\u2019s leg and brought him crashing down to the sand too and with groaning effort brings himself back up onto all fours and extends his proboscis. Big Blue reaches for it but the beachmaster stomps on his flattening belly and sends his innards spilling out onto the beach, glimmering neon like celestial snakes released from long captivity. And then it plunges its proboscis deep into Big Blue\u2019s body, and again, and again, and holds it there until his foe stops struggling and twitching and the wind pauses for an instant and there is nothing but silence and the female\u2019s organs now perfectly still and the two humans on the hillside with their hands on their heads and their eyes full of tears.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFor a few minutes they sit in silence and then the biologist leans over to the documentarian and puts her arms around him and sobs.<br \/>\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 she says.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe documentarian hugs her back and puts his chin on her head and does not ask her why.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey spend part of the long night together in silence, wrapped up in each other and watching Big Blue\u2019s body turn dark. Then when the cold is too intense they part company for a while. But not long after she slips back into his tent and curls up next to him and says, \u201cI just don\u2019t want to be alone.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI know,\u201d he says.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDon\u2019t try anything.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI won\u2019t.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019ll kill you.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou already did.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAfter a few moments, she says \u201cI never meant to, you know.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI know.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI thought you hated me.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI don\u2019t hate you.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou did.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNever. Never ever.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s not normal.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe takes a deep breath and rolls over onto his back and closes his eyes.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNeither of us are normal.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey wake late the next day and eat in silence punctuated only by a brief smiles. He expects her to cry when she takes samples but she pins her hair back and dons her gloves and sets about her work with professional precision and does not stop until she has filled all of her receptacles. He remembers the first time her saw her like this and thinks how magnificent it is to see someone so utterly at one with what they do. And soon afterwards other thoughts follow and he decides it is time to leave.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis pod arrives first. Settling like a great smoking spider soon after Nafthalar\u2019s dazzling noon.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019d better get going,\u201d he says.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe nods.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe documentarian walks over the great carcass, so dull now in death, and wrestles the ring off his finger and tosses it into the great membranes hanging off the creature\u2019s side like layers of wet cloth. Then he comes up to her and she stiffens when he puts his arms on her shoulder and leans in. She moves away for an instant and then realizes what he is doing and lets him plant a single kiss on her cheek.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGood bye,\u201d he says. \u201cGood luck.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe turns to go.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHey,\u201d she calls after him.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt was good to see you too.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe frowns. \u201cYou don\u2019t have to lie.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo really. It was.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe nods. \u201cRight.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDo you suppose&#8230;they\u2019d, maybe, want to see me again?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThey\u2019d love to.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOK.\u201d She smiles at him. \u201cI\u2019ll send them a message.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThey\u2019ll be very happy.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe watches her for a few moments and then smiles and gives her a thumbs up.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAfter he is gone and the smoke from his pod has dissipated into an acrid miasma she orders her drone to start packing up and wanders down over to Big Blue\u2019s body. The sand yielding and rough between her toes. The creature\u2019s ozone aroma strong in her nostrils. She runs her fingers along one of its body flaps and leans in and presses her lips to its already cold hide.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGoodbye, old friend,\u201d she says.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd then, above, the sonic boom of her returning pod.<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"wanted\"><\/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>Wanted<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy Madeline Olsen<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAt fifteen, her heart got tired of wanting things. At least if you asked her to pinpoint when it all went down, that\u2019s what she\u2019d say. That year, Tad Gardner, Chance Philmont, and James Adams had dumped her, launching her into a string of hours spent locking the bathroom door and turning the sink up full-blast\u2014tricks she\u2019d inherited from ballet class. She\u2019d snapped the curdled-milk pearl necklace her mother gave her and thrown the rocks so hard they\u2019d plunked against the pink pastoral wallpaper in her living room like firing bullets. She\u2019d glued her lips together with Elmer\u2019s No Mess before school each morning and painted them jet. She\u2019d shaved the thinning hair patches from her head and declared juvenile emancipation and tattooed two crooked lines above each knuckle of her right hand. Why two? Why lines? Why the right hand? Well, why the hell not. She\u2019d blab about them representing something\u2014siblings, boyfriends, spiritual conversions\u2014later in life, as all good citizens with tattoos do, but, really, a crooked line is a crooked line. They didn\u2019t mean anything.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut to say three middle-school boys stopped a beating heart seems irrational. Impossible, even, considering only ten percent know how to zip their flies and the other ninety percent equate their waists with their knees\u2014pull up your pants, kid, please. In reality though, hope and wanting had begun to feel as dirty as kitchen sink water after a meat spaghetti dinner long before age fifteen. When did hoping, wanting ever do any good, really? As a child she\u2019d wanted a lot of little things\u2014soft caramel-chocolate bars suited in purple foil; the silver unicorn stuffed animal at that carnival; a ride on the cheetah at the zoo carousel. As she grew up she\u2019d wanted a lot of big things, abstract things like love and beauty and friendship and even book smarts from time to time. But she never got anything. Three boys dumped her in a year. Some brat in a beret cried until she gave up her seat on the cheetah.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSo when the doctor offered to remove her heart at age sixteen for a wad of cash, she said yeah, go for it. They took the bloody mass out and replaced it with some sort of metal cog thing\u2014she couldn\u2019t remember what it was called. And she hadn\u2019t wanted anything since. Until now, that is. Now, she wanted something. She wanted out of this damn shit-pot of a circular prison.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe looked at her pointer finger, bitten to chunks of skin and blood. She pressed it against the stone and slid down, almost missing the scrap of long French-tipped nails. Nine hundred slashes of red caked the wall. One hundred more remained to be drawn. Then she would leave this place.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA guard stalked past, and the slat in the glass door grated open. A bowl clambered toward her, bouncing when it smacked the cracks in the cement. She scrambled forward, scooped it into her lap, and dipped her finger into the grey puddle. The blood on her finger salted the mush, and for a minute she could almost force herself to think it tasted good, a kind of low-quality good, you know, like canned sardines or cheap dried kale. Her butterfly lungs beat and fluttered. She choked out a cough.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe stared out the windowed wall at the watchtower that grew from the center of the panopticon. They were watching; she was sure of it, even though she couldn\u2019t see them. God, they were always watching. They had probably watched her draw her mark on the wall and written it down\u2014silent notes kept in a little book of her behaviors. You couldn\u2019t get away with anything here. Her eyes glazed, blurring black rock and brown and windowpane, and she shoveled the grainy goop into her mouth, letting the liquid dribbles sting her chapped lips. When she got out of here, she was jetting to Paris and going to that pastry shop, that one in Marais with the lemon madeleines, warm as sunset and honey-buttered, and the mille feuilles that exploded chocolate and custard with each forkful\u2014if you had the patience and politeness to use a fork, that is. She couldn\u2019t remember the name of the place, but she\u2019d find it. And then she\u2019d sit at some restaurant, the priciest one around, and she\u2019d eat mutton so soaked in cream it melted at the touch of your tongue like a sixteen-year old school boy.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHer teeth sank down into a phantom mutton morsel, accidentally clamping onto her finger instead. She wrenched it out, coughed, and spat pink-tinted spit.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe shouldn\u2019t have killed him, she supposed. Then she wouldn\u2019t be trapped suffocating in a two by four half-glass box. But she\u2019d spent her life suffocated. She\u2019d gotten tired of that doctor stalking after her for the past ten years. He\u2019d taken out her heart, sure, but that didn\u2019t give him the right to monitor her every action. Lord, she couldn\u2019t even eat a jam sandwich without him noting her heart palpitations down in that damn yellow, blue-lined notepad. Pity he didn\u2019t note the speed of her heart when she imagined smashing his glasses into his face every night as he watched her sleeping. Maybe then that frown of surprise wouldn\u2019t have flashed on his face when she\u2019d finally lost it. And now, they\u2014the other doctors, the government, someone\u2014had thrown her in here as punishment. Because there\u2019s no better way to monitor your pet project than by throwing it in jail.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey were watching her now; she could feel the eyes piercing from the watchtower into her cell, into her body. She shook her head, crusted hair scratching her cheeks, and crawled into the corner as far from the tower as she could get. It didn\u2019t matter how she got into this place. It was just another mistake, just a mangled body. All that mattered was one hundred more days. She leaned her head back to rest against the wall as the dank air crept into her lungs. Her throat throttled out another cough.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHer eyes fell shut; her mind unleashed itself to indulge in imaginings. In one hundred days she\u2019d have a washing machine and a dryer and a queen-sized mattress and a toaster. In one hundred days she\u2019d lie in the sun and feel its heat bite into her translucent skin while she poured strawberry margaritas down her throat. In one hundred days she\u2019d walk into a fluorescent white-lit supermarket at midnight and she\u2019d buy a bag of cheese-coated corn chips and a bottle of diet cola. And some cough medicine. The thought tickled at the metal, machine-filled cavity in her chest. If she had a heart, it\u2019d be bloated with rushing blood and heat\u2014hope, if you\u2019d like to assign a word to the feeling.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe didn\u2019t have the strength to smash the feeling down, to wrap her fingers around it and squeeze until it smothered down into the usual dull emptiness, angst, and overall eye-rolling boredom. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling a leg span from her head, and she thought about calling to whatever deity sat around up there. Maybe if she said thanks for putting me in here, it\u2019d find a way to reduce her sentence. Maybe it\u2019d sweep down and gather her up and take her to the clouds. She laughed. She coughed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA scream raked her ears, sending prickling hot shivers down her arms. She crawled to the door and pressed her ear against the glass. Booted feet slapped against the floor outside on level two, the level below her cell. She couldn\u2019t see them. They could see her from their tower, but she couldn\u2019t see them. She could never see them. But she heard the scratch of coarse, swishing fabric\u2014guards, off to regulate the cause of the shout. The feet stopped.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh my god.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDo you . . . do you think? No, that\u2019s not possible. Nah. It couldn\u2019t be.\u201d<br \/>\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. Looks like it to me.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe voices dropped to a murmur, low and deep as a heartbeat. She pushed her cheek against the door and closed her eyes as if cutting off that worthless sense would improve her hearing. It didn\u2019t. But her ears snagged one word\u2014doctor. And then the boots shuffled away to some other side of the circle. A door slammed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe slunk back into the shadowed corner. She\u2019d known her fair share of doctors. When she was ten, she jumped from the top of the school monkey bars and crushed the edge of her foot. A doctor gave her crutches. When she was twelve, she danced on the top of a counter, slipped, and slit her jaw a pinkie fingertip deep. A doctor gave her stitches. And when she was sixteen, of course, a doctor cut out her heart. They\u2019d called it a miracle. Somebody could live with a machine for a heart, yet remain human in most of the other ways\u2014blood, nerves, broken bones. And maybe it was a miracle, though she hadn\u2019t done it to be called miraculous; she did it for the thousand-dollar cash reward advertised by a monotone-voiced man on the radio. They\u2019d wanted to manufacture more like her. Apparently machines last\u2014live\u2014longer than regular humans, and what\u2019s a successful society if not a close to immortal one? God was immortal. We should be too. They\u2019d failed though. She\u2019d heard that people had died seizuring during the operation\u2014the doctors couldn\u2019t figure out what it was about her metal heart that made it stick, that made it compatible with all the rest of her humanness.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA door slammed. Feet shuffled. A cough. She crawled to the window-door. A silence thick as rye bread flooded the air.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell, is it?\u201d a voice, a guard, asked.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe waited for the response, but heard nothing. The doctor was nodding, perhaps, or shaking his head.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh god.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe doctor had nodded, then. But about what?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh god, oh god. This, no, but, but, I thought? What\u2019s going to happen to us? What can we do about it?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNothing. We can\u2019t do anything about it,\u201d the doctor said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe ripped her head from the door and punched her knuckles into its surface. \u201cWhat the hell is going on out there? What can\u2019t we do anything about?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNo response. So they didn\u2019t think she deserved to know? Like hell was she going to accept silence. She kept punching, wrists crunching, popping with each hit. The glass shook, but held firm. The hall vibrated with echoes deep as tribal war drums as the other inmates, each trapped in their hovel windowed hells, joined her song.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA guard rounded the corner. She stood, meeting his heavy-lidded eyes.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cShut the hell up,\u201d he said, \u201cYou\u2019re causing problems. They saw you start this from the watchtower.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou shut the hell up. I wouldn\u2019t have yelled if I hadn\u2019t heard the panic below us. What\u2019s going on down there?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAn inmate died, that\u2019s all.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou seriously expect me to believe that shit? One of you guards was having a panic attack, and somebody went for a doctor. What was all that for?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI told you. An inmate died.\u201d The guard coughed. \u201cThat\u2019s all.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDied of what?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cPeople die here, that\u2019s the nature of the institution. I would\u2019ve thought you\u2019d been in that box long enough to figure that out by now.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah, I have been in this box long enough to figure that out. And I\u2019m getting out soon enough, too.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis chin tipped up as he laughed. He laughed and laughed and then coughed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat?\u201d<br \/>\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 one thing: you\u2019re not leaving.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou\u2019re not leaving.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut my sentence is up in one hundred days! You can\u2019t keep me here. By law you can\u2019t make me stay here.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe shook his head. \u201cYou\u2019re not leaving. I\u2019m not leaving. And we\u2019ll be long dried up dead by one hundred days.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe coughed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe nodded. \u201cLong dried up dead, I tell you. You think you\u2019re so invincible, so much better than the rest of us with that little machine heart, but in a few days that machine heart will be the only thing left of you. The cough\u2019s the beginning.\u201d<br \/>\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 what the hell you\u2019re talking about,\u201d she said. \u201cIs this about the inmate that died downstairs?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe nodded.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA pit knotted in her stomach, she tried coughing it out like a hairball, but nothing could dislodge the squeezing sensation. \u201cWhat did he die of? Are you going to tell me?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTuberculosis.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat blood coughing disease that all those artists died from? They have medicine for that these days.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNot for this strain. It broke out last week in a village thirty miles north of here, the one where we get our milk. It wiped away the place in three days. Drugs did nothing.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd now it\u2019s here,\u201d she said, her mouth dry as honey oat granola.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThey\u2019re putting the whole prison under quarantine. Nobody leaves or more of the world gets infected.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSo we\u2019re all just going to die here? You can\u2019t do that! You can\u2019t make me stay longer than one hundred days!\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI already told you that you\u2019ll be dead by then. You\u2019re infected already. I can hear it in your breath.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe swallowed gulps of air, fighting the pulsing cough creeping into her lungs. \u201cNo. I\u2019m getting out. I\u2019m getting out and going to Paris and eating pastries.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow do you think you\u2019re getting out?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019ll kill myself.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd we\u2019ll stop you. We\u2019ll see you.\u201d He pointed to the watchtower. \u201cYou never know when they\u2019re watching you, and so they\u2019re always watching you.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe stared at his steel grey eyes. \u201cDon\u2019t you want to get out? Don\u2019t you have a family to go home to? You\u2019ll never see them again.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe blinked. \u201cSometimes we must lose the weak to become strong.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe\u2019d never been the weak one before. Never. She\u2019d cut her heart out so that she would never be the weak one. Yet, here she was, stuck in a glass jail box. She looked up. \u201cAt least we\u2019ll die together, the jailed and the jailor. Sounds like karma to me. You\u2019ve heard the phrase. What goes around comes around.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMaybe. But at least I get a bed and three bowls of soup for dinner.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe turned and walked away, disappearing down the circle\u2019s edge. She coughed, and her hand swept to cover her mouth. She pulled her fingers away, staring at the bloodstained skeins of mucus coating her palm. And she knew that no amount of hope and wanting Parisian pastries could save her.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTwo men stepped over a body.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGod, it\u2019s creepy in here. There are skeletons everywhere. Are you sure it\u2019s safe? We\u2019re not going to catch anything?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s safe, I\u2019m sure.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe man looked at the watchtower. \u201cI feel like someone\u2019s watching us.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThey\u2019re all dead.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cFine. But let\u2019s get out of here as soon as we can. Where was her cell?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cListen.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe two men stopped. The stale air stank of mold and death. They listened. And then they heard it, the tick clink of a cog, a beating mechanical heart.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cUp there.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey walked up the stairs and entered one of the glass boxes. A skeleton rotted into the floor, a metal box wrapped in its ribcage. One of the men reached down and picked the contraption up.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHere it is. It\u2019s still good. We\u2019ll try putting it in someone else.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"grimoire\"><\/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>The Monk&#8217;s Grimoire<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy A.P. Miller<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe look on the Abbot\u2019s face was telling. \u201cCome in,\u201d he said. \u201cHurry up Flint, I haven\u2019t got all day.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint lingered in the doorway for a moment. He was not ready for another tongue-lashing from the old man. \u201cIs something the matter?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cClose the door behind you.\u201d The Abbot sat behind an ancient desk that gave the man a distinct aura of wisdom and authority.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSomething unpleasant was coming, that much was certain. The Abbot rarely called the adjuncts into his office, and this was the third time Flint had been summoned inside a month.  Flint pulled the door shut with trembling hands.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI think you already know why you\u2019re here,\u201d the Abbot said. His impassive eyes studied Flint. \u201cIt\u2019s the same problem we\u2019ve had since you started.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThe research,\u201d Flint said, looking down.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou need to produce something. I understand that you are busy teaching. But so are all of the monks. You need to find some balance between class and your research. We can\u2019t keep you on as an adjunct if you don\u2019t produce something original.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe words did not register immediately. Flint shook his head. \u201cCan\u2019t keep me on? You mean you\u2019re going to dismiss me?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI have no choice!\u201d the Abbot said. \u201cYou\u2019re a fine teacher, but this is a research monastery. How will it look if my monks are not broadening our knowledge of the occult?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut I\u2019m buried in work! You have me teaching more classes than any other monk by half. It\u2019s not that I don\u2019t want to study. I just don\u2019t have the time.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAre you telling me you can\u2019t do the job?\u201d The old man placed a heavy hand on his desk.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint\u2019s mouth hung open, and he waited for words to come out.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLook,\u201d the Abbot said. \u201cI\u2019m not unreasonable.\u201d He shifted in his seat, and his eyes filled with an uncharacteristic guile. \u201cI\u2019d be willing to give you some extra time, if you are willing to do me a favor. Brother Godfrey has been working on a side project for almost a year now.\u201d The Abbot sighed. \u201cA full year. And no one has any idea what he\u2019s actually doing.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019ve heard,\u201d Flint said, shrugging.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou and everyone else. But it\u2019s my responsibility to know, and that\u2019s the trouble. Brother Godfrey is brilliant, but he\u2019s stubborn as an ass. And he\u2019s tenured. He won\u2019t say a word. He wouldn\u2019t even tell me where he\u2019s working.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThat\u2019s the favor? You want me to find out where he\u2019s researching?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd what, if you can. Do that, and I\u2019ll give you a pass on your work for the next few months.\u201d The Abbot pointed a finger at Flint. \u201cBut listen. I don\u2019t want to hear about you breaking any rules, or using the occult to manipulate him. Do it right, or don\u2019t do it at all.\u201d The Abbot put his hand back on the desk. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you see if he\u2019ll take you on as his research assistant? That would put you right where you need to be.\u201d<br \/>\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 Flint said. \u201cHe\u2019s so secretive. Do you really think he would consider it?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGo find out,\u201d the Abbot said in a tone that told Flint the conversation was over.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint tried to hide his worry. He pulled open the door and stepped out into the empty corridor.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd Flint,\u201d the Abbot said. \u201cThis is the third time I\u2019ve had you in my office. This is your last chance.\u201d<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint looked through the open door and into Godfrey\u2019s lecture hall. Godfrey stood in front of a large body of students, where gray light filtered in through the windows and onto his brown robes.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGodfrey cleared his throat. \u201cNow, there are some things that divine studies have yet to achieve. Some of these things have not been achieved because they are physically impossible to accomplish. Others have not been adequately studied because they are beyond the pale. They are considered too dark or too dangerous. Some, here at the university, are afraid to push past these boundaries. But I am not one of them. Our next lecture will touch on one of these topics. I think you will find it enlightening.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint cocked his head to one side. Godfrey\u2019s cavalier attitude sat well on him, despite his scholarly appearance.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA young student, hardly old enough to grow a beard, raised his hand. \u201cBrother, aren\u2019t there some subjects that are best left untouched?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cPerhaps,\u201d Godfrey said, resting a hard look on the apprentice. \u201cBut those studies are well beyond the capabilities of first-year students.\u201d The school-bell\u2019s low chime echoed overhead, and Godfrey looked up. \u201cLooks like that will be all for today. Class dismissed.\u201d The students poured into the corridor, leaving Godfrey alone.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint strode past the empty desks. \u201cBrother Godfrey,\u201d he said as he approached. \u201cGood evening.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGodfrey wiped at the blackboard with a rag. \u201cEvening.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow goes the work?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGodfrey answered automatically. \u201cFine. Just fine.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe two stood in an uncomfortable silence.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGodfrey, I have a favor to ask.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGodfrey regarded Flint. \u201cA favor?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou probably don\u2019t know, but I\u2019ve been struggling with my research lately.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGodfrey scoffed. \u201cOf course I know. Everyone knows.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe comment caught Flint off-guard, and he recoiled behind a well-maintained facade. \u201cEveryone\u2026 Well, it\u2019s been difficult finding time to study when I\u2019m pulled in so many directions.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThen make time. Late nights. Weekends. Whatever you have to do. No one is going to hold your hand. I do most of my best work when the moon is out.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cActually, that\u2019s what I want to ask you. Would you be willing to let me work with you? I\u2019ve been dying to know what your project is all about.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGodfrey\u2019s face fell. \u201cDid the Abbot send you in here after me? I knew that fool would start prying sooner or later.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHe said that you might be willing to take me on as a research assistant. Help me get a foothold in some meaningful work.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTake you on as an informant, you mean. He\u2019s trying to find out what I\u2019m onto, isn\u2019t he?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGodfrey, please. I\u2019m already up every night grading. The Abbot is going to fire me if I don\u2019t deliver something soon.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGodfrey scowled. \u201cSorry,\u201d he said. \u201cMy work is too sensitive. You\u2019ll have to make do on your own.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHope melted from Flint, and he left to wander the corridors.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m not surprised,\u201d Gloria said. She moved her leather schoolbag to the ground, and Flint set his plate in its place. \u201cHe\u2019s never been particularly pleasant.\u201d Gloria spooned up the last of her dinner. \u201cAnd he\u2019s always been strange, too. Especially when it comes to his work.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint slammed a fist on the table. \u201cHe\u2019s paranoid, that\u2019s what he is! He was so preoccupied thinking about the Abbot that he didn\u2019t even listen to what I was asking him.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGloria\u2019s spoon stopped halfway to her mouth, and she glanced around the dining hall. The students at the table next to them looked startled. She nodded to appease them. \u201cTake it easy,\u201d she said. \u201cYou\u2019ll figure something out.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint shook his head. \u201cYou don\u2019t understand. I have nothing outside of the Priory. Nothing. I\u2019ll be on the streets if I lose my job here. Out on Beggars\u2019 Row next to the drunks, shaking a cup at you when you walk to work in the mornings.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGloria\u2019s quiet lasted too long.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat?\u201d Flint said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe looked around and said, \u201cDon\u2019t be obtuse. You know you won\u2019t be on the streets. But I wouldn\u2019t be walking by you anyway. I\u2019m leaving the Priory soon. That\u2019s why I can\u2019t help you. I\u2019m going to tell the Abbot tomorrow.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint\u2019s face was placid, though a storm brewed behind his eyes. He looked at Gloria with the intensity of a brokenhearted man. \u201cLeaving? But why? I thought you were happy here. You\u2019ve only just earned your tenure.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s this place, Flint,\u201d Gloria said. \u201cThese people. Every one of them is pretentious. They think they\u2019re better than the rest of the world because of their studies. I need a real experience. Something outside of these walls.\u201d She set her lovely hand on Flint\u2019s.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe pace of Flint\u2019s heart quickened. He looked down at her hand, then at her face.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI want you to come with me,\u201d she said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint shook his head in dismay. \u201cI\u2026 I can\u2019t.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGloria withdrew.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI can make something of myself here,\u201d Flint said. \u201cYou can make something of yourself here. I know it\u2019s not perfect, but there is so much to experience here. The longer I study, the more I realize that we know almost nothing about the occult. You and I can explore it all together.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe summons bell rung for evening class. \u201cI have to go,\u201d Gloria said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint watched the flow of her long hair as she walked away. He sat at the table, brooding, until his food was cold. After a time, he shook his head and pushed his chair back.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA familiar brown bag lay under the table.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint picked it up, and looked inside to confirm that it belonged to Gloria. Her lecture notes, her quills, and her small key ring hid inside.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe left the dining hall for his dormitory with the bag under his arm, winding through the eastern wing where a disused entryway let in the cold.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGodfrey stood in the half-open door. He carried a small pack full of travel supplies and was wrapped in a mass of heavy cloaks to ward off the cold. He tried to leave before Flint could interrupt him.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOut for the night?\u201d Flint said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGoing to visit my daughter in town. I\u2019ll be back before class tomorrow.\u201d He pulled a hood over his head.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAny chance you\u2019d reconsider what we talked about earlier?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGodfrey disappeared into the snowy night, leaving the door open behind him.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint ran his fingers over Gloria\u2019s bag. A key to the tenured monks\u2019 common room rested inside \u2013 the common room attached to Godfrey\u2019s private chambers. Flint lingered at the door for a time, as if struggling with a decision, then reached in the bag and removed the key.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe key slid home, and Flint peeked around the edge of the common room door. The fireplace offered the only light, but it was enough to show that the room was empty. All of the senior monks had retired to their rooms. Flint crept in, keeping to the shadowy corners where he might be able to disappear should someone interrupt him.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGodfrey\u2019s private chambers were on the far side of the common area, opposite a tidy circle of leather armchairs and writing desks.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint slunk past a closed door, wincing when the wood floor groaned under his weight.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSomeone stirred behind the heavy oak. The handle rattled, and the door swung open, hiding Flint from whoever stood on the other side.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint\u2019s breath caught in his throat, and he froze.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe fat, dark-skinned monk who lumbered out could only have been Brother Harken. Harken threw the door shut without a backward glance and strode across the room. He picked up a stack of parchment from one of the desks and sat at the fireplace with his back to Flint.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint waited until the man had shut out the world around him, dragging his round fingers across lines of scrawling text and murmuring to himself. Flint inched along the perimeter, stopping short every time the man moved to turn a page or tend to the fire.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis hand found Godfrey\u2019s doorknob, but it hung against the lock. Flint squeezed the brass and narrowed his eyes, concentrating on something far away and unseen.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut nothing happened. Flint glanced down at his hands, puzzled, as if he had expected a reaction. He closed his eyes and tried again. A mass of black magic laced in wisps of purple smoke enclosed Flint\u2019s hand. The lock\u2019s tumblers fell into place with a terrifying click. Flint dared a glance over his shoulder to see if the sound caught Harken\u2019s attention, but it was lost in the crack and pop of the fire.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint pulled the door open gingerly, but the hinges screamed. He slipped through the narrow aperture and passed out of sight behind it.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGodfrey\u2019s room was lit only by a sliver of firelight and the moon behind the snow. \u201cI thought you were going into town for the night,\u201d Harken said from the other side of the door.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMe?\u201d The Abbot was in the common room, not twenty feet away from Flint.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGood evening, Abbot. Gloria,\u201d Harken said. \u201cNo, not you. I just heard Godfrey at his door. I think he\u2019s in there, anyway.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cStrange,\u201d Gloria said. \u201cI saw him leaving just a little while ago.\u201d Her soft footsteps echoed across the common room, drawing nearer to Godfrey\u2019s room. \u201cGodfrey? Knock, knock.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint could not find the mindfulness to hide, and he stood in the middle of the room like a fool when Gloria put her head inside. Their eyes met and Flint shook his head, putting a finger over his lips before she could speak.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHe in there?\u201d the Abbot said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGloria hesitated. \u201cNo\u2026No. He\u2019s not here.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell someone opened the door,\u201d Harken said, and he heaved himself out of his chair to investigate.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHide!\u201d Gloria mouthed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint dropped to the ground and crawled like a spider under the bed. Cold air rose from the cracks between floorboards. His fingertips brushed over a small metal ring resting flush in the wood. When he lifted it, the square outline of an enchanted trapdoor cut into the floor, and a whisper of sawdust fell through to a hollow place beneath.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint pulled, and the hatch opened. The unfinished wood dug splinters into his back as he scraped through. Godfrey\u2019s room brightened, and Flint saw feet shuffle inside. He lowered the hatch over the top of himself, taking refuge in the dark once more.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint sat at the top of a dust-covered stair, wedged between the trap door and steps that dropped out of sight into black emptiness an impossible distance below. The monks\u2019 muffled voices quieted and eventually disappeared from Godfrey\u2019s room.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint pushed on the trapdoor, but it would not budge. He groped at the wood above his head, searching for its edges, but he found only unbroken slats. The magic had faded, and the door was gone.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nApprentices spoke of the undercroft in whispers and the monks not at all. The disused basements were a remnant of the Priory\u2019s earlier and more wicked days. It was a bad chance that Flint\u2019s escape was through one of the fabled long-forgotten doors.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe held up a hand, trying to will forth a glow of ethereal light, but none would come. Flint looked at his palms. Down into the darkness was his only option. He descended thousands of steps, running a hand along the wall\u2019s sharp masonry to keep his bearings until his feet found a packed earthen floor. He wandered aimlessly in the darkness for an age, languishing in the fear that time would kill him if he could not find his way.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe air cleared and grew colder in the depths. The dark lessened, and water lapped against a shore somewhere ahead. Flint\u2019s breaths came in short white plumes as he emerged into a man-made cavern.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe gazed up at a vaulted ceiling rich with stalactites. Ahead, a saltwater canal disappeared into a winding crevasse of wet bedrock. Small waves broke against a pier that jutted from the embankment where he stood. A dingy grimoire bound in engraved leather rested between sheaves of heavily-inked parchment on a workbench further down, illuminated by a dying brazier.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCuriosity overcame his baser instincts, and Flint moved to examine it. He lifted a piece of parchment and began to read private research notes written in Godfrey\u2019s untidy script. Flint lost all account of time as he poured through them, and the cold and damp crept under his clothes.<br \/>\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 you are doing?\u201d Godfrey said from the darkness.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint jumped and dropped the parchment in the dirt. He spun around. A rowboat bobbed in the canal behind Godfrey. He glared at Flint. \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d Flint said. \u201cI was just curious.\u201d<br \/>\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 down here?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI accidentally found a way into the undercroft. I got lost. Wound up here.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAccidentally? And you came down here and thought you would just read my private notes.\u201d Godfrey stepped forward. \u201cFind anything interesting?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI see why you won\u2019t let anybody know what you\u2019re onto.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGodfrey scowled. \u201cThey wouldn\u2019t understand. Not a single one of them. Bunch of self-serving swine.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThis grimoire affects the roots of the occult, doesn\u2019t it?\u201d Flint put his hand on its leather, feeling the power within. \u201cThe deepest parts of it. It can destroy our power altogether if you want it to. I\u2019ve felt it already. I was lost just now because I couldn\u2019t make light.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s a single incantation, but terribly long and complex,\u201d Godfrey said. \u201cI don\u2019t believe anything like it has ever been attempted. But you\u2019re wrong. I don\u2019t mean destroy anything. Quite the contrary in fact. I just want to harness the foundations of the occult. Center it on this book.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhy?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGodfrey\u2019s laugh was edged with madness. \u201cBecause I need hope. I need the power to change things I can\u2019t otherwise change.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHope for what?\u201d Flint said. \u201cGodfrey, you have to stop. What if something goes wrong? The power you\u2019re talking about is\u2026dangerous.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMy child is sick. My daughter. She\u2019s, sick and no medicine can help. But I can save her, Flint. I can change the course of fate with this. It\u2019s almost finished. Almost.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint watched the man shrink from boldness to desperation. Godfrey\u2019s secret was a heavy burden. He looked older than he had, sallower and more worn.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAre you going to tell the Abbot?\u201d Godfrey said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint narrowed his eyes. \u201cWhat will you do after you heal your daughter?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGodfrey raised his hands. \u201cLock it away. Show the Priory what I\u2019ve created and what miracles can be done with it.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe decision was more difficult than any Flint had faced. He rubbed his black beard. \u201cI can give you a week. But I have to be the one to tell the Abbot what you\u2019ve been working on. And this is too dangerous for me to just walk away from. You need to take me on as your assistant.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDone,\u201d Godfrey said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe men moved to the workbench to discuss the course of things to come.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nArctic currents swirled in the ocean, carrying opaque-blue glaciers dusted in white.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint\u2019s glazed eyes watched them through the glass of his dormitory window. Godfrey was still a hundred fathoms below where the water met the base of the Priory Cliffs, writing in the grimoire. It would be ready tonight.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSomeone knocked on the door. \u201cFlint? It\u2019s me,\u201d Gloria said through the wood.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint opened it.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMay I come in?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint tried to smile and stepped aside. \u201cOf course.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGloria took Flint\u2019s place by the window. She turned, and her dark eyes cut through him. \u201cWhat were you doing last night?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou already know,\u201d Flint said. \u201cI was trying to figure out what Godfrey is up to.\u201d<br \/>\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 inside anyway?\u201d Gloria chewed on her lip. \u201cThe common room door is hexed. It\u2019s impossible to open without that key.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou left your bag in the dining hall last night.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou have it? I\u2019ve been looking everywhere.\u201d Gloria glared at Flint. \u201cWait, you mean you used my key to get in?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry Gloria. I know it was wrong, but I was desperate.\u201d Flint looked down at the woven carpet beneath his feet. It bore the image of a whaling ship being torn asunder by a leviathan. \u201cGodfrey came around. He\u2019s taking me on as his research assistant.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGloria\u2019s brow furrowed. \u201cHe changed his mind just like that?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSort of.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGloria turned back to the window and said nothing for a long while. \u201cHow did you get out of there anyway? I waited for you in the common room all night.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint put his arms around Gloria, and her hands found his. He told her everything.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut,\u201d Gloria said. \u201cGodfrey\u2019s daughter died last year.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint recoiled. \u201cWhat?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHer boat overturned in a storm. They found her body under the ice the next morning.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHe must have another daughter then.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGloria shook her head. \u201cShe was his only child. Flint, what Godfrey is trying to do can\u2019t be done safely. He\u2019s manipulating the fabric of the occult. We have to tell the Abbot.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDo you think he wants to\u2026 bring her back?\u201d<br \/>\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. But this sort of thing has been tried before, and people have been killed.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe worry on Gloria\u2019s face convinced Flint in the end, and they walked hand-in-hand to find the Abbot.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe Abbot walked across the Priory\u2019s courtyard, taking in the sharp late-afternoon air. A fresh crop of snow flurries lit upon the overgrown whiskers that pushed out from under his hood.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint watched the Abbot from the foyer. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you stay here? I can tell him by myself.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAre you sure?\u201d Gloria said.<br \/>\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 you to get caught up in this if he doesn\u2019t take it well.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAll right. I\u2019ll be here. Good luck.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint buttoned his cloak and went out into the cold. \u201cAbbot!\u201d he said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe Abbot scowled when Flint admitted to trespassing in Godfrey\u2019s quarters, and the bitterness stayed on his face until the story was finished. \u201cFlint,\u201d the Abbot said. \u201cI warned you not to break the rules. And now you\u2019re telling me that you stole another professor\u2019s key, then used a forbidden incantation to trespass in another\u2019s private chambers?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAbbot, Godfrey\u2026\u201d Flint said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe are not talking about Godfrey. We are talking about you.\u201d The Abbot brushed a pile of snow from his wiry beard. \u201cThat man has been an institution at the Priory for almost twenty years. You, on the other hand, can\u2019t even keep yourself from breaking the law!\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut I\u2026\u201c<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThis is it for you Flint. You\u2019re finished. I won\u2019t keep you here any longer.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cFine.\u201d Flint\u2019s face flushed, and he raised his chin. \u201cBut you\u2019re wrong. You have to listen to me.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe Abbot\u2019s eyes turned black. \u201cI don\u2019t have to do anything.\u201d His voice grew not in volume but in presence, delivered with the power of his station. \u201cI will not be ordered around. And certainly not by an outcast.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint saw nothing but the void of the Abbot\u2019s eyes. He shrunk from the glare and fell backwards into the snow. His voice trembled. \u201cWe have to do something. You have to do something.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cRoderick, Isabelle.\u201d The Abbot beckoned to a pair of monks crossing the courtyard. \u201cI need your assistance. Please escort Flint to his dormitory so he can collect his belongings. Then show him off of the Priory grounds. He has been dismissed.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut\u2026\u201d Flint said, but the Abbot turned his back.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe monks looked at each other, then at Flint. \u201cWhat happened?\u201d Isabelle said after the Abbot had walked out of earshot.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe had to get to Godfrey. Flint climbed to his feet and began to walk toward the Priory, looking up at its time-worn spires and stained glass. \u201cNothing,\u201d he said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGloria shot Flint a questioning look when the trio passed through the door.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019ve been dismissed,\u201d he said to her. \u201cThe Abbot doesn\u2019t believe me.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGloria considered Roderick and Isabelle. \u201cWhat are you going to do?\u201d she asked Flint.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m going after Godfrey.\u201d Flint took a breath and clapped his hands.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe sound shook the room, reverberating in his chest like a violent clap of thunder. Sooty black smoke poured into being and Flint was blinded. He staggered through the clouds, searching for an exit. Gloria coughed close by, but Flint ignored her. The smoke cleared near the edge of the room and Flint ran, pulling the common room key from his pocket.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGodfrey read the grimoire by the brazier\u2019s smoldering light. He flipped through its pages with increasing speed, chanting the inscriptions without pause for breath. The fire ebbed and flowed with his words. Sparks spit forth in gouts of red and turned to ash in the cold water nearby. An endless torrent of occult energy flowed into the grimoire, black and hazy.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint saw it when he ran across the wharf. A coffin, black and still nailed shut, near the brazier. \u201cGodfrey!\u201d Flint said. \u201cStop! This is madness!\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut Godfrey turned the final page and snapped together the grimoire\u2019s heavy covers. He hugged the book in his arms and raised his eyebrows. \u201cWhy? Why is it so mad to want to be with the one you love?\u201d he said. \u201cDoesn\u2019t every man want the same? I\u2019d wager you\u2019d give much to keep Gloria at the Priory.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint faltered. \u201cBut this is unnatural.\u201d Flint\u2019s face faded further with a profound realization. \u201cAt this moment, nobody in the world can manipulate the occult but you.\u201d He lifted his hands, as if to prove himself incapable.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cA small cost. Perhaps things will return to the way they were. Perhaps not. At least I\u2019ll have my girl.\u201d Godfrey face was wet with tears. He turned to the painted box and raised a hand.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGodfrey, I\u2019m trying to help you,\u201d Flint said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe grimoire shook in Godfrey\u2019s arm and the space between his hand and the coffin disappeared in black fog.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint lunged at Godfrey, clawing at the book, but Godfrey had already turned around. Something heavy flew from his hand collided with Flint\u2019s chest.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint\u2019s ribs cracked, and he flew backwards into the canal. Water flooded over him. Flint struggled to find the surface, beating at the water before his saturated cloak could pull him further down. His hand landed on the pier and he pulled himself to the embankment, coughing and retching from the pain in his side. He peered over the stony edge.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGodfrey stood over the coffin. Something inside it moved.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGodfrey?\u201d Gloria said from the far entryway. \u201cAre you all right?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOf course,\u201d Godfrey smiled.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint crept across the wharf, low and silent. He winced with each step. Splintered ribs grated against each other and he almost cried out.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d Gloria said, locking eyes with Godfrey.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cJust finishing my project,\u201d Godfrey said. \u201cI\u2019m think I\u2019m\u2026.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint pulled the grimoire from Godfrey\u2019s grasp. Godfrey spun on his heels, his face shining bright with panic and rage. He raised his hand, poised to murder. But nothing happened.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe grimoire was heavy in Flint\u2019s arms. Heavier than it should have been. Flint looked at Godfrey and pitched it into the brazier.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo!\u201d Godfrey said, scrambling for the hot coals. Flint used the last of his strength to shoulder him aside and they fell together to the ground.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe grimoire burned to ash before Godfrey found his feet.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe Abbot went to his office when he learned what had happened, and he barred the door. Days and weeks passed before anyone saw his face again.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFlint scratched a piece of gypsum across the blackboard. The classroom glowed from the sun on the snow outside. \u201cAs you know, the longer an incantation is, the more powerful. Or was, rather.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA student raised her hand. \u201cWhy should we bother with this anymore? We can\u2019t do anything with it.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo, at this moment we can\u2019t. But we have to preserve our knowledge. What if the power of the occult returns in a hundred years?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe bell chimed a somber tone in the towers far above.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cRight. Well, that\u2019s it then. We\u2019ll pick back up tomorrow.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe students left the classroom, and Flint leaned to tidy the lectern. His hand shot to his side where the ribs had broken. When he was able to straighten himself out again, he found the Abbot standing in the doorway. \u201cAbbot,\u201d Flint said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe Abbot looked his age, though more sorrowful than most old men. \u201cI should have listened,\u201d he said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou couldn\u2019t have known,\u201d Flint said.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m glad you didn\u2019t leave. I just wanted to tell you. And that I was wrong.\u201d His head fell.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThank you. But Gloria left a few weeks ago and I\u2019m going with her. I\u2019ve already begun to pack my things.\u201d Flint drew the sun-faded curtains, darkening the room. \u201cI\u2019ve found that\u2026 there is more to life than this.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThe Priory will close. There is no hope for us here.\u201d The Abbot slouched against the doorframe.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cThere is always hope. Some things have funny ways of healing themselves. Just give it time.\u201d A translucent wisp of light in Flint\u2019s hand illuminated his smile.<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"willingly\"><\/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>Willingly and with Joy<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy Lynn Rushlau<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWaves smashed into boulders strewn like a giant&#8217;s bread crumbs in front of the seawall. Caught by the setting sun, the spray glittered gold as it was cast into the air and fell in drops of citrine. Zeninna laughed and raised her arms to catch the wild energy. Wind tangled her unbound black hair and billowed her clothes. Though the wind tried, the gusts lacked the strength to knock her from her perch on the seawall.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I did it, you old hags! I got in!&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe roar of wind and angry waves along Landis&#8217; empty seawall gave Zeninna the courage to yell her triumph to the sea. She pealed with laughter, delighted with her success.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe&#8217;d sworn she could. Stood up before the Iridescent Court and scoffed at those who mocked her as too young, too wild, too loud. Unruly as the sea in storm, her own mother screeched at her. Zeninna&#8217;s supporters begged her to keep her temper leashed. She hadn&#8217;t. She couldn&#8217;t. The old hags made her too angry. But she won the right to try.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd she&#8217;d succeeded. She pressed her hand over her heart and felt the papers stashed inside her coat crinkle. Her acceptance papers. Tomorrow morning, she would enter the Great Library of Cerulea as an Acolyte.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I did it!&#8221; She screamed once more into the wind and waves.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA dark shape popped out of the water between two of the boulders. Zeninna&#8217;s heart stopped as a wave crashed over the rocks. Had she just seen&#8230;? Ahead of the next wave, her cousin Viridis hopped half out of the water onto a bowl in the rock.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShock held Zeninna momentarily speechless. She&#8217;d spent too long around well-fed, healthy humans. Viridis looked green and positively skeletal.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Are you crazy?&#8221; Zeninna looked wildly up and down the seawall. Relief tempered her outrage. Viridis, not her best friend Perseah. Perseah was safe at home.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I would hope you wouldn&#8217;t be screaming at the top of your lungs if there were humans in the vicinity to hear.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;That they can&#8217;t hear over the wind and waves doesn&#8217;t mean they can&#8217;t see you from a window.&#8221; Zeninna gestured wildly at the town behind her.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nViridis smirked. &#8220;Human sight isn&#8217;t that good. I&#8217;ll take your message to the Court. How long before they should expect you?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nScreaming reminders at herself not to give Viridis reason to suspect anything, Zeninna forced herself to take a deep breath. Her mind rocketed about and found the perfect way to spin the answer. &#8220;I&#8217;ll know better after Orientation tomorrow.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Should I meet you here at dusk then?&#8221; Viridis raised her eyebrows.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nZeninna frowned. It wasn&#8217;t like Viridis to offer to play messenger. She shook her head. &#8220;You can come. I can&#8217;t promise I&#8217;ll be able to get away.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nViridis narrowed her eyes. &#8220;Don&#8217;t forget the importance of your mission.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFury propelled Zeninna off the wall. Imbecile! Viridis couldn&#8217;t possibly understand the importance of Zeninna&#8217;s mission to the Irides! Viridis only knew the Court&#8217;s version of the task, not the actual plan. The gall of her brainless cousin to attempt to remind her what was at stake! Whipping back around, Zeninna sneered at Viridis. &#8220;I will not forget. Now I must go. I&#8217;ll be missed.&#8221;<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nZeninna knew herself to be less rash than the Iridescent Court labeled her. She understood that Orientation would not be the time to even attempt her mission. Her duty might be at the back of her mind at all times, but today she pretended that she simply was another acolyte with dreams of becoming a librarian or curator or even director of the Library.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSo she listened to the welcoming speeches, what was expected, where they&#8217;d live, what their days would be like. She introduced herself to her roommates&#8211;not one too thin from years of sickness or malnutrition&#8211;and gave them a vague location up the northwest coast as her home. That area of Cerulea was scarcely populated, which should keep anyone here from knowing enough to catch her in a lie and explain any lack of knowledge of custom on her part.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nPlus the Iridescent Court was northwest of here.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHer five roommates seemed wholly enraptured in their acceptance into the Library. The human children shouldn&#8217;t cause Zeninna any problems, which was good because their junior advisor looked ready to.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe suspicious stare Adlai gave Zeninna when they met sent a shiver down Zeninna&#8217;s spine. Was Adlai Sighted? Few people in Cerulea were these days, but few meant few, not no one.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCephalo of the Deep couldn&#8217;t be so cruel as to give Zeninna a Sighted junior advisor. She must want Zeninna&#8217;s mission to succeed. Hadn&#8217;t the Irides Nixies suffered enough? Didn&#8217;t that suffering affect their Goddess?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nZeninna&#8217;s entire point of being here was to fulfill a promise to Cephalo of the Deep. Over the last months, the Irides made significant offerings and their priestesses prayed nonstop. Such great displays of worship should have Cephalo inclined to help not hinder.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nZeninna closed her eyes briefly and offered a quick, silent prayer, a plea, that none of the humans would guess what she was. Most humans refused to accept any of the other peoples of the world as people. She&#8217;d be lucky to not end up in a zoo if they caught her. Though that imprisonment might be better than being hunted for sport. At least there&#8217;d be the possibility of escape. She opened her eyes to find Adlai staring at her with a raised eyebrow. Adlai looked away as she moved on to her next topic.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe instructions and expectations dragged on half the morning. Zeninna&#8217;s stomach growled long before Adlai escorted them to lunch. Not that hunger interfered with her ability to listen. She was used to being hungry.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLunch amazed her. An oyster soup, ten times more delicious than any Zeninna had ever eaten at home. She couldn&#8217;t understand how this was possible. Wouldn&#8217;t all oysters come from the same sickened sea? Still she took hope from the soup, took it as an omen that she would succeed. That health for the sea would be found here on land.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAfter lunch, they entered the Hall of Enlightenment. Adlai swept them past the guards with their salamander-sniffers, past the check-in desks, straight to the rotunda where floors and floors of bookshelves encircled them. All the way up to the dome six stories overhead. Zeninna gaped with her classmates at the vivid painted story of how writing and stories were given to humans.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSpecial collections and archives filled the first floor. Staircases behind locked doors led to the stacks in the basement. New acolytes had no need of either.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAdlai led them to the map carved on a stone that squatted at the top of the stairs on the second floor. She walked them through the map, before leading them on a tour, pointing out the sections they&#8217;d need for most of their assignments at this stage in their learning.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy sunset, Zeninna&#8217;s feet screamed with pain. They&#8217;d wandered through countless wings and almost every floor of the Hall of Enlightenment. Seen many human treasures, sacred texts, rare books, even scrolls from the founding of the kingdom. And gone to no other buildings. Come nowhere near the one that held the Magnificence of the Sea exhibit.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nZeninna sat with her chattering, excited roommates, but ate her dinner in silence. She glanced at the windows set high in the walls of the hall. The world was dusky blue. She&#8217;d missed her rendezvous with Viridis, not that she&#8217;d ever planned to make it. She picked the fish out of the flatbread and smiled at Linden, her tallest roommate, who regaled them with a tale of her village school. Linden laughed, throwing back her head and putting Adlai in Zeninna&#8217;s line of sight.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFrom the next table, Adlai stared at Zeninna, a perplexed little frown wrinkling her brow.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nZeninna smiled. She couldn&#8217;t think what else to do.  Turning her attention to her blond roommate Teddy, she stabbed a piece of fish with her fork. Teddy gushed about something they&#8217;d seen today. Zeninna missed what, but she swallowed and muttered her agreement. It didn&#8217;t matter what Teddy was thrilled about. The others thought everything here was wonderful, so Zeninna agreed.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA couple of hours before dawn, Zeninna woke. She crept to the washroom and back without anyone else waking. She&#8217;d planned to try this in a few days, but she was awake now. And no one else was.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe only knew the way through maps. A week, a month from now, that might still be the case. Nothing outlined yesterday included visiting the Magnificence of the Sea. Zeninna hovered in the doorway. She could feel where she needed to go. The Peral Dagger sang to her. Why waste another two or three days here if she could go now?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhy deprive her people of their most holy artifact for even two more hours? Decades had passed since the dagger was stolen by one of their own to impress a human she thought would keep her as a lover. The seas had sickened slowly as the nixies failed to offer the sacrifice to usher in the new year. The execution of the traitor&#8217;s lover had been a rejected by Cephalo of the Deep, as had every offering without the dagger since.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe slipped into the hall. The door closed without a sound. She tiptoed through the dark corridor of closed doors. At the staircase, a shiver ran down her spine. Zeninna spun. Adlai stared at her from three doors back.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe jumped&#8211;and regretted that immediately, but couldn&#8217;t have helped it. How did Adlai move without a sound?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nZeninna plastered her biggest smile on her face. &#8220;Adlai! Good morning.&#8221;<br \/>\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 really morning. It&#8217;s still dark.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nZeninna faked a big sigh, rolled her eyes, and walked closer to Adlai. &#8220;I think it&#8217;s morning back at home though. I&#8217;ve woken way before everyone every morning since I got to Landis. I thought I&#8217;d go down to the social room. Didn&#8217;t want to wake anyone.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe deliberately looked Adlai up and down, pretending to notice her junior advisor&#8217;s robe and nightshirt. Zeninna dropped a hand over mouth. &#8220;Did I wake you? I was trying to be so quiet!&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAdlai shook her head. &#8220;You should go back to your dorm room. If you can&#8217;t sleep, rest until it&#8217;s time to wake.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Oh. Okay.&#8221; Zeninna hoped her frustration remained hidden. Talk about boring. Why would she want to lay on her bed and stare at a ceiling she couldn&#8217;t see? She allowed herself to drag her feet on the way back to her room.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAt her door, she looked back down the hall. Adlai remained outside hers. Zeninna gave her junior advisor a bright smile and entered the room. She&#8217;d obey thus far, but had no intention of wasting the next two hours doing nothing. Trying not to rustle a piece of paper, she collected all her handouts about the Library.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBy the time her roommates stirred, Zeninna had a new plan.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAn hour after lunch, the new acolytes gathered in study hall. They&#8217;d been given several short papers to write, a page each on topics related to their morning lectures.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nZeninna sat with her roommates and wrote her first paper. She slid the finished paper into the folder she&#8217;d been given for completed assignments and drew out a fresh page. A look around confirmed her study of the map correct. No washroom inside the study hall itself.<br \/>\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 wrong?&#8221; Linden asked.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I could use a washroom.&#8221; Zeninna strained to see the far corners of the room, where no washroom materialized to ruin her plan.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Think there&#8217;s one just down the hall outside,&#8221; Teddy offered.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe hall supervisors let her leave without displaying any suspicion. Zeninna took an immediate left and trotted off down the hall, head swinging back and forth as if she searched for the sign for a washroom. At the corner, she took another left and zigzagged her way towards the stairs. She turned another corner and came face to face with a Scholar.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Acolyte! What are you doing down here?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHoping her fury didn&#8217;t show on her face, Zeninna looked right and left. &#8220;They told me in study hall I could find a washroom around here. Somewhere? This way?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe Scholar smiled. &#8220;Oh, you missed a turn. Come this way. I&#8217;ll show you.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe escorted Zeninna to the washroom and remained outside waiting when Zeninna exited. Zeninna smiled and pointed back the way she&#8217;d come. &#8220;This way, no?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe scholar nodded and smiled. Zeninna thanked her and headed back to the hall. She rounded the last corner.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Where have you been?&#8221; Adlai hissed as she stormed down the hall.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I needed the washroom.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;You&#8217;ve been gone forever!&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I got a little lost.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Lost?&#8221; Adlai raised an eyebrow.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nZeninna sighed dramatically. &#8220;I know those who work in the Library have to be able to navigate it without getting lost, but this is the first time I&#8217;ve been in this building. I didn&#8217;t study the maps for this area.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAdlai rolled her eyes. &#8220;Go finish your work.&#8221;<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFor five days, Zeninna pretended to be an Acolyte. She read books, wrote short essays, and studied maps. Her roommates teased that her dedication made them look bad. But five days in their company was five days too long. Every last one of her roommates thought Zeninna odd. It would only get worse.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnd then there was Adlai.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nZeninna caught the junior advisor staring at her at least ten times a day. Adlai watched her when she ate, when she studied. She couldn&#8217;t set foot outside her dorm room without Adlai popping out to see what she wanted.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nZeninna couldn&#8217;t slip out in the night. She couldn&#8217;t escape during the day. Even if she could, the mission would be completely impossible by daylight. She couldn&#8217;t do anything while the Library was open. Not with people everywhere. Docents, Curates, Librarians and Archivists all going about their jobs, not to mention the hundreds of visitors the Library saw on a daily basis. She blushed to remember her attempt to sneak out during study hall. What had she thought to do?<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBut none of that mattered. She&#8217;d worked out a solid plan over these last five days.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey had clam chowder for dinner. Zeninna picked at it, though the chowder was much better than the land animal dishes they&#8217;d served the past two nights&#8211;or any of the thin soups they&#8217;d have at home. She wished she didn&#8217;t have to pretend to be sick tonight, but food wasn&#8217;t incentive enough to change her plans.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOf course, Adlai noticed, but this time Zeninna meant her to. &#8220;Is something wrong with your dinner?&#8221;<br \/>\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 feel very well. I&#8217;m kind of queasy.&#8221; Zeninna listlessly twirled her spoon around the bowl.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAdlai frowned. &#8220;Do you need the nurse?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Maybe.&#8221; Zeninna frowned and set the spoon aside. &#8220;That might be a good idea.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Come on. I&#8217;ll escort you.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey walked out of the dining hall, left the building and crossed a courtyard with a fountain of leaping dolphins to a building on the other side of the auditorium.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Through here.&#8221; Adlai opened a green door into a lobby which contained an empty desk and a few scattered chairs. Zeninna offered a small prayer of thanks to Cephalo. Whether someone always staffed the check-in desk had been one of the uncontrollable, unknowable parts of her plan.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAdlai struck a bell on the desk. A nurse bustled into the room about half a minute later.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;What can I do for you?&#8221; She looked from Adlai to Zeninna.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I\u2026&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;She\u2026&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nZeninna looked at Adlai, who flushed and gestured for Zeninna to go on.<br \/>\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 feeling kind of nauseated.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe nurse smiled sympathetically. &#8220;Come on back. I&#8217;ll take a look at you.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Thanks for escorting me, Adlai.&#8221; Zeninna gave her advisor a weary smile before turning to leave with the nurse.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe held her breath as they walked past the desk and entered a small room. The door banged shut behind Adlai leaving a few seconds later. Thank Cephalo. Zeninna had hoped that Adlai wouldn&#8217;t be able to abandon her roommates, however much she might want to stay and spy on Zeninna.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe nurse laid the back of her hand on Zeninna&#8217;s brow. &#8220;You don&#8217;t feel feverish. Do you have any other symptoms?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;My head aches a bit, and I felt a little dizzy when I stood up to walk over here.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Hmm.&#8221; The nurse took her pulse and checked her eyes, ears and throat. &#8220;I&#8217;m not seeing anything. Perhaps it&#8217;s simply your headache making you feel ill? Let me get you a headache tonic and we&#8217;ll have you rest here tonight. See if that takes care of everything.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nZeninna sniffed the cup. Hoping the contents wouldn&#8217;t kill her, she drank the potion down and curled up on her side on the bed. The nurse doused the lights and left the door slightly ajar. Her footsteps receded, moving deeper into the building. Zeninna smiled over that.<br \/>\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 began to pray. The nurse came to check on her about half an hour later. Zeninna suppressed a smirk and continued with her silent chant.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAnother thirty minutes and the nurse popped in, felt Zeninna&#8217;s forehead, and left. This time Zeninna snored slightly in hopes the nurse would not feel the need to check again tonight.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe counted off five minutes, not wanting to rush out and be caught by the nurse making notes on her chart just outside the door. The door squeaked a bit as Zeninna pushed it open. She flinched and froze. No sound of footsteps. No sign of anyone. She crossed the empty lobby and tiptoed out the door.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHer luck held. Adlai was not waiting outside.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nReciting the start of the ritual in her head, she turned left and hurried along the small alleyway between the buildings. The ritual should be performed in stillness and peace, but Zeninna couldn&#8217;t count on having time when she reached the Magnificence of the Sea. Someone might see her and follow. Security might chose the exact wrong time to walk by that wing.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe Pilgrim&#8217;s Garden was empty. Zeninna&#8217;s feet crunched softly as she walked the twisting paths, the second prayer of the ritual ringing in her head. At the gate, she ducked so as not to set any of the wind chimes singing. Twenty yards from the Pilgrim&#8217;s Garden&#8217;s exit stood the Orirs Building, home of The Magnificence of the Sea.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSlipping through shadows, Zeninna skirted the boundaries of the courtyard. She looped around the side of the building and stepped up to a staff entrance, where she stood silently until she finished the second prayer. Whispering a soft plea to Cephalo, she tried the handle. Locked.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWhy? Zeninna cursed softly. Not an exterior door in any of the buildings where they lived or had classes bore locks. Nor had the Hall of Enlightenment. Why this one? The treasures it held would be esteemed no more than the rare and sacred books.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nOf course, the stacks had been locked. Zeninna raised her head slowly. This was a staff entrance. It led to offices and workrooms and backways that likely were locked away from the public areas too.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHeart fluttering madly, she crept back to the front of the building and raced up the steps. Two steps from the top, an owl hooted. Zeninna jumped a good foot into the air, came down between steps and fell, bashing her shin. Tears filled her eyes. She hobbled to the door and yanked the handle, forgetting in her pain to pray first. The handle turned freely.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLimping inside, she forced herself to concentrate and recite the third prayer of the ritual. Only a few low lanterns in the entry hall and over the stairs provided light. They glittered off royal jewels and artifacts in the exhibits to either side.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nZeninna&#8217;s destination lay upstairs. Praying fervently, she dragged herself upwards. At the turn before the third floor, muffled voices shocked her into stillness.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Do you realize how ludicrous this sounds?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Why do you think I didn&#8217;t go get a supervisor?&#8221; Adlai asked.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I can&#8217;t believe I&#8217;m doing this. Why can&#8217;t we check at the nurse&#8217;s?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;We won&#8217;t have time. She&#8217;ll come here.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I cannot believe you think one of the acolytes is a nymph of some sort. Or that I let you drag me out after curfew. Do you know how much trouble we&#8217;ll get in if we&#8217;re caught?&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nIgnoring her throbbing shin, Zeninna broke into a run. She took the remaining stairs two at a time and raced across the third floor. Her pounding footsteps drowned out all other sounds. They might hear her, but she dared not waste time. She began the fourth prayer.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe sign for the Magnificence of the Sea was shrouded in darkness, but Zeninna didn&#8217;t need to read it to know she&#8217;d reached her goal. To the left of the entrance stood a statue that was supposed to be a mermaid. It wasn&#8217;t quite right, but still recognizable. Whoever carved the one on the left, though, they got a nixie perfect.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nZeninna reached out and traced the nixie&#8217;s face. Had someone modeled for this? History was strewn with tales of nixies befriending humans. Letting them know too much, see too much. The theft Zeninna sought to rectify tonight supported banning such friendships entirely. Her entire world was dying because an infatuated nixie allowed a human to run off with one of the Irides&#8217; most sacred artifacts.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe slipped inside and hurried past displays of items from shipwrecks and of sharks&#8217; and whales&#8217; jawbones. The golden trident of some unknown merpeople made Zeninna shake her head in wonder, but she didn&#8217;t have time to pause and look at it. Oh, and there hung three enormous oceanscapes by Tersola, the greatest painter of seascapes the world had ever known. The stairs creaked. Voices murmured.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nRegret filled Zeninna&#8217;s sigh. She hadn&#8217;t the time to stop and admire the paintings. Crossing into the next room, she hurried to the display in the corner on her left. To the Peral Dagger.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHer breath caught. Awe washed over her. Zeninna closed her eyes and took two deep breaths. She&#8217;d done her best to meditate the last three nights after her roommates fell asleep. She&#8217;d recited all prayers in her head getting here, all but the final one.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Cephalo of the Deep, I come to you in open arms. I offer homage of your beauty. I offer praise of your wisdom. I am young, but I am strong. I am ignorant, but I am faithful. I seek you willingly and with joy.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;Accept this sacrifice on behalf of the Irides. We only wish to honor You. We ask your guidance. Your help. Your return. We would remake the oceans. Return the seas to their pure state in Your honor. In Your Name.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I offer my life force. I offer all the centuries I have yet to live. Use my life to purify the seas. Bring back balance.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;I beg You. Accept this sacrifice which I offer freely in my abiding love of You. You are my will, my heart, my life. I return all to You. In love. In honor. In hope.&#8221;<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHer words seem to ring off the walls. Her skin tingled. She could feel Cephalo. She&#8217;d never felt Her presence so intensely before. She was here. She waited for Zeninna.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nVoices scratched the edges of Zeninna&#8217;s awareness. Irrelevant now. Zeninna belonged to Cephalo.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nZeninna reached out and lifted the Peral Dagger. She caressed the hilt and laid a kiss on its blade.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n&#8220;For my people,&#8221; she whispered as she turned the blade so that its point hovered over her heart.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nTime to return the dagger to the sea. Cephalo would bless them. The Irides Nixies would prosper once again.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe intruding noises grew closer. Grew louder.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNo matter. If Cephalo rejected Zeninna as unworthy, they&#8217;d find a dead nixie with the Peral Dagger protruding from her heart. If Cephalo accepted this sacrifice, they&#8217;d find nothing but sea foam on the floor.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShe plunged the dagger into her heart.<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"galahs\"><\/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>Crows and Galahs<\/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 D. Munro<\/P><br \/>\n<P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake rested in the passenger seat to the purr of the car\u2019s engine, his head gently vibrating against the window. His father held the steering wheel in one hand and hung his other arm out the window, letting a warm breeze dishevel his greying hair. An endless row of barbed wire and wooden posts separated the highway from the fields of canola, blurring past like a yellow brushstroke on blue canvass.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA kangaroo leapt in front of them. The car skidded, launching them into their seat belts. The kangaroo crossed long before they stopped. The smell of burnt rubber drifted through the car.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nImages flashed through Jake\u2019s mind.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe premonition returned.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<em>His mother followed the chain of taillights through the city in her pink hatchback. Piano music played on the radio while rain roared outside. With a half-smile and vacant stare, she was heading home after a long day at work. <\/em><br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<em>Swerving across lanes, the four-wheel drive screeched with each turn. It sped through a red light and slammed into his mother\u2019s car in an explosion of glass and twisting steel.<\/em><br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<em>Slumped through her smashed window, across the blood-smeared white hood of the four-wheel drive, his mother\u2019s sky-blue eyes looked forever to the dark clouds. <\/em><br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cJake.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis eyes snapped open. \u201cHuh?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWe missed it.\u201d His father drove off. \u201cIt\u2019s okay.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake\u2019s trembling fingers pulled at wisps of blonde hair on his chin. Nothing was okay anymore.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou looked like you were lost in your own world again.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cJ\u2014just th\u2014thinking about Mum.\u201d The sun flashed in his side mirror, reminding him how far their all-day drive had taken them from home &#8211; from the place they had all shared. Every day since, and every mile now driven, pulled him further from the family they once had.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cShe\u2019s always on my mind too.\u201d His father wiped a tear from Jake\u2019s eye. \u201cLook at you. Ya know, your mother always said grey eyes were some special family secret.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah, s\u2014she always said nice things.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019ve been real worried about you. Your schooling\u2026at home\u2026you\u2019ve been distant.\u201d His father reached over and rubbed his knee. \u201cYou\u2019re meant to be upset. But\u2026it\u2019s like there\u2019s more going on.\u201d He shook his head. \u201cI just don\u2019t know what\u2019s eating at ya.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<em>I wish I could stop these thoughts in my head coming true.<\/em><br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cJake.\u201d His father shook his leg. \u201cI don\u2019t know what more I can do.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake clawed his seat to control his shaking. \u201cThere\u2019s nothing.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou and me, we need to work through this together\u2026ya know.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake looked at his father and saw three months of worry written into his bloodshot, dark-ringed eyes. Eyes that once shined with happiness &#8211; when they were all together. He wished things had not changed. Guilt stung him inside. If only he had done something. \u201cI just wish I could have been there.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m glad you weren\u2019t.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cTo help her.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo one could have done anything.\u201d His father sniffed. \u201cIt was over in a heartbeat for her.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake shifted away. \u201cTo warn her.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOh, Jake, they said she didn\u2019t even see the other car coming.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<em>I saw it coming. <\/em><br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis father grimaced. \u201cWe\u2019ve been over this. I love you, but this is killing me.\u201d He sighed. \u201cWhat could you have possibly done?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe fixed his father a stare. \u201cI kn\u2014knew it was going to happen\u2026b\u2014beforehand.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis father strangled the steering wheel. \u201cAre you crazy?\u201d He punched the roof. \u201cI\u2019m sorry\u2026I just don\u2019t know what to do anymore. I don\u2019t know how to help\u2026and with our money situation on top of things\u2026it\u2019s all been too much.\u201d He sighed. \u201cI\u2019m just hoping this trip to the country helps.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA hot flush coursed through Jake\u2019s cheeks. He folded his lanky arms and turned away. Darkness cast by trees in the setting sun blanketed their journey ahead. He wondered if his father would ever understand him. No one else did.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA storm of stones awoke Jake as they pulled into a gravel driveway. A farmhouse sat on a rise in the distance, surrounded by a sea of wheat. They parked in a work yard adjoining the home.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDad.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis father turned and yawned.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019ll show you I\u2019m not crazy.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m sure you will.\u201d His father forced a thin smile and mussed Jake\u2019s curls.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA red-orange glow on the horizon stretched across the fields, lighting up a face weathered by seventy seasons farming under the Australian sun. An old man sat perched on the veranda steps, stroking a lamb curled up by his work boots. A chorus of cicadas kept them company.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe stood with a groan and the lamb bleated. \u201cNow shush, Lucky, you\u2019ve \u2018ad your pat,\u201d he said in a drawn-out voice. He stroked the lamb and then extended a grease-etched hand to Jake\u2019s father. \u201cKarl.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGood to see you again, Crow.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYep. It was a hell\u2019ava time at Claire\u2019s funeral, but it was great to see you guys.\u201d Crow stroked his beard. \u201cTen years with nothin\u2019. Now I see ya both again within a few months.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cComing out for harvest was a great idea.\u201d Karl rested his hand on his son\u2019s back. \u201cEspecially for Jake\u2026ya know.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow was your drive, Jakey?\u201d Crow asked.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nDespite Jake being sixteen, he stood taller than most adults, yet Crow towered a foot higher than him. Jake dropped his face and fidgeted.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA callused hand lifted his chin, and Crow\u2019s ash-grey eyes locked onto Jake\u2019s. \u201cI\u2019m glad you didn\u2019t hit that \u2018roo.\u201d Crow grinned.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nShadows leapt into his mind.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<em>Darkness enveloped Crow. A shotgun exploded with a flash, lighting the night. He doubled-over and fell to the dirt.<\/em><br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe porch light shone off Crow\u2019s white hair and his smile pulled at a cobweb of wrinkles. Fear surged through Jake, trembling his body. He did not want any more premonitions. His legs led him backwards. His father stepped forward, reaching out. Jake sprinted to the car, slapped his hands on the hood, and closed his eyes.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat now?\u201d his father shouted.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLeave him be,\u201d Crow said, still calm.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake burned inside with embarrassment at letting his father down again. \u201cI d\u2014don\u2019t want to be here.\u201d He glanced at his father. \u201cI w\u2014want to go.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis father approached and whispered, \u201cPull yourself together. He\u2019s a good man.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<em>That\u2019s why I have to go.<\/em><br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA firm hand pressed on Jake\u2019s back. \u201cDon\u2019t worry yerself,\u201d said Crow, \u201cthis place will bring out the bes\u2019 of ya. I\u2019ll see to that. Just settle in and make a fresh start tomorra\u2019.\u201d<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake crept outside at dawn to the screeching from a flock of galahs. An explosion of pink and grey wings filled the canopy of a giant gum tree in the backyard. His father sat in a tilted-back chair, gazing across the fields. A crisp breeze carried the aroma of coffee from a cup held in his lap.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow\u2019re you feeling today?\u201d His father smiled, pulling out a chair between them.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAh\u2026fine.\u201d Jake scanned the empty work yard.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSomething\u2019s on your mind.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhere\u2019s Crow?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cGetting the header ready. How \u2018bout you help him today?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHeat flushed through Jake. \u201cNo.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA corrugated iron shed rattled in the work yard. A harvester rumbled out, leaving a cloud of red dust and exhaust glowing in the morning light.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake backed up.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis father raised his voice over the engine. \u201cWell, I think his farmhand, Nick, is out somewhere in the ute. I\u2019d like you to get involved somewhere\u2026ya know.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrow opened the cab door and waved Jake in. Jake snapped his head away, leapt down the stairs, and dashed across the back yard.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLucky stood in the far corner, chewing at withered plants clinging to a rusted fence. A four-wheel drive utility loaded with hay bales on the rear tray skidded to a stop on the other side. The lamb scurried away. The driver wound down his window and shouted, \u201cBro, Old Crow said you can help \u2018im or come out wid me.\u201d He laughed. \u201cBut I reckon you better come \u2018long wid me.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe looked from Nick to Crow like a rabbit caught between two foxes.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNick pushed his sunglasses up onto the stubble on his head and revved the engine. \u201cOi, get the fuck in already.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake ducked between the strands of fence, catching his shirt on the barbs as he went through. The rust-spotted door groaned as he opened it and climbed in.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cShut the fuckin\u2019 door, you\u2019re lettin\u2019 the air con out.\u201d They skidded off.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake grappled with his seatbelt in the bouncing car.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBro, you don\u2019t need to belt-up, you dumb arse.\u201d He snickered, swerving along the road.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake clenched his door handle.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOut \u2018ere you can drive how you want \u2018n shit. Cops can\u2019t get you.\u201d His tattooed arm wound down the window and he spat outside. \u201cWe\u2019re headin\u2019 out to a far paddock to feed some sheep.\u201d He burped up the stench of stale beer. \u201cI\u2019ll let ya know when to get out and open the gates \u2018n shit.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA cry burst into Jake\u2019s head. He threw his hands to his ears and clenched his eyes.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<em>Hobbling in a frantic circle, a sheep struggled to walk. Crying out, its twisted back leg etched a trail of blood along the dirt.<\/em><br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOi, what the fuck, bro.\u201d Nick screwed his acne-scarred face.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey sped along the edge of the fields until reaching a barren paddock. A distant mob of sheep marched across the sun-baked earth, chewing at scraps of dry stalk.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake looked back and forth between Nick and the sheep.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNick accelerated.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cH\u2014hey, s-slow down.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNick laughed. \u201cH\u2014h\u2014h\u2014hey.\u201d He jerked the steering wheel side to side, throwing Jake around in his seat.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey skidded to a stop, and the mob surrounded them amongst a cloud of drifting dust. \u201cBro, get out and push the hay off.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake forced his door open against the sheep, climbed into the back tray, pinching his nose at the stench of manure. The utility crept forward. He pushed the bales off one by one into a cacophony of bleats.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSpeeding up, the car swayed from side to side. He gripped the bales and squatted. The sheep stampeded behind. Nick braked, launching Jake into the back windscreen. Laughter erupted inside.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake slapped the driver\u2019s window. \u201cS\u2014stop it, y\u2014you\u2019re going to run them over.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe car jolted into reverse. Wailing sheep competed with the roar of the engine. Nick slammed on the brakes, throwing Jake to the dirt.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBleating frantically, an ewe lay on its side. Jake pushed himself up and wiped the taste of manure from his mouth. The sheep hobbled away, dragging a broken and bloody back leg, before collapsing.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe horn beeped. \u201cOi, get in.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake knelt by the ewe, reached out to touch it, and hesitated, not knowing how to help. His hands shook. Crying out, the animal stared at him. Jake glared at Nick. \u201cHelp it.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNick sped off, coating Jake in a shower of stones.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe sun crawled through the clear sky to mid-point as the sheep\u2019s bleats quietened to an occasional moan through bubbling saliva. Jake rested against the sheep\u2019s sweat-soaked back, stroking its head. The sheep vision tormented him, reminding Jake he could not avoid his premonitions even when he tried.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe utility crested the horizon.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake sprung up, sending a cloud of flies buzzing around them. His heart thumped in his chest, beating faster as the engine grew louder.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrow burst out before the car had stopped. \u201cWhy did \u2018e leave ya \u2018ere?\u201d He ran over to them. \u201cHe said ya wanted to walk back.\u201d He chuckled. \u201cBut I didn\u2019t think you\u2019d wanna trek five k\u2019s in this heat.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHe ran it over,\u201d Jake rasped through a dry throat. \u201cI knew he was going to.\u201d He looked up at Crow. \u201cBut I couldn\u2019t stop him.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHmm.\u201d Crow shook his head. \u201cHe\u2019s some piece o\u2019 work.\u201d He went to the utility and took out a shotgun.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA blast of terror shot through Jake. His body locked in place, his mind racing with the vision of Crow.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<em>Collapsed on the dirt and gasping, blood pooled around Crow.<\/em><br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrow approached, casting a shadow over Jake. \u201cI needa put \u2018er down.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cW\u2014w\u2014what?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe ewe panted.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cMove back.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake stood and dragged himself away. Decaying fences crisscrossed arid paddocks, stretching to the horizon in every direction.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAn explosion blew through Jake.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cJakey.\u201d Crow raised his voice. \u201cCome back with me.\u201d Crow grunted and the utility\u2019s tray banged as the dead sheep landed inside.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA scorching wind stirred up wisps of sand, stinging his bare legs. Crow drove alongside. \u201cCome on, ya can\u2019t \u2018void me forever. An\u2019 besides, too much sun is no good for ya.\u201d He scratched a dark mole on his cheek. \u201cTrus\u2019 me.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI\u2019m not avoiding you.\u201d He walked on, scraping his boots with each step.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell, climb in.\u201d Crow slapped the outside of his door.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake stopped and stroked his sunburnt neck. \u201cI just want a ride back.\u201d He climbed in, burning his legs on the vinyl seat.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLet me take ya somewhere betta.\u201d Crow wiped his forehead with a sweat-stained hat.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI want to be alone.\u201d He folded his arms and turned away.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo, ya don\u2019t. People like us are alone enough already\u2026Trus\u2019 me.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey drove along a track lined with bush on both sides. A tapestry woven with every shade of green whirred past. Crow gently steered around the holes and corrugations in the track as a plume of dust trailed behind.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA crow stood on the road in the distance, diving its beak in and out of a squashed galah. It watched their approach between bites. Jake looked from the bird to Crow, his heart rate increasing. The crow stepped aside at the last moment, and then strolled back after they passed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrow raised his voice over the hot wind howling through the windows. \u201cDo ya know where we get the saying \u2018silly galah\u2019 from?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake turned further away.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell, in the country ya get an understandin\u2019 of the birds. The galahs are the dumbest. They\u2019re at the bottom of the peckin\u2019 order far as intelligence is. You could be drivin\u2019 along and a whole flock will take flight in front of ya, only to turn back and fly straight into ya.\u201d He leaned over. \u201cThey\u2019re stupid.\u201d He focused ahead. \u201cAll other birds are just that little bit smarter as ya go \u2018long. And then there\u2019s the crow.\u201d He grinned. \u201cNothin\u2019 surprises the crow. They always see what\u2019s comin\u2019.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey stopped by a granite rock, sitting like an island in an ocean of wheat. The sunburnt-red monolith blocked out half the sky, casting a cool shadow.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou\u2019re gonna need to learn ta shoot on the farm.\u201d Crow took the shotgun and climbed out.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake\u2019s pulse beat in his ears. He hesitated, before following.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrow demonstrated how to load and work the action. He fired a succession of shots, interspersed with quick pumps. The blasts echoed off the rock and reverberated through Jake long after each discharge.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe pushed the gun into Jake\u2019s hands. \u201cJust aim at somethin\u2019 and \u2018ave a go. Just don\u2019t shoot me.\u201d He chuckled.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake clasped the gun and aimed at a tree. It swayed in the sights. The moment before pulling the trigger stretched for an eternity. His breaths grew louder and his eye glossed over. His sweaty finger slid off the trigger and he lowered the gun.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou can do it, Jakey.\u201d Crow steadied the gun. \u201cJust point \u2018n shoot. Ya can\u2019t miss with this one.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe touched the trigger. The butt exploded back into his shoulder. A pungent burning smell filled the air. He pumped the action, unable to contain his grin.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWay to go.\u201d Crow took the gun and returned it to the car. \u201cLet\u2019s check on the crop.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe followed Crow into the wheat. Drooping seed-heads caressed his arms as they waded through a waist-high golden field. Crow broke off a seed-head, rubbed it between his hands, and handed it to Jake. \u201cEat it.\u201d Jake ate the nutty tasting grain.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDry and crunchy? We\u2019ll start harvest after the full moon.\u201d He caught Jake\u2019s eye. \u201cUnless the storm comes.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrow turned to the rock. A breeze rustled the field, carrying the sweet smell of sun-baked grain. \u201cThat\u2019s where I asked my dear Maggie to marry me.\u201d He took a deep breath. \u201cWe came \u2018ere every year \u2018round this time to check the wheat.\u201d He rubbed Jake\u2019s back. \u201cI know you\u2019re suff\u2019rin\u2019 over your mother. I can see it, and I know how you feel.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah?\u201d he murmured. No one knew how he felt.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI lost Maggie before last seedin\u2019 to cancer. It\u2019s a\u2014\u201d He choked. \u201cIt\u2019s a hell\u2019ava way to go. Trouble for me was I knew it was comin\u2019 and there was nothin\u2019 I could do to help \u2018er.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake knew that feeling. \u201cI wish I had said something to Mum. It\u2019s like I knew something was going to happen.\u201d He quietened his voice. \u201cBut, I didn\u2019t \u2018cause Dad thinks I\u2019m an idiot.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrow gripped Jake\u2019s shoulder. \u201cI wish I could turn back time too. I wish I had been there for Maggie. I was so torn up before she went that I ignored her. Worst part is I\u2019m now havin\u2019 my own medical dilemma\u2026so I kinda know what she went through.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrow wiped his eyes. \u201cMaggie and I had a good fifty seasons. I never\u2026I never wanted to have a harvest without her.\u201d His chin quivered. \u201cI \u2018aven\u2019t told anyone this, Jakey, but after she died I came \u2018ere and nearly ate a mouthful of lead.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake paused. Finally someone knew how he felt. \u201cI wish I had of done more.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYour father tells me you became close to yer mum before she passed on\u2026That\u2019s somethin\u2019.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah but\u2014\u201c<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLook at me.\u201d Crow stood in front of Jake, looking him in the eyes. \u201cI know ya feel real bad \u2018bout your mum\u2019s passin\u2019. But you\u2019re not responsible.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut\u2014\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSomeone else is.\u201d Crow grinned. \u201cAnd that someone will get his in the end.\u201d Crow nodded as the sun silhouetted behind, surrounding him in a brilliant glow.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake placed a palm on Crow\u2019s chest and a burning sensation radiated along his arm. He closed his eyes and released all thoughts.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<em>Grasping at his chest, Crow lay on the dirt. A shadow cast in the moonlight stood over him.<\/em><br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSunlight filtered in. He clenched his eyes, turning his head back and forth.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe figure turned away, shotgun hung by its side, its footsteps crunching on the gravel.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe opened his eyes, mouth agape.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrow smiled. \u201cCome on, we betta check the others.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe premonition haunted the return journey. Muzzled by doubt, he caged his concern for Crow. His father thought he was crazy, and so would everyone else. Crow seemed to understand him, and he would keep it that way.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThey found Nick repairing a collapsed fence where the track bordered a salt lake. Skeletal trees punched through the parched landscape amongst waves of shimmering heat.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cCome \u2018long, Jakey, I want ya to see somethin\u2019.\u201d He winked.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrow approached Nick, with Jake trailing in his shadow. \u201cHey, ya clown,\u201d said Crow.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNick snapped upright, throwing down a pair of pliers. \u201cWhat?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrow stopped an inch from Nick, leaning over him. \u201cWhat\u2019s with leavin\u2019 the boy out there?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSqueezing his fists and bobbing up and down, Nick shouted, \u201cBugger off, he wouldn\u2019t fuckin\u2019 get back in.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrow stood firm.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake stepped back.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell, I\u2019m holdin\u2019 off ya pay,\u201d said Crow.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGlaring at Jake, Nick stepped over and jabbed him in the chest with a bony finger. \u201cWhat did you say, ya little faggot?\u201d Sweat dripped off Nick\u2019s nose.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake held up his palms. \u201cI\u2014I\u2014\u201d<br \/>\n <\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nDarkness flickered into his mind.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<em>Moonlight flared in Nick\u2019s dilated pupils. With a twisted face, he thrust forward a shotgun, looming over Crow.<\/em><br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nSunlight fluttered Jake\u2019s eyes. \u201cI d\u2014didn\u2019t \u2026\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nLaughter burst through Nick\u2019s rotten teeth.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake turned and tripped, grazing his hands on the salt-encrusted ground.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat\u2026the\u2026fuck.\u201d Nick strolled away. \u201cYou\u2019ll pay me, Old Man.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrow leant down beside Jake\u2019s quivering face. \u201cDon\u2019t worry \u2018bout him. He\u2019s jus\u2019 a silly galah.\u201d He lifted Jake with one hand.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake faced Crow, unblinking and heaving for air.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cIt\u2019s all right, Jakey.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cN\u2014N\u2014Nick \u2026\u201d Pressure built in his head and the ground swayed.  \u201cHe\u2014\u201c His knees buckled and he fell into darkness.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA sizzling barbeque aroused Jake to the smell of cooked lamb. Nick raged in his head. The vision had opened his cage of self-doubt, and now with the final feather in place, his mind flew free on a path to help Crow. He dashed outside and found Crow on the veranda.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHiya, Jakey.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake dived onto a chair next to him.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHow ya feelin\u2019?\u201d Crow asked.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe put his face in his hands, not knowing where to start. \u201cHuh?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou passed out.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe dropped his arms. \u201cWhere\u2019s Nick?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOut fencin\u2019 with your father.\u201d Crow set down two plates of lamb chops and salad. \u201cI was hopin\u2019 you\u2019d eat\u2014\u201c<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe pushed his meal away. \u201cWhere\u2019s your guns?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cLocked in the shed.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake scraped his chair back. \u201cI hate Nick.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrow grinned. \u201cMe too.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell\u2026why is he here?\u201d He held his breath.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cHe has a purpose \u2018ere at the moment.\u201d Crow chewed on a chop. \u201cWhen he\u2019s done his job, he\u2019ll be on his way.\u201d He slapped a fly on the table so hard the plates jumped. \u201cYou can be sure of that.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cBut he\u2019s dangerous.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrow sipped a beer like time did not matter.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake sprang up. \u201cI just know it.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWell, I know stuff too, Jakey, and I have a feelin\u2019 we need his help \u2018ere.\u201d He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and leant back.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI have a feeling too\u2026and\u2026and he\u2019s got to go.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cListen.\u201d Crow exhaled. \u201cI was passin\u2019 through town a couple of weeks back and I jus\u2019 had an urge,\u201d he picked up his beer, \u201cand stopped at the pub. That\u2019s where I found \u2018im. Said he was tryin\u2019 to get away from the city.\u201d He took a long swig. \u201cI hadn\u2019t really been too focused on harvest this year, but I took one look at \u2018im and knew he could help me out. Then I ran with the idea and got you and ya dad up too.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake marched into the backyard, trying to contain his frustration, dry grass scratching his bare feet. The sun had just set. He took a deep breath and turned back. The iron roof of the home glowed under a full moon. A chill crawled up his back like a spider.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe rumble of a tractor approached.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe ran back. \u201cThe full moon\u2019s tonight?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cSure is.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe spun to the work yard. A tractor drove in, followed by the utility. He whipped his head back. \u201cNick\u2019s back.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrow collected the plates. \u201cEverything will be fine. Trus\u2019 me. Why don\u2019t you get yerself an early night? You\u2019ll need it.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake paused, defeated. \u201cJ\u2014just be careful.\u201d He went to his bedroom and peered through the curtains.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWalking like every muscle cramped, his father returned to the house. Nick strutted to his caravan in the work yard.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake paced the room.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis father staggered in and slumped onto his bed on the other side of the room. \u201cHow\u2019s your day?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cD\u2014Dad.\u201d Jake stood still.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYeah?\u201d His father sat up and rubbed his beard stubble.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe struggled to swallow. \u201cRemember I said I knew Mum\u2019s crash was going to happen?\u201d He dove his fidgeting hands into his pockets.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nKarl let his face drop and exhaled. \u201cYeah.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd y\u2014you said I w\u2014was crazy?\u201d<br \/>\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 you\u2019re crazy\u2026ya know.\u201d He cupped his hands on his face. \u201cYou\u2019re just not well\u2026 Not well at all.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cD\u2014Dad.\u201d His body trembled. \u201cI knew Mum was going to die and I did nothing about it.\u201d He wiped his sleeve across his nose. \u201cBecause people think I\u2019m mad.\u201d He threw his arms up. \u201cI see things all the time\u2026Bad things\u2026Before they happen.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHis father shook his head. \u201cShit, Jake. I\u2019m ready to go home.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cDad, Nick is going to shoot Crow\u2026tonight.\u201d He burned with rage.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe stepped closer. \u201cI want your help.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat the hell are you on about? We\u2019re not doing anything.\u201d He laid back down. \u201cIf I wasn\u2019t so knackered I\u2019d leave now. Go to sleep.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake climbed into his blankets. His body shuddered. He knew he was on his own. He tossed and turned for hours at a loss for what to do.<br \/>\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><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA tapping at the window cut through the silence. Jake scurried to the bedhead. His hands trembled. He snatched the curtains aside. A crow perched on the windowsill, staring at him with its midnight-black eye. It cawed and flew away into the darkness. Jake jumped back.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nMoonlight slipped through a gap in the curtains, lighting Jake\u2019s father snoring in bed. Jake crept past and out of the room. Floorboards creaked and the back door groaned open.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nA lightning storm danced on the horizon.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nGravel crunched underfoot across the work yard and into the shed. Jake tugged the cold steel handle on the safe and it held firm.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe crept back towards the house. Shadows cast in the moonlight stretched across the work yard like dark claws. Goosebumps crawled up his arms.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNick\u2019s caravan door screeched.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake froze. Sweat burst through every pore on his body.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNick swayed in the doorway, the interior light throwing his shadow over Jake. Nick sucked on a glass pipe whilst holding a lighter to the end. He pulled the pipe out. \u201cWhat \u2018cha doing sneakin\u2019 \u2018round, you little pussy?\u201d Nick fell back with a crash and laughed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake sprinted inside and pulled the covers over his head, straining to slow his breaths.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nFootsteps creaked on the veranda, each step shooting fear into him. He peered through the window. Nick snatched open the back door. Jake leapt off the bed and pressed himself against the bedroom door. Drawers and cupboards opened around the home. A set of keys rattled.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe footsteps disappeared outside. Jake sprang to the window and fogged it with his breath. A dark figure went into the shed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<em>Just be quiet, just be\u2014<\/em><br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrow walked outside.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nHe placed a shotgun by Jake\u2019s window, and strolled into the shed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake launched out of bed, crashing onto the floor in a tangle of blankets. He scrambled outside, picked up the gun, and scurried to the side of the shed. He leant back against the corrugated iron wall. Sweat trickled into his mouth.<br \/>\n <\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe thunderstorm rumbled.<br \/>\n <\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe gun safe clanked open.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNick,\u201d said Crow with his calm voice.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cOi, what the fuck?\u201d yelled Nick.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake strained to stand, but his trembling legs collapsed and he slumped to the dirt. The gun barrel shook in front of his face. The smell of oiled metal churned his stomach.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou\u2019re nuthin\u2019 but a thief\u2026and a murd\u2019rin\u2019 coward.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWhat? Hey\u2026hey, Old Man. There\u2019s been no murder.\u201d A shrill laugh erupted. \u201cNot yet anyways.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI know who you are.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou know fuck all\u2026Old Cunt. You should\u2019a paid me\u2026I need my fix. I just need it. Okay. Now I\u2019m taking this shit and your ute too.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou\u2019re goin\u2019 all right,\u201d said Crow, \u201cbut not where you think.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNick laughed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou killed my niece.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNick went silent.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThunder clapped overhead.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou killed \u2018er in that crash and ran \u2018way like the coward ya are.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nImages crashed into Jake\u2019s mind.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n<em>Nick leapt from the four-wheel drive into the blood-stained shattered glass on the road and ran away.<\/em><br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cWh\u2014\u201c Nick\u2019s voice quietened.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cAnd I aint lettin\u2019 ya get away with it.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou aint doin\u2019 shit, Old Man.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake\u2019s heart pounded.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNick, do it,\u201d Crow screamed. \u201cDo it, you murd\u2019rin\u2019\u2014\u201c<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nAn explosion shook the shed.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake\u2019s eyes snapped open. Lightning streaked across the sky. He leapt to his feet. He pulled the gun\u2019s stock into his shoulder and steered the sights into the work yard.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNick wandered between the sights, saw Jake, and stopped. He grinned and lowered his own gun. \u201cPussy.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake held his aim firm.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nThe back door slammed open. \u201cJake,\u201d yelled his father.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNick looked to Karl.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNick,\u201d shouted Jake.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nKarl halted. \u201cWhat happened?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cFuck off.\u201d Nick raised his gun at Karl.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake snatched the trigger. Nick flew sideways. He yanked the action back and forth, clenched the trigger, and repeated the cycle until the last few pulls ended with empty clicks.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nNick\u2019s twisted body lay face-down, gargling and choking.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake\u2019s ears rung. Adrenaline surged through him. He dropped the gun and ran to Crow.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrow lay on his back, caressing a wound on his chest. \u201cJakey.\u201d He gasped.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake trembled a sob.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nBlood trickled out the corner of Crow\u2019s mouth. \u201cYou did it.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cNo, I didn\u2019t. You\u2019re shot. I did nothing.\u201d Jake dropped to his knees and put a hand on Crow\u2019s wound. \u201cYet again.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cI have cancer and it was \u2018bout to kill me.&#8221; Crow gasped. &#8220;I chose to go on my terms.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nWarm blood oozed through Jake\u2019s fingers. \u201cWhat?\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrow\u2019s hands slumped to his sides. \u201cI have visions too, Jakey. Like the crow, you and I always see what\u2019s comin\u2019.\u201d He chuckled.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nJake cried. \u201cI can\u2019t do anything about them.\u201d<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\n\u201cYou\u2019re not meant to.\u201d Crow coughed a spray of blood. \u201cJus\u2019 make the most of the time ya have. You became close with your mum\u2026before she passed. You did good.\u201d He gasped and air sucked through a hole in his chest. \u201cNow, don\u2019t push your father away.\u201d He reached up and caressed Jake\u2019s cheek with a wet hand. Jake laid his hand over Crow\u2019s. \u201cLook after my farm.\u201d His hand fell.<br \/>\n<\/P><P LANG=\"zxx\" CLASS=\"western\" STYLE=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\"><br \/>\nCrow went still.<br \/>\n<\/P><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak \/><br \/>\n<a name=\"interview\"><\/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>The Colored Lens Interviews: Jarod K Anderson<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/H1><\/p>\n<p><b>The Colored Lens:<\/b>  What inspired the individual stories you&#8217;ve published with us? <\/p>\n<p><b>Jarod:<\/b>  It&#8217;s often hard for me to pin down a single inspiration for my stories. I think my inspiration is usually more of a melding of several (often random) concepts that interest me at any given time. I&#8217;m a curious person, so I often get obsessed with new topics that catch my attention. For example, I recently went through a phase in which I was dedicated to learning how to pick locks. Will that end up in one of my stories? Probably, but I have no clue how. <\/p>\n<p>Beyond a general love of mad scientists, I&#8217;m not sure what inspired &#8220;A Junker&#8217;s Kiss.&#8221; I guess it&#8217;s sort of a confluence of my interests in body modification and absurd science. As for &#8220;The Shallows,&#8221; that story was inspired more by a location. I spend a week or so in Florida every year and, as a lifelong resident of Ohio, it&#8217;s hard not to be fascinated by the open sea. I look at the sky reflected in an Ohio pond and I have some pretty good guesses about what might be beneath the surface. When I stare out into the ocean, I feel an immense amount of uncertainty about what might be swimming below. For me, nothing is as inspiring as a mystery. <\/p>\n<p><b>The Colored Lens:<\/b>  Family relationships often seem to play a role in your stories.\u00a0 Do you feel that&#8217;s a common theme in your writing?\u00a0 Or what would you consider some of the common themes?<\/p>\n<p><b>Jarod:<\/b>  I hope relationships are a common theme in my stories. I love fantasy, science fiction, and horror, but I&#8217;m not particularly interested in vivid descriptions of monsters or magical landscapes unless they are paired with empathetic characters struggling with fundamentally human problems. A monster alone in a vacuum is nowhere near as interesting as a monster hiding in the back of a loving family&#8217;s minivan. Believable human interaction is the real fuel that gives power to writers&#8217; elements of the fantastical. <\/p>\n<p><b>The Colored Lens:<\/b>  When you start writing a story, do you know how it&#8217;s going to end? If not, can you give us an example (ideally from a story you&#8217;ve published with us so our readers can make the connection) of a story you expected to go in one direction that went somewhere else? <\/p>\n<p><b>Jarod:<\/b>  It depends. How&#8217;s that for an unhelpful answer? Sometimes I start a story because I&#8217;ve thought of a punchy ending. Sometimes I just have the broad outline of a conflict in mind. I think for &#8220;The Shallows&#8221; I just had a rough sketch when I started. A man in a small boat goes fishing and encounters merpeople. On its own, that premise probably isn&#8217;t interesting enough to carry a narrative, so I knew I needed to do more than simply make the protagonist a victim. Somewhere in the writing process I introduced some good ol&#8217; vampire\/werewolf transformation mechanics into the mix and found the unexpected complication I needed.\u00a0 <\/p>\n<p><b>The Colored Lens:<\/b>  What would you like to read more of &#038; what are you tired of in general in speculative fiction?<\/p>\n<p><b>Jarod:<\/b>  I could use more humor. I empathize more with characters who aren&#8217;t afraid to be the butt of the joke. Take Harry Dresden (of The Dresden Files) for example. Those books have plenty of real fear and struggle and tragedy, but Harry&#8217;s wisecracks do a lot to humanize magic and ground the fantastical elements in believable reality. The Expanse series does a good job of walking that line as well. I guess that leads me to what I&#8217;m tired of in fiction. If I&#8217;m starting a new fantasy book and the first twenty pages are setting, you&#8217;ve lost me. Once I&#8217;m invested in the characters, I&#8217;m willing to learn more about the geography of the dread Mountains of the Wailing Cheese and the Mystic Caverns of Gorp. Characters and tension needs to come first. The fantastical world should come second (or third). <\/p>\n<p><b>The Colored Lens:<\/b>  What was the first speculative work that really captured your attention and got you interested in the genre?<\/p>\n<p><b>Jarod:<\/b>  I had an audio version of The Hobbit that I probably listened to a few hundred times as a kid hiding under my blankets with my boombox (I&#8217;m old). That led to Lord of the Rings. That led to living with piles and piles of books. <\/p>\n<p><b>The Colored Lens:<\/b>  You also mention an upcoming story in Pseudopod below.\u00a0 How do you feel audiobooks relate or compare to paper books in terms of reader experience?\u00a0 Do you write with either audio or written form in mind when you write a story?\u00a0 Or do you think some of your stories are more suited to one or the other?<\/p>\n<p><b>Jarod:<\/b>  On an average weekday I commute for over two hours, so I&#8217;m a big fan of audiobooks. They are a different experience from paper books, but I love both experiences equally. For example, I love the novel Moby Dick, but when I recommend it to someone I typically recommend the audio version. I find that dense and sometimes difficult works like <em>Moby Dick<\/em> benefit from audio because the reader isn&#8217;t allowed to get slowed or frustrated. The language rolls along and sweeps the listener along with it. I also recommend audio for works like <em>Paradise Lost,<\/em> works in which the musicality of the language adds to the experience. That said, there is a wonderful intimacy between the reader and a physical book. Audio has a bit more distance to it. <\/p>\n<p>I have never written a story specifically for audio and I absolutely get squirmy when I hear my work read aloud. Squirmy feeling aside, I love publishing in audio formats. I love it partly because I&#8217;m such an avid consumer of audio fiction and partly because I feel like the act of performing a piece lends some extra weight to the thing. <\/p>\n<p><b>The Colored Lens:<\/b>  What\u2019s a typical day like for you, either including writing or not?<\/p>\n<p><b>Jarod:<\/b>  I work at a university in marketing and fundraising during the day. I do most of my writing in the evening. I also spend time playing with my two, oddball, rescued mutts and hanging out with my lovely, oddball, writer wife. <\/p>\n<p><b>The Colored Lens:<\/b>  Who\u2019s the better writer, you or your wife?\u00a0 \ud83d\ude42<\/p>\n<p><b>Jarod:<\/b>  The short answer is &#8220;she is.&#8221; The longer answer is &#8220;it depends what genre\/style\/form you&#8217;re talking about.&#8221; Since you gave me an opening, I will say this: You need to read Leslie&#8217;s poetry. I know I&#8217;m married to her so my opinion is suspect, but she is my favorite poet and would be even if I&#8217;d never met her. Check out her collection An Inheritance of Stone and prepare to be surprised when poems about space exploration and science fiction make you cry. <\/p>\n<p><b>The Colored Lens:<\/b>  How does your relationship as writers affect your relationship as a married couple, and vice versa?<\/p>\n<p><b>Jarod:<\/b>  Well, we do peer pressure each other into writing more. For example, I might be sitting down to play a video game and look over to see Leslie tapping away on her laptop and think, &#8220;well, if she&#8217;s writing, I should probably be writing too.&#8221; <\/p>\n<p><b>The Colored Lens:<\/b>  Have you ever\/would you consider writing something together?<\/p>\n<p><b>Jarod:<\/b>  You bet! We have very different processes, but we do like to collaborate. We&#8217;ve written a couple books of writing prompts together and right now we&#8217;re working on an epistolary horror novella together. <\/p>\n<p><b>The Colored Lens:<\/b>  To what extent do your personal experiences (job, family, or odd things that have happened to you) influence your stories?\u00a0 <\/p>\n<p><b>Jarod:<\/b>  Well, I don&#8217;t really think I can separate my imagination from my experiences. I think if I were to say that my personal experiences don&#8217;t shape my writing, it would mean more about my lack of self reflection than give any real insight into my creative process. <\/p>\n<p><b>The Colored Lens:<\/b>  What&#8217;s the most frustrating thing about the writing process and the publishing industry for you?<\/p>\n<p><b>Jarod:<\/b> Writing is hard. It was always hard and, while I&#8217;m enthusiastic about it, I don&#8217;t believe it ever gets any easier. Don&#8217;t get me wrong, I love writing. It&#8217;s just the kind of love that also makes me want to punch a wall sometimes. Occasionally, aspiring writers ask me for advice and I usually tell them some version of, &#8220;You often won&#8217;t feel like writing because it&#8217;s hard and lonely and usually involves very little reward. You also need to find ways to make yourself do it every day anyway if you want to be a writer.&#8221; On a positive note, I like to remind myself that nothing really creatively rewarding is ever easy. Plus, if it wasn&#8217;t so challenging it would get boring. <\/p>\n<p><b>The Colored Lens:<\/b>  Do you have any upcoming projects that we should watch for?<\/p>\n<p><b>Jarod:<\/b> I have a flash fiction piece in the current episode of Pseudopod. Also, my middle grade novel is currently being considered by several agents (fingers crossed) and I have a poem in an upcoming issue of Asimov&#8217;s. <\/p>\n<p><b>The Colored Lens:<\/b>  Congratulations on those, and good luck with the novel.\u00a0 It seems you&#8217;re primarily a short story writer.\u00a0 Do you think this is an accurate statement?\u00a0 And how would you compare writing novels and short stories?<\/p>\n<p><b>Jarod:<\/b>  I&#8217;ve written two novels and a third one is on the way. The thing is, I&#8217;m aiming for a pretty traditional publishing path, so you aren&#8217;t likely to see my novels unless I find a novel publisher with whom I&#8217;m excited to work. Yes, I think it&#8217;s accurate to say that I&#8217;m mostly a short story writer&#8230; for now. Novels and short stories are pretty night and day for me. Short stories are about economy of language and building a satisfying narrative in a compact space. A novel lets you stretch out and experiment and play around a lot more than short fiction. <\/p>\n<p><b>The Colored Lens:<\/b>  Finally, unrelated to writing, what\u2019s the craziest thing you\u2019ve ever done?\u00a0 And what achievement are you most proud of?<\/p>\n<p><b>Jarod:<\/b> I once fought off a carjacker with a knife and I&#8217;m pretty proud of earning my MA in literature. <\/p>\n<p><b>The Colored Lens:<\/b>  Wow, we&#8217;re glad you were successful.\u00a0 Can you tell us a bit more of the story of the carjacking?\u00a0 And do you think having an MA in literature affects the way you read or write speculative fiction?<\/p>\n<p><b>Jarod:<\/b>  I was a college student and I gave a hitchhiker a ride. The guy asked me to pull over so that he could use his cell phone at one point. You know&#8230; because you can&#8217;t use a phone and ride in a car at the same time (this guy was not a master criminal). He pulled a knife on me and demanded that I get out of the car. I was young and on the boxing team at my school and I decided I&#8217;d rather fight him than give up my car. Thankfully, I won. In reality, I probably should have just given him the car. It was a piece of junk and not worth risking my life. I did get a pretty good little story out of it though. <\/p>\n<p>I&#8217;m sure my MA has an effect on the way I write and read, but I don&#8217;t think it&#8217;s a massive difference from anybody who doesn&#8217;t have a MA in literature. I&#8217;ve just spent a lot of hours studying various ways to think about stories. I think that investment of time enhances my enjoyment of reading and occasionally provides me with a trick or two when I&#8217;m writing. It can also be a little distracting because I&#8217;m in the habit of looking for essay topics.<\/p>\n<p><b>The Colored Lens:<\/b>  So you&#8217;ve published a couple books of writing prompts.\u00a0 Do you often use writing prompts in your own writing?<\/p>\n<p><b>Jarod:<\/b> I don&#8217;t, actually. Coming up with the idea is never the hard part for me. I never run out of ideas. Putting in the hours to actually get the idea down on paper and polished into something a person might want to read is the hard part. For me, inspiration is cheap. Follow-through is the important part. <\/p>\n<p><b>The Colored Lens:<\/b>  Finally, are you a dog person or a cat person?<\/p>\n<p><b>Jarod:<\/b>  Definitely a dog person. I like cats, but I am very, very, very, very, very allergic to them.<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 2017, 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 Spring 2017 &ndash; Issue #23 Featuring works by J. J. Roth, Tamoha Sengupta, David Cleden, Peter Ryan, Mark Bilsborough, Dale L. Sproule, Serena Johe, Subodhana Wijeyeratne, Madeline Olsen, A.P. Miller, Lynn Rushlau, and Jamie D. Munro. 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-136279","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/136279","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=136279"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/136279\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":136285,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/136279\/revisions\/136285"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=136279"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}