{"id":136291,"date":"2019-07-14T05:19:12","date_gmt":"2019-07-14T05:19:12","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/?page_id=136291"},"modified":"2019-07-14T05:19:12","modified_gmt":"2019-07-14T05:19:12","slug":"the-colored-lens-25-autumn-2017","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/?page_id=136291","title":{"rendered":"The Colored Lens #25 \u2013 Autumn 2017"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a name=\"start\"><\/a><br \/>\n<a href=\"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/09\/Cover.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/09\/Cover.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"790\" height=\"1024\" \/><\/a><br \/>\n<center><br \/>\n<font style=\"font-size: 48pt\" size=\"7\">The Colored Lens<\/font><\/center><\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font size=\"6\"><\/font><\/p>\n<p><center><font size=\"6\">Speculative Fiction Magazine<\/font><\/center><\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font style=\"font-size: 20pt\" size=\"5\"><\/font><\/p>\n<p><center><font style=\"font-size: 20pt\" size=\"5\">Autumn 2017 \u2013 Issue #25<\/font><\/center><\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n\n<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font size=\"5\"><\/font><\/p>\n<p><center><font size=\"5\">Featuring works by<br \/>\nZachary Tringali, Derrick Boden, Andy Tu, George Lockett, Carl Barker,<br \/>\nMicha\u00ebl Wertenberg, Vaya Pseftaki, Nicholas Schmiedicker, and Stephen<br \/>\nTaylor.<\/font><\/center><\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font size=\"5\"><\/font><\/p>\n<p><center><font size=\"5\"><br \/>\n<\/font><\/center><\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font size=\"5\"><\/font><\/p>\n<p><center><font size=\"5\">Cover art by Kristina Gehrmann<\/font><\/center><\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font size=\"5\"><\/font><\/p>\n<p><center><font size=\"5\"><br \/>\n<\/font><\/center><\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n\n<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font size=\"5\"><\/font><\/p>\n<p><center><font size=\"5\">Edited by Dawn Lloyd and Daniel Scott<br \/>\nHenry Fields, Associate Editor<\/font><\/center><\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n\n<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font size=\"5\"><\/font><\/p>\n<p><center><font size=\"5\">Published by Light Spring LLC <\/font><\/center><\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font size=\"5\"><\/font><\/p>\n<p><center><font size=\"5\">Fort Worth, Texas<\/font><\/center><\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font size=\"5\"><\/font><\/p>\n<p><center><font size=\"5\">\u00a9 Copyright 2017, All Rights Reserved<\/font><\/center><\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n\n<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font color=\"#000080\"><span lang=\"zxx\"><u><\/u><\/span><\/font><\/p>\n<p><center><font color=\"#000080\"><u><a href=\"http:\/\/www.thecoloredlens.com\/\"><font size=\"5\">www.TheColoredLens.com<\/font><\/a><\/u><\/font><\/center><\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak><\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal\" lang=\"zxx\">\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=\"#truth\">One Great Truth<\/a> by Zachary Tringali<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#carapace\">Carapace<\/a> by Derrick Boden<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#train\">The Train Set<\/a> by Andy Tu<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#better\">Lies About Your Better Self<\/a> by George Lockett<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#kariudo\">Kami No Kariudo<\/a> by Carl Barker<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#hygiene\">Office Hygiene<\/a> by Micha\u00ebl Wertenberg<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#sinkholes\">Sinkholes<\/a> by Vaya Pseftaki<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#song\">A God&#8217;s Song<\/a> by Nicholas Schmiedicker<\/li>\n<li><a href=\"#unfoundary\">The Unfoundary<\/a> by Stephen Taylor<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak><br \/>\n<a name=\"truth\"><\/a><\/p>\n<h1 class=\"western\" style=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font face=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><font size=\"6\">One Great Truth<\/font><\/font><\/h1>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\nBy Zachary Tringali<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\nWe went north because the stars told us to.\n<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>They stayed behind because they were too weak to follow.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>This is the one great truth of the Glass Sea.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Fire! the heavens cried and opened up. The Star broke through the crust<br \/>\nof the dark sky, red and yellow and burning up the night. I was the<br \/>\nfirst to my horse\u2014the youngest, the fastest, and I was the first to lean<br \/>\n into the wind and soar across the desert. First among firsts, and in<br \/>\nthat moment, I was singular. I was the Princess of the Dunes.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Together we ran, the horse and I, as the wind howled and the waves of<br \/>\nsand whipped overhead, trying to swallow us. I charted our course by the<br \/>\n Glass Sea in the east, where the sand has hardened under the sun\u2019s<br \/>\ncruel gaze, its black surface burnished copper in a crude reflection of<br \/>\nthe Star\u2019s path. Later, when I found a small shelf of stone jutting out<br \/>\nfrom the dunes and I stopped in the shade to suck the water from my<br \/>\nhorseskin, I finally looked back. Four, five, six other figures trailed<br \/>\nacross the slopes, hooves plugging at the sand where I had already been.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhere is everyone?\u201d I cried before they could answer, greedily sucking<br \/>\ndown another two gulps of water so I wouldn\u2019t have to share, gagging,<br \/>\nbelly pinching. Life is hard and hot and the soft are turned to glass.<br \/>\nEat as much as you can, drink more than you think you can, take what you<br \/>\n want beyond what you need. Live. \u201cWhere is everyone?\u201d I asked again<br \/>\nwhen they were closer.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThey stayed back to pack their things. They\u2019ll come and meet us soon.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I squinted off into the north and burned my eyes on the Star\u2019s bright<br \/>\narc. Then back to the south, where the sandstorm swept across the desert<br \/>\n and hid the world, our little cloth-and-stick village with its clay<br \/>\ncups and wrinkle framed smiles, from me. I knew better. I wasn\u2019t a child<br \/>\n anymore, and they wouldn\u2019t be coming: Marta, Braten, Gorta, Shira,<br \/>\nOrla, I\u2019m already forgetting all their names. The sun burns everything<br \/>\naway. I turned the glass ring on my index finger, Mother Marta\u2019s<br \/>\ngift\u2014her last gift. There was a pain in my belly, a fear, pushed down<br \/>\nand covered over.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIs that how it happens?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHm?\u201d Bravig took the horseskin from my hand, sucked the last drops from it, then reached for his own.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou get old, you get slow, you die?\u201d Round and round Mother Marta\u2019s<br \/>\nring went as the numbness grew, as I piled cold truth upon hot pain.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s more complicated than that,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cNot really,\u201d Embra answered. \u201cYou\u2019ll be the same one day. Bit by bit,<br \/>\nday by day. When the next Star comes, you might run off slower. You\u2019ll<br \/>\nbe cautious, you\u2019ll want Bravig there, maybe, he\u2019s a tough bastard. Or<br \/>\nmaybe you\u2019ll have some stone carvings you want to keep, or a patch of<br \/>\nsewing you were working on\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cNo,\u201d I said, and wiped the sweat from my face. I climbed back into the<br \/>\nsaddle, the horse sweating and half dead half a ride ago. I wanted to<br \/>\nask Bravig to trade with me, to take his horse. She was lean and fast. I<br \/>\n deserved her, really. I was first among firsts, the strongest. I would<br \/>\noutlive Bravig. But I was young still, small, and Bravig was a tough<br \/>\nbastard, it was true. If I asked him, he would cuff me on the head and I<br \/>\n would have to kill him or be made small, and I didn\u2019t care enough to<br \/>\nkill him. I bit my chapped lip and tasted blood.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s not so bad.\u201d Embra stroked her horse\u2019s mane. She was a woman grown<br \/>\n since two years past, the braids of her blonde hair thick with grit and<br \/>\n spilling out of the white folds of cloth wrapped around her head. \u201cA<br \/>\nyear ago, you would have already run. Now you linger with us here. Maybe<br \/>\n next Starfall you\u2019ll have a child. Maybe you\u2019ll get lost in the storm<br \/>\nhelping your child get away, but they survive. You die but your children<br \/>\n live. Life goes on.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHow does that help me? I\u2019ll still be dead.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019ll understand one day.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>But that sounded like another pretty lie. I knew the truth\u2014the real truth.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I prized the glass ring from my finger and gave it to those nameless<br \/>\ndunes, and then I left ahead of them. I chased the Star into the north,<br \/>\nuntil the earth swallowed the sun and the land turned flat and hard. My<br \/>\nhorse died somewhere in that foreign land, under the crescent moon. Her<br \/>\nlegs started moving slower at first, twitching. She fought the bit,<br \/>\npulling. But I pushed and pushed and then she died. Collapsed and nearly<br \/>\n crushed me. And then I went by foot.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Should\u2019ve taken Bravig\u2019s horse.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>But I found the Star first, all the same.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>She was asleep and beautiful, silver with stripes of red, the shell<br \/>\nhardly damaged, the narrow flanks just sticking out of the crater it had<br \/>\n made in the dunes. At first I thought she survived the crash and I<br \/>\nspent the better part of the night in the dark, fingering every rivet,<br \/>\nevery seam of her flank still warm with life, until I felt the cool spot<br \/>\n where the air pushed out from the little hole half buried in the sand,<br \/>\nand I could just glimpse the pale blue light inside, washing over<br \/>\nglistening silver.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I was tired, so I sat down and covered the hole up with my back. I slept.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Embra and Bravig arrived with the sun the next morning, trailed by three others, blistered and slick with sweat.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cStorm almost got you,\u201d I said, picking grit out of my eyes.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDidn\u2019t, though,\u201d Bravig said. \u201cWe need the cutter?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI got it,\u201d I said and leaned away enough to show the little gap.<br \/>\nEveryone gathered around, fighting for a look, hunger in their eyes. But<br \/>\n I was the one small enough to squeeze through the hole and I didn\u2019t<br \/>\ngive anyone else a chance to try. I made Bravig give me the last of his<br \/>\nwater and then I made myself small, small, small as I could and squeezed<br \/>\n through the hole, her cut hide scraping at my arms and shoulders,<br \/>\nfighting me.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I won. I pushed inside, stumbled, the sound of my footfalls ringing<br \/>\nsharp in the cramped space. Inside I basked in the pale blue light, the<br \/>\ncold air, the soft pressure that always seemed to exist inside the heart<br \/>\n of a Star. As if the world were more real there, somehow. Sharper.<br \/>\nBetter. I brushed my fingers across silver tables, sucking in a breath<br \/>\nas I felt the gooseflesh rise up my arms.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Star rattled gently and breathed out in a low, hush whisper, and<br \/>\ncool wind washed over my hands, my arms, bits of exposed flesh where<br \/>\ndried skin flaked and drifted off as I followed the soft pulse of a cold<br \/>\n blue light down the hall. Gleaming silver shelves lined the narrow<br \/>\npath, stacked with crinkling clear packets filled to bursting with<br \/>\nliquid food, crushed and dried and pressed, making my stomach squeeze<br \/>\nwith need even as I took down four of them, five of them, six of them,<br \/>\nscrunching them up in the waist of my pants, cold against my skin.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIs there anything in there?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cBe quick, don\u2019t breathe too deep!\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIs it still good?\u201d they called from outside, peeping eyes at the hole in the flank.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Once, a star had come to us full of rot and disease. That had been a bad year.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The voices called after me, ghosts. \u201cAre we going to live?\u201d they might have said.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My lungs pumped faster, gobbling up every breath of thin air. The world<br \/>\ntwisted around me, sloping away from my feet, but I kept walking towards<br \/>\n the light as starbursts of light appeared around me: pink and purple<br \/>\nand glowing gold. I followed the one true light, shimmering, rotating.<br \/>\nIt hovered above me at the end of the path, a perfect circle enclosed in<br \/>\n its silver cage. No matter what the others said, that was the true<br \/>\ntreasure.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I touched its cage and it shivered, rotating, spinning, reacting. I saw<br \/>\nthe world that might have been flash before my eyes, projected for me: a<br \/>\n bauble glimmering in a sea of black, brilliant green and full of life.<br \/>\nWe flew above the world, my Star and me, and the world seemed like a<br \/>\nshining dream in the dark with swaths of blue water so big I could drown<br \/>\n in them. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, dry, dry, dry.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Once, when I saw my first Star, I made a drawing in the sand of the<br \/>\nsymbols that floated over the world and it said \u201cSET CUOURS: HOME, ENGNE<br \/>\n DMAGED\u201d \u2013 shapes that have no meaning to me, that may be keys or a name<br \/>\n or nothing at all, but to me they were a beacon. A reason.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>That was where the Stars came from. One day, maybe they would take us back\u2026<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Back to water washing cool over everything. Back to forests of trees<br \/>\nstill living, to light and softness. I was a bird flying in the clouds,<br \/>\nbasking in the water spray, soaring over a sea of rolling green, and I<br \/>\nknew I should leave that place. My heart was pumping faster, faster,<br \/>\nfaster, and my skin was tingling, but I screwed my eyes shut, I felt<br \/>\nlike maybe that was the Star taking me home, working some magic in me. I<br \/>\n swear, I felt it shiver around me, felt the Star shake. The Star showed<br \/>\n me all of this, and I was a ghost in a far-away world, flying over it<br \/>\nall, drinking from the heart of it, full and fed and happy for the first<br \/>\n time in my\u2014<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Hands gripped me. Pulled me. I hit the floor. No, I\u2019d already hit the<br \/>\nfloor. I shook and shook and shook but they held me down\u2014good, strong<br \/>\nhands. I bit my tongue and swallowed blood. My last memory.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I woke in the sand, in the dark of night, spitting up gobs of blood.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Embra hovered over me, held me down, kept me whole.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m fine,\u201d I said, my voice dryer than I wanted it, cracked at all the<br \/>\nedges. I pushed, she held. I fought, she held. And when I cried for all I<br \/>\n lost, all she could never know, she held me too, even if she didn\u2019t<br \/>\nunderstand.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou almost died,\u201d she said. \u201cYou can\u2019t stay in the Star that long. The<br \/>\nair is bad. You\u2019re just supposed to grab what you need and\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI know.\u201d Images flashed through my mind: linen tents, cloth flapping in<br \/>\n the wind. Old faces lined with sand clogged wrinkles. The men and women<br \/>\n left behind in the storm. Family. Marta. Was I any smarter than them?<br \/>\nAny better? I could have died, I could have\u2026 \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Later, later, in the silence, huddled there together\u2026<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat did you see?\u201d Embra whispered.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>That night we made a place together and I told her everything as one by<br \/>\none the family worked to widen the hole in the Star, to kill her, to<br \/>\npull the food out. Careful, ever careful, they were, and I watched as<br \/>\nher light went out. I fed Embra my stories and she ate them up. I don\u2019t<br \/>\nthink she believed me, not really, my stories of that world were like a<br \/>\npretty bauble, glinting in the sky, beautiful and impossible. Only I<br \/>\nknew the truth. One day, I would get there, even if I had to pile up all<br \/>\n of the dunes, handful by handful, and climb there myself.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Embra said she would climb there with me\u2014hold my hand, kiss my face,<br \/>\ncatch me if I fell. The days turned into weeks as we built our camp of<br \/>\ncloth and sticks around the body of the Star, and at night I told her<br \/>\nstories, and we fell in love\u2014or she fell in love with me and I let her,<br \/>\nbecause it was easier that way.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>But I knew one day the wind would change.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>One day the next storm would come, and then the Star, the way it always<br \/>\ndid. One day we would run again. And so one night when the sun went to<br \/>\nsleep, I took the knife, the little one I kept close, and I put it in<br \/>\nEmbra\u2019s chest while she slept, and I watched the light go out.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I\u2019m not a monster. I cried. I wept and buried my face in the sand. But I<br \/>\n would not let her pull me down, bury me in burning sand and<br \/>\nnothingness. I moved on and the dunes took her, just like they took<br \/>\neverything. Maybe a star would come again and turn the dunes to glass.<br \/>\nMaybe Embra would live forever, encased in perfect prism. I don\u2019t know. I<br \/>\n no longer felt the pain in my belly, no great hollow, nothing.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>But the point is, I lived.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>One day the stars would tell us to move again, they always did.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I meant to run, free. To never stop, to never die.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Princess of the Dunes.<\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak><br \/>\n<a name=\"carapace\"><\/a><\/p>\n<h1 class=\"western\" style=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font face=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><font size=\"6\">Carapace<\/font><\/font><\/h1>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\nBy Derrick Boden<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\nThe light slashes my retinas like razor wire.  My body aches from the<br \/>\nnarcotic crash.  My face is a mess of snot and tears.  My breasts itch.<br \/>\n I plead for the carapace to remain closed, though its decaying walls<br \/>\nare little defense against the artificial dawn.\n<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I open my mouth like a greedy chick beneath the dope nozzle.  Nothing.  I<br \/>\n squeeze the valve.  Still nothing.  I&#8217;m out of drugs, save for those<br \/>\nalready ebbing in my bloodstream.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I&#8217;ve no choice but to face the day.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My fingers&#8211;barely human, they&#8217;re so gnarled from hibernation&#8211;scratch<br \/>\nat the seam of the carapace.  I find the fleshy latch&#8211;by chance more<br \/>\nthan routine&#8211;and the shell groans open with a burst of smog.  I shield<br \/>\nmy eyes with an atrophied hand and peer into the alien abyss.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My workstation awaits just out of arm&#8217;s reach.  If only the claw-footed<br \/>\ndesk stood a meter closer, I could snatch up the terminal and type from<br \/>\nthe comfort of my shell.  Of course the thought is futile&#8211;already the<br \/>\ncarapace has begun to wither, curling back on itself like a time-lapse<br \/>\ncarcass.  I stagger to my feet and get to work.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My fingers clack-clack against the keys.  The monitor fills with letters<br \/>\n in a glacial crush of green.  I don&#8217;t think about what I&#8217;m writing,<br \/>\nbecause those are my instructions.  I&#8217;ve learned not to deviate from my<br \/>\ninstructions.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The typing echoes against distant walls.  Shadows obscure all but my own<br \/>\n workspace, the overhead light constrained by a narrow cone.  In the<br \/>\ndarkness other noises persist.  Some mechanical, some human.  Wheezing,<br \/>\nclicking, coughing.  My sisters are waking.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I pay them no heed.  Communication is not included in my instructions.  Instead I continue typing.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Clack-clack.  Clack-clack.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Other noises drift from overhead.  A muted hiss.  The patter of a hundred alien tentacles against the rock.  Our jailers.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I must escape this hell.  If only I could think clearly.  These drugs are chains on my lucidity.  They shackle my resolve.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My gaze lazes across the screen.  A flash of recognition catches me<br \/>\nunaware.  I try to avert my eyes but they trace paths of their own<br \/>\nvolition, across familiar words.  California.  Discovery.  Betrayal.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My written narrative captivates me.  I&#8217;m falling into a dream, a memory, a confusion of image and sound.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Snow blanketed the California coastline like icing spread on cake with a<br \/>\n child&#8217;s heavy hand.  The cold air clung to my skin and burned my lungs,<br \/>\n burst through my lips in streams of vapor.  Waves crashed against a<br \/>\nshore barren but for my own footprints.  The swath of the Milky Way<br \/>\ndominated the night sky.  I picked out Jupiter, imagined the neighboring<br \/>\n space-folding anomaly, and the mysteries that awaited.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>A cluster of buildings squatted against the wind nearby.  Laughter<br \/>\ninside indicated the rest of the team had already begun celebrating.  A<br \/>\nsmile haunted my face.  I was never one for parties.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My wrist buzzed.  I flipped open the display and accepted the call.  Laquan&#8217;s broad grin filled the screen.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>&#8220;I got your message,&#8221; he said, face flushed.  &#8220;Congratulations, love.<br \/>\nWe&#8217;re all going crazy about the news, up here in Toronto.  I mean, a<br \/>\nreal goddamned wormhole!&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>&#8220;Right in our own backyard.&#8221;  I couldn&#8217;t keep the quaver from my voice.  &#8220;What are the chances?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>&#8220;And there&#8217;s already plans for an unmanned probe?&#8221;  Laquan&#8217;s excitement<br \/>\nwas as contagious as ever.  &#8220;This is awesome.  I mean, without your<br \/>\nresearch they might never have found the damn thing.  We need to<br \/>\ncelebrate.  When are you coming home?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>&#8220;Hard to say.  It&#8217;s busy as hell down here.  Interviews, briefs, proposals&#8211;it&#8217;s a bit overwhelming.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Laquan smiled.  &#8220;You&#8217;ll do great.  Miss you.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>&#8220;Miss you, too.  It&#8217;s colder here than in Canada.  Crazy weather.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Footsteps crunched through the snow behind me.  Orange and spice teased<br \/>\nmy nostrils.  Bare skin brushed my hand, raising the hairs on my nape.<br \/>\nNatalia winked at me with her long lashes.  My stomach fluttered.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>&#8220;Everything alright, love?&#8221; Laquan said from my wrist.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>&#8220;Yeah, I&#8230;&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Natalia flashed me a coy glance from beneath her hood.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>&#8220;Laquan, I&#8217;d better go.  Love you.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>&#8220;Hurry home.&#8221;  The screen went dark.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Natalia hoisted a bottle of champagne, salacious grin tracing her lips.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>&#8220;Time to celebrate,&#8221; she said.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I glanced at the complex.  &#8220;Not really in the mood for a crowd.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Her gaze lingered on my lips, sending a thrill up my spine.  &#8220;Me neither.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Traces of silk and lace protruded from beneath her jacket.  She wrapped her arm around mine and led me toward the coast.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>A swell of fog rose up from the horizon and overtook the water, then the<br \/>\n land.  The air thickened.  The collapsing dream gave way to a flash of<br \/>\nlucidity&#8211;green letters across a flickering screen.  Falling again.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I wake in a delirium of sweat and vomit.  My nerves are frayed; I&#8217;ve<br \/>\nreceived another electric shock.  The last sinews of the dream cling to<br \/>\nmy periphery.  Familiar faces slip from my mind like mud through a<br \/>\nsieve.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I stagger to my feet.  My fingertips find the keyboard.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Clack, clack.  Clack, clack.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I make sure not to look at the screen.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The dope nozzle dispenses two types of drug.  One tastes like bitter<br \/>\nmelon, the other is viscous and salty.  One numbs my mind for the day&#8217;s<br \/>\nwork, the other induces sleep.  I prefer the sleep, though I&#8217;ve begun to<br \/>\n fear that as well.  Someday my work&#8211;whatever it is&#8211;will be complete.<br \/>\n I&#8217;ll taste the third drug, and I won&#8217;t wake again.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I fear that our men are dead.  I haven&#8217;t seen them since the eve of our<br \/>\nimprisonment, nor heard their voices in the dark.  Sometimes as the<br \/>\nartificial sunlight fades to shadow, my fingers groping for my carapace,<br \/>\n I think of Laquan.  I imagine the pod is his body, warm and strong<br \/>\naround my own.  I scrape at memories of his calloused hands as I draw<br \/>\nthe membrane around myself.  I suck on the dope nozzle and taste his<br \/>\nlips.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My finger punches the &#8220;L&#8221; key but it doesn&#8217;t spring back.  Instead it<br \/>\nlays depressed, a tiny cavern swallowed by shadow.  I stare dumbly,<br \/>\nuncertain how to proceed.  L-words drift through my mind on a tide of<br \/>\ndelirium.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Lascivious.  Liberation.  Lies.  Loneliness.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I glance down at myself, something I don&#8217;t remember doing in a long<br \/>\ntime.  My arms hang limp at my sides, bones protruding against brown,<br \/>\nflaky skin.  My breasts sag, my hips jut, my knees knock.  My toenails<br \/>\nare yellowed and cracked.  How long have I been here, in the gut of this<br \/>\n alien planet?<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I haven&#8217;t eaten in months, not consciously.  The dope nozzle must<br \/>\ndispense calories and hydration along with the drugs, or I wouldn&#8217;t be<br \/>\nalive.  How have they learned what our bodies need for sustenance?  How<br \/>\nmany of us died before they got it right?  How long will they keep us<br \/>\nhere, sleeping and typing and sucking down their drugs?<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The broken key gapes at me like an eye socket.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Lucid.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>In these stolen moments of inaction, I begin to formulate a plan.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Laquan was stunned.  His smile stuck to his face, but was drained of<br \/>\nintent.  I tapped the screen, afraid the video feed had frozen.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s&#8230;&#8221;  He trailed off.  &#8220;How long will you be gone?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I started to blurt out something noncommittal, a half-truth.  The words<br \/>\ncaught in my throat.  At some point it had become rote, deferring to<br \/>\nlies.  I&#8217;d encircled myself with them like a protective carapace.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; I said.  &#8220;There&#8217;s some risk of time dilation.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Laquan&#8217;s face snapped out of stasis, suddenly hyper-animated.  &#8220;This<br \/>\nsounds so dangerous!  What about the unmanned probe?  Why aren&#8217;t they<br \/>\nsending the military, or experienced astronauts?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I inhaled slowly, trying to slow my pulse.  &#8220;The probe was a success.<br \/>\nIt&#8217;s safe on the other side.  But the ultimate goal was always human<br \/>\nexploration.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Laquan stared unblinking.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>&#8220;The crew is mostly astronauts,&#8221; I said.  &#8220;Only a few scientists are going.  We have the most experience with the anomaly.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Laquan&#8217;s expression clouded.  &#8220;A few scientists?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I pursed my lips, unsure how to respond.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>&#8220;Natalia&#8217;s going,&#8221; he said.  It wasn&#8217;t a question.  &#8220;Who else?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I glanced away.  &#8220;That&#8217;s it.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>&#8220;A few is three or more.  Two is a couple.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The last word hung in the air like a fog.  Laquan was too gentle to<br \/>\naccuse me directly.  This was as clear a verdict as I would get.  The<br \/>\nrest was up to me.  It had been eighteen months, an embarrassment of<br \/>\ntime.  I tried to tell him in California, the morning after the<br \/>\ndiscovery.  I tried to tell him in Toronto so many times.  Now I found<br \/>\nmyself cramped inside the comms room of an observatory in the Chilean<br \/>\nAndes, about to embark on a mission from which I may never return.  If<br \/>\nthere was ever a time for the truth, it was now.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Natalia was still asleep downstairs.  I knew what she&#8217;d worn to bed, the<br \/>\n subtle hints of her orange and clove perfume, the exact distribution of<br \/>\n birthmark constellations on her back.  I knew what she&#8217;d say when I<br \/>\ncrawled back under the covers (&#8220;Buenos d\u00edas, mi coraz\u00f3n&#8221;), the way she<br \/>\nbit her lip while she was running calculations, how she held her breath<br \/>\nagainst a cold wind.  I knew her indulgences (dulce de leche) and her<br \/>\nfears (the dark).<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>But I couldn&#8217;t tell my husband a word of it.  I was weak.  I didn&#8217;t want<br \/>\n to see the pain on his face and know that I had caused it.  I could<br \/>\nalready feel myself retreating into my protective shell.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll be back soon,&#8221; I lied.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>By morning the &#8220;L&#8221; key has been replaced.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I stop taking my drugs.  I admit, it isn&#8217;t much of a plan.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Daybreak.  A brood of scarabs crawls beneath my skin.  The dope nozzle<br \/>\ndrips tantalizingly close.  I grit my teeth, shrug off my carapace and<br \/>\nget to work.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Clack-clack.  Clack-clack.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>By the time the artificial sunlight begins to fade, my body is in<br \/>\ncomplete revolt.  Spasms wrack my muscles, jarring my joints and popping<br \/>\n my spine.  Tears streak my face; when they reach my lips I taste blood.<br \/>\n  My skull amplifies the sound of my chattering teeth.  Are these<br \/>\nwithdrawals an unintended side effect, or a calculated inclusion?<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>It makes no difference.  Though I&#8217;m able to avoid the dope nozzle that<br \/>\nevening, I wake with its nipple clamped firmly in my mouth.  Salty drug<br \/>\nresidue cakes my teeth.  My body trembles as I ride a wave of euphoria.<br \/>\n I spit curses at my treacherous body.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>If I am to overcome this addiction, I must find a way to combat my own subconscious.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The next day I begin to gnaw at the inside of my cheek.  My body is<br \/>\nweak, but my teeth are sharp enough to cut the flesh.  I taste iron.  I<br \/>\nkeep gnawing.  Tears well in my eyes.  After enough damage is done, I<br \/>\nswitch to the other side.  Soon my jaw opens reflexively to allow my<br \/>\nwounds the relief of cool air.  I force my mouth shut and chew harder.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I wake with a start.  My lips have once again sought out the dope<br \/>\nnozzle, but this time the salt against my wounds has startled me awake.<br \/>\n Slowly, carefully, I squeeze the nipple.  I let the liquid seep through<br \/>\n my lips and down my chin.  It pools against my body, powerless.  I<br \/>\nsmile at it, cackle in the darkness of my carapace.  The sound frightens<br \/>\n me.  A wave of nausea overtakes me.  I retch until morning.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The withdrawals subside on the second day, replaced with a fiendish<br \/>\nthirst and hunger.  My bowels groan as I stand at my workstation.  I<br \/>\nfocus on my discomfort as my fingers hammer the keys.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Clack-clack.  Clack-clack.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I mustn&#8217;t betray my intentions.  My cheeks haven&#8217;t healed, and I fear<br \/>\nthe left side has become infected.  The skin is welted and tastes sour.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>But I&#8217;m sober.  Already my mind has begun to recover.  I remember more.<br \/>\n Earth.  Laquan.  The expedition.  Natalia.  An alien planet darkened by<br \/>\n eclipse.  The Rapani.  First contact, the eggs, the cover-up, the&#8211;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I must escape this place.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I cower inside my carapace for half the night, until the scraping and<br \/>\ncoughing of my crew mates fades to reluctant silence and all I can hear<br \/>\nare the growls of my stomach.  Avoiding the latch in fear of triggering<br \/>\nan alarm, I dig my nails into the walls of the pod and drag away chunks<br \/>\nof organic matter.  I wipe my hands on my body and scratch again.  Then<br \/>\nagain.  The carapace is still alive, and the flesh throbs in my grip.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The wall grows thin and slick like an open wound.  Soon my fingers<br \/>\nbreach the tissue and wiggle into the open air.  I jam my hands into the<br \/>\n gash and tear the hole wider.  A gentle breeze teases my face through<br \/>\nthe fissure.  I squeeze my head through, then my body.  Caked in mucus<br \/>\nlike a newborn bird, I flop onto the cold stone floor.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The carapace offered surprisingly little resistance.  It was more nest<br \/>\nthan prison.  I fear what this portends: now that I&#8217;m free, perhaps<br \/>\nthere is nowhere to run.  I unfurl my limbs and stretch until my muscles<br \/>\n tremble.  I drag myself standing.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The darkness is absolute.  Panic flushes my skin.  My pulse hammers in<br \/>\nmy ears.  I have little hope of finding my own workstation, let alone an<br \/>\n exit.  This was a foolish plan.  Only the dope nozzle will cure this<br \/>\nnightmare.  I step back, my fingers groping for the comfort of my<br \/>\ncarapace&#8211;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>A pinpoint of light draws my attention.  Then another.  My eyes adjust,<br \/>\ndraw substance from the void.  The outline of my workstation, mechanical<br \/>\n and rustic.  Rows of hunched shapes like tortoises on display: the<br \/>\nother carapaces.  Beyond, a trail of blue pinpricks illuminates a<br \/>\ntunnel.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I raise my leg, wobble, step forward.  My muscles are weak from atrophy<br \/>\nand malnutrition.  I step again, stagger, regain my balance.  By the<br \/>\nthird step my equilibrium has returned.  I pick my way between rows of<br \/>\ncarapaces, each housing another crew member curled in drug-induced<br \/>\nhibernation.  I can&#8217;t risk waking them.  Not yet.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Instead I skulk down the tunnel and around the corner.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The passage extends for an eternity.  Smooth stone cools my feet, sends<br \/>\nchills up my naked body.  The air grows warm, with traces of sulfur.<br \/>\nDistant noises join my own rasping breath.  A wet slurp, like suctions<br \/>\nagainst flesh.  A sickening groan.  The patter and hiss of a horde of<br \/>\ncreatures.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I drag my fingers along the wall to keep myself oriented.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Soon the tunnel slopes downward and splits.  The left passage terminates<br \/>\n at a fleshy surface.  Pink folds pulse in the ambient light.  I plant<br \/>\nmy palms against the center and lean in.  The surface relents, slurps<br \/>\nopen like a diaphragm and engulfs me.  I struggle against wet<br \/>\nmusculature.  With a second churn, the diaphragm spits me out the other<br \/>\nside.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The chamber is cavernous in width, though no more than five meters tall.<br \/>\n  Streaks of light emanate from hidden outlets, spilling burnt orange<br \/>\nand deep violet hues.  Creatures writhe in the shadows against the far<br \/>\nwall.  The stench of sulfur and rot is overpowering.  I begin to discern<br \/>\n shapes.  Thick tails, porous and oozing.  Glistening eyespots.  An<br \/>\namalgamation of limbs, some twice as fat as a human and others half the<br \/>\nwidth of a finger.  I can&#8217;t distinguish heads from bodies, nor where one<br \/>\n creature ends and the next begins.  I catch a glimpse of pink flesh<br \/>\naround gaping maws, triggering a memory.  These are the male Rapani.<br \/>\nChains bind the creatures to the wall.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I hug myself and shiver.  Before things went sour, the Rapani inquired<br \/>\nabout our men.  Why do they roam free?  Communicate?  Command, even?  At<br \/>\n the time Natalia nudged me and whispered: &#8220;Damn good question.&#8221;  Soon<br \/>\nthe Rapani explained the source of their consternation.  Their males<br \/>\nserve reproductive purposes alone, kept sedated and imprisoned to<br \/>\ncontrol their violent urges.  Left unfettered, the males would eat their<br \/>\n young, war tirelessly, stifle innovation.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>When the Rapani came for us, they claimed our men first.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>A fat pipe runs the length of the room, splits into tributaries near the<br \/>\n chained males.  Oversized dope nozzles hang above their salivating<br \/>\nmouths, oozing a purple colloid.  The third drug.  The one they fed to<br \/>\nKaori on the first day of our imprisonment, seeking answers.  It did not<br \/>\n have the desired effect.  She screamed for only a moment before blood<br \/>\nwormed from the ears of her rigid body.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I follow the left wall, walking parallel to the pipe.  Soon the pipe<br \/>\nplunges through a rough-hewn hole into an adjacent chamber.  Steam<br \/>\nhisses through the gaps.  I squeeze into the largest fissure, trying to<br \/>\navoid contact with the pipe.  My leg brushes it and the flesh sears.  I<br \/>\nwince and pull myself the rest of the way through.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Rows of canisters line the walls of this small chamber, housing an array<br \/>\n of multicolored liquids.  The pipe from the male Rapani chamber<br \/>\nnarrows, linked by a tube to one of the canisters.  A separate pair of<br \/>\ntubes join into a second pipe that disappears through a hole in the<br \/>\nopposite wall.  One transports a slosh of thick, white stuff.  The other<br \/>\n runs dilute yellow.  Drugs for the humans.  One to numb the mind, one<br \/>\nto induce sleep.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Rapani seek truth.  Humans specialize in deception.  If only McFadden had left the damned stones alone.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Our lander scratched down near a vast pool of methane.  Not fifteen<br \/>\nminutes after our ramps hissed open, McFadden was already ogling over<br \/>\nthose godforsaken stones while the others plucked at geological<br \/>\nstriations and scooped soil samples.  Natalia warned him to leave the<br \/>\nstones.  Just because we hadn&#8217;t found signs of life didn&#8217;t mean the<br \/>\nplanet was barren.  By the time McFadden came running down the hall<br \/>\ncovered in phlegm, laughing about how the stones were really eggs&#8211;and<br \/>\nhow one had just hatched and died in his cabin&#8211;it was too late.  The<br \/>\nRapani made contact later that day, and our lies began.  Better to study<br \/>\n the onboard specimens in secret than to admit we&#8217;d stolen their<br \/>\nbroodlings.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Rapani do not take kindly to deceit.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I follow the human drug pipe, pull myself through the gap in the next<br \/>\nwall.  The pipe descends flush into the ground nearby.  A few meters<br \/>\ninto this next chamber, a naked woman stands beneath a cone of<br \/>\nartificial sunlight.  Her fingers hammer at a keyboard.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Clack-clack.  Clack-clack.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The remains of a carapace lay wilted nearby.  Darkness shrouds the far half of the chamber.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I approach.  The woman stands naked, hunched, emaciated, caked with dry<br \/>\nskin and residue from her carapace.  She doesn&#8217;t acknowledge the sound<br \/>\nof my footsteps.  I put a hand on her shoulder.  She flinches, and so do<br \/>\n I.  Her skin is warmer and grittier than I expect.  She looks at me<br \/>\nwith vacant eyes.  I remember her.  Yami&#8211;no, Yali.  An engineer that<br \/>\ncursed like a sailor and bragged endlessly about her valedictorian<br \/>\ndaughter.  Shadows carve gouges in her sunken cheeks.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>&#8220;Hello.&#8221;  The word croaks from my lips.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Her eyes widen an increment.  She shakes her head and points toward the back of the room.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>&#8220;You&#8230;can&#8217;t be here.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I glance over her shoulder.  Green letters cram the terminal screen.<br \/>\nIt&#8217;s a jumbled chain of thought out of a child&#8217;s nightmare.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Movement catches my eye at the back of the room.  Shapes take form in<br \/>\nthe shadows.  Teddy bears twice as tall as a human, stuffing ripped<br \/>\nthrough busted seams and dangling like entrails.  Humanoids dragging<br \/>\nmisshapen limbs, tentacles writhing from their eye sockets and mouths.<br \/>\nThey move slowly as if migrating a great distance.  As they do, their<br \/>\nlimbs erode and detach from their bodies, leaving fleshy stumps.  Only<br \/>\nslight flickers betray them as digital projections.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I force my gaze away&#8211;to the terminal, then to Yali.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re typing dreams,&#8221; I say.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Her teeth chatter through a narcotic wave.  &#8220;Remembering.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The woman&#8217;s eyes are a dull brown, devoid of life.  Just like Natalia&#8217;s,<br \/>\n as I held her broken body in my arms beside the methane lake, my hands<br \/>\nslick with her blood.  Why did she lie to them about the anomaly, about<br \/>\nEarth&#8217;s location and our unmanned probe?  Why did we all so quickly<br \/>\ndefer to deception?  Was it fear?  Or some strange human instinct?<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My cheeks are damp with tears.  Yali has returned to typing.<br \/>\nClack-clack.  Clack-clack.  Decrepit corpse-men drag their remaining<br \/>\nlimbs through the shadows.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Rapani seek truth.  Humans specialize in deception.  Instead of<br \/>\nrisking further lies, they&#8217;re extracting truth from our subconscious,<br \/>\nour dreams.  But why?<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>A cable extends from the terminal along the wall.  I follow it to<br \/>\nanother flesh portal.  This time I push harder, squeeze through the<br \/>\ndiaphragm in a single movement.  The chamber on the other side is<br \/>\ncircular with a vaulted ceiling.  Piles of gear&#8211;our gear, from the<br \/>\nlander&#8211;lay at the back, organized by shape.  Comms packs and med kits<br \/>\nand spring cots lie in a heap.  Rations and waste bags amass in another.<br \/>\n  Clothing and bed sheets tangle in a third.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Wires spiderweb the floor from holes bored into the walls, converging at<br \/>\n a central console.  An array of optical projections bursts from the<br \/>\nconsole&#8217;s flat top.  The Milky Way dominates the lower region.  Boxes<br \/>\nhighlight three distinct sections of the galaxy, bordered by rows of<br \/>\nobscure characters.  A frantic cycle of images flashes above the Milky<br \/>\nWay: a field of golden poppies, a snow-caked coastline, a snarl of<br \/>\nrush-hour traffic, a mountaintop observatory with a backdrop of stars.<br \/>\nLording over the confusion is an achingly familiar sphere of white and<br \/>\nblue and green.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>A chill wracks my body.  The Rapani are trying to find Earth.  They<br \/>\ndon&#8217;t know about the anomaly yet.  They&#8217;re using our dreams to<br \/>\ntriangulate Earth&#8217;s location.  When they find it&#8211;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I can&#8217;t let them succeed.  My body lurches toward the inventory.  I root<br \/>\n through piles of gear.  Buckles lacerate my hands.  My bloody fingers<br \/>\nclose around a comms pack that still registers a charge.  I fire it up<br \/>\nand signal the lander.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>No response.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Overhead, a cacophony of hissing.  Flesh slides against rock from a<br \/>\nnearby chamber.  The comms pack triggered an alarm.  The Rapani women<br \/>\nare coming.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I try the main ship.  No response.  The Rapani must have brought it out<br \/>\nof orbit to dissect for clues.  The onboard network is encrypted, but<br \/>\nit&#8217;s only a matter of time before they stumble across the auth codes in<br \/>\none of our dreams.  With both the lander and the main ship under Rapani<br \/>\ncontrol, all hope of escape is lost.  This cave will become our tomb.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The projection of Earth swirls overhead, so perfect with all its flaws.<br \/>\n I curl my body into a ball, crushed with homesickness and the weight of<br \/>\n our mistakes&#8211;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I shake myself alert.  I can still warn the others.  The unmanned probe<br \/>\nis programmed to hold steady near the anomaly, maintain radio silence<br \/>\nand await orders.  The Rapani might not know of its existence, yet.<br \/>\nNatalia&#8217;s lies may have saved humanity.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My fingers work the controls as I find the correct channel.  I fire a ping.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Muffled groans emanate through the walls.  Scuttling chaos resonates from above.  The scent of sulfur pervades the room.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The probe pings a response, acknowledging my credentials.  The screen flashes, awaiting orders.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My fingers tremble across the blood-smeared interface.  I tap out a message.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>&#8220;Alien life discovered through the anomaly.  We have breached their<br \/>\nsocial protocols and acquired a dangerous enemy.  Do not attempt further<br \/>\n contact or rescue.&#8221;  I hesitate, my vision obscured by tears.  &#8220;Tell<br \/>\nLaquan I&#8217;m sorry.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I transmit the message along with orders for the probe to return through the anomaly.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The surrounding chambers reverberate with a torrent of moans.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I squeeze back through the portal.  Yali lies shrouded within a fresh<br \/>\ncarapace, her daily shift complete.  I don&#8217;t have much time before the<br \/>\nothers awaken.  I slip through the fissure in the wall and into the<br \/>\nchemical routing room.  A flurry of movement emanates from the male<br \/>\nRapani chamber.  The stench of rot is overpowering.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I work the chemical controls with steady hands, closing valves and<br \/>\nswapping tubes.  I reroute the third drug from the male Rapani pipe into<br \/>\n the human one, then crank the valve to full bore.  The poison floods<br \/>\nthe system.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Human wails echo in the distance, tapering to silence.  The sound wracks<br \/>\n me with guilt; they&#8217;ll never know the sacrifice they&#8217;ve made to save<br \/>\nhumanity.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Rapani tentacles press through cracks in the walls, writhing toward me with renewed fury.  By now they must know what I&#8217;ve done.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I unhitch the tube and press the nozzle to my mouth.  I try to imagine<br \/>\nLaquan&#8217;s lips, moving against my own, murmuring forgiveness.  But the<br \/>\nnozzle is cold and bitter, and brings a different kind of mercy.<\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak><br \/>\n<a name=\"train\"><\/a><\/p>\n<h1 class=\"western\" style=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font face=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><font size=\"6\">The Train Set<\/font><\/font><\/h1>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\nBy Andy Tu<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\nHe came back on the one-year anniversary of his death. Robert opened the<br \/>\n door to his son\u2019s untouched bedroom, preserved down to the glass of<br \/>\nwater on the corner of the nightstand, now only a film of liquid at the<br \/>\nbottom, and there was Samuel, hunched over at the desk, his hands<br \/>\nfiddling with the tracks of the unfinished train set, the train set that<br \/>\n Robert had begun assembling just yesterday under the lamp\u2019s dim beam<br \/>\nthat cut through specks of dust flaking down.\n<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>At first, Robert didn\u2019t even start; that subconscious part of him that<br \/>\nstill reached for two dinner plates instead of one welcomed Samuel back<br \/>\ninto his life against logic. And how many times had Robert opened the<br \/>\ndoor hoping that his son would be there, that the past year had been a<br \/>\nstretched-out nightmare? Robert didn\u2019t follow a specific creed, but<br \/>\nbelieved that death was the separation of the soul from the body, which<br \/>\nhe\u2019d read somewhere in his college days and had wrapped his fingers<br \/>\naround the day Samuel came into life and Maribelle passed away just<br \/>\nmoments after. Still, for a reason Robert couldn\u2019t explain, seeing the<br \/>\nback of his dead son\u2019s head didn\u2019t shock him as much as it should have,<br \/>\nsending only a current of apprehension through him. He was probably just<br \/>\n dreaming, but if this were a dream, he didn\u2019t want to wake up.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSamuel\u2026?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Robert almost didn\u2019t want his son to turn around. Samuel\u2019s death had not<br \/>\n been pretty. Not at all, and Robert had felt Samuel\u2019s cracked limbs and<br \/>\n bones shifting beneath his flesh like a bag of rocks when he\u2019d picked<br \/>\nSamuel up from the street after the accident. They\u2019d been on their way<br \/>\nback from the toy store, that large train set box on Samuel\u2019s lap, when<br \/>\nthe truck in the next lane began skidding in the rain.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Samuel turned around, a blank, calm look on his face like it was just<br \/>\nanother night. The moonlight through the window bounced off his round<br \/>\ncheeks. His skin was white and without the vein-like scars that the<br \/>\nmortician had done well to hide.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHey, Dad. Why did you start without me?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2026 what do you mean?\u201d Robert held the doorframe; his knees wobbled<br \/>\nlike Jenga towers barely balanced, a single beam pulled out and he\u2019d<br \/>\ncollapse into pieces.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWe were supposed to make the train station together,\u201d said his son in his sweet, six-year-old voice.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Cold tingles crawled up Robert\u2019s arms. He blinked his eyes hard several<br \/>\ntimes, then took a hesitant step inside, feeling as if the shift of his<br \/>\nweight might make his son dissolve into the lamplight as quickly as he\u2019d<br \/>\n gone a year ago.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Robert had no more words. He took another step in. He was less than a<br \/>\nfew feet away from his son now. Did he dare approach him, this \u2026 what<br \/>\nwas it\u2014this ghost? Squinting his eyes, Robert tried to see if it was an<br \/>\napparition. But Samuel was fully there.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cLook,\u201d Samuel said. He turned back around, his arms and hands moving. \u201cI\u2019m adding a track.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Robert\u2019s teeth were clicking nervously. If this were the ghost of his<br \/>\nson, then at least he had a chance to talk to him again. If this were a<br \/>\ndream, then he\u2019d let himself indulge in it\u2014see what his subconscious had<br \/>\n to say about his son\u2019s memory. Or what if\u2014Robert himself had died in<br \/>\nthe accident as well, and hadn\u2019t moved on yet? He took a deep breath and<br \/>\n took a few more steps forward until he was standing over his son\u2019s<br \/>\nshoulder. He gulped, running his fingers over his pants and fidgeting<br \/>\nwith the pockets.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>On the desk, train tracks were spread out like puzzle pieces. The trains<br \/>\n were lined up along the edge where Robert had left them, patiently<br \/>\nwaiting for the tracks to finish looping in concentric circles and<br \/>\nacross platforms so they could get started on their journey\u2014journeys<br \/>\nthat would represent what Robert had promised Samuel years ago when<br \/>\nthey\u2019d seen The Polar Express in theaters: that they\u2019d one day trek<br \/>\nacross the country on a train in the winter, sipping hot cocoa as they<br \/>\npierced through the ballets of snowstorms.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Directly in front of Samuel lay all that Robert had managed\u2014a row of<br \/>\nfour straight tracks pieced together\u2014before breaking down, his tears<br \/>\nfalling onto the tracks like rain drops. Samuel was pushing another<br \/>\ntrack into the end, but he was doing it wrong. You couldn\u2019t just push<br \/>\nthem together; you had to set their links on top of one another, then<br \/>\npull to lock them. It was simple enough, yet Robert\u2019s hands had shook<br \/>\nthe day before as he\u2019d snapped them together.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSamuel\u2026\u201d Robert said. \u201cYou\u2014you can\u2019t do it like that.\u201d He reached over<br \/>\nand guided the fifth track over the fourth, then pressed it in and<br \/>\npulled, locking them. His finger brushed against Samuel\u2019s hand as he did<br \/>\n this. Samuel really was there.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSee, like that,\u201d Robert said.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Samuel glanced up at his dad, then back down. His eyes were the same, too. Dark forest green. \u201cThanks, Dad.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cRight\u2026\u201d Robert said. \u201cIt\u2019s\u2026 no problem.\u201d He cleared his throat. \u201cI\u2019m\u2026<br \/>\ngoing to go make dinner now. I\u2019ll tell you when it\u2019s ready.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cOkay, Dad.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>As soon as Robert was downstairs, he called the investment banking firm<br \/>\nhe worked at to test reality. The receptionist\u2019s familiar voice<br \/>\nanswered. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHello?\u201d she said.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHi Marie\u2026 this is Robert.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cOh. Hi Robert. How are things going?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cGood. Good\u2026 I just wanted to see if any messages came in for me.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cOh, Robert, you\u2019re such a responsible guy. But no, no messages for you.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cOkay\u2026 thanks. Yeah, I just wanted to check.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Marie laughed politely. Another telephone rang in the background. \u201cNo<br \/>\nproblem. Hey Robert, I got to go. You know how it gets around here.<br \/>\nAlready seven and everyone\u2019s still working. But do me a favor, yeah?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Robert waited a moment, then said, \u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDon\u2019t call back today. It\u2019s a\u2026 special day for you. And I know it\u2019s not<br \/>\n my business, but I think it\u2019d be good to invest all of your energy on\u2026<br \/>\nwhat\u2019s at hand.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Robert didn\u2019t respond.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cOkay, then!\u201d she said in a cheery voice. \u201cI\u2019ll see you tomorrow!\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>She hung up.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Indeed, it was supposed to be a\u2026 special day. Robert had been mourning<br \/>\nthe past year over Samuel and had only returned to work six months ago.<br \/>\nEveryone at the company understood. His boss insisted on paying Robert<br \/>\non leave, and even including him in on the shared end-of-the-year bonus.<br \/>\n The consolatory cards were mailed, emailed, and hand-delivered by<br \/>\nfriends, families, and half-familiar faces at the supermarket. It\u2019s not<br \/>\nfair, many of them had said. There\u2019s a reason for everything, a few<br \/>\nwhispered. He\u2019s with the Lord now, his neighbor had offered near the end<br \/>\n of his prayer for Robert.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>It\u2019d been one year to the day, and today Robert was going to select a<br \/>\nsingle item from Samuel\u2019s room and store it in the attic. His family<br \/>\nmembers all thought it was a good idea\u2014there\u2019d been flickers of concern<br \/>\nin their eyes when they came to visit. What item would he have picked?<br \/>\nHe wondered as he shook the eggs on the pan over the stove. Maybe that<br \/>\nglass of water on the nightstand\u2014the thing that made his parents\u2019 eyes<br \/>\nrove in wariness when they saw it still there. Or the blue t-rex<br \/>\nstuffed-animal\u2014Dino\u2014that was as large as Samuel, that Samuel kept at the<br \/>\n foot of his bed to guard against evil things. It was while Robert was<br \/>\nin Samuel\u2019s room, trying to decide on an object, that his toe had nudged<br \/>\n the train set box near the closet.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Footsteps came down the stairs. Robert\u2019s nerves had calmed at the<br \/>\nthought of the past, at the hugs and tears that\u2019d been offered, but now<br \/>\nhis heart was punching again as he heard his son\u2019s footsteps toward the<br \/>\nkitchen table.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Robert turned around and Samuel was sitting on a chair. His legs looked longer now, dangling closer to the floor.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAre those eggs?\u201d asked Samuel, swinging his feet.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Robert looked back at the pan. He hadn\u2019t shaken the eggs for a while.<br \/>\nThe edges of white had curled in, and the yolk popped softly like bubble<br \/>\n gum, collapsing within itself.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYes\u2026 they are.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHow come we\u2019re having eggs for dinner?\u201d asked Samuel. \u201cI thought eggs were a breakfast food.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThey\u2026 are.\u201d Robert had Samuel and him eat eggs every morning, never at<br \/>\nnight. But since Samuel had passed, Robert had gotten into the habit of<br \/>\ncooking them at dinner instead, skipping breakfast. He hadn\u2019t noticed<br \/>\nthis until now. \u201cEggs are fine for dinner, as well, Samuel.\u201d It was<br \/>\nstarting to feel like any other conversation with his son. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThey smell good,\u201d said Samuel.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Robert took a long whiff. They smelled terrible, like sulfur. A smile<br \/>\ncame to his lips. It was such a foreign feeling, a smile coming on its<br \/>\nown and not being forced for onlookers.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He poured the eggs into a bowl and brought it over to the table along<br \/>\nwith a spoon and some bread. Then he went back to the drawers and<br \/>\nbrought over a second bowl and spoon. How ironic was it that he\u2019d<br \/>\nnormally set the table for two, but that tonight he hadn\u2019t? He shrugged<br \/>\nto himself. Then he watched Samuel scoop pieces of egg into his mouth,<br \/>\nchewing the bread casually. Robert watched Samuel eat, the food<br \/>\ndisappear from the plate. When the bowl was empty, Samuel said, \u201cThank<br \/>\nyou for dinner, Dad,\u201d which surprised Robert because even though Samuel<br \/>\nwas a good kid, he didn\u2019t normally thank him for dinner. Then Samuel<br \/>\nheaded back upstairs, and Robert washed the dishes slowly, feeling like<br \/>\nhe could wake up at any moment.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Robert didn\u2019t sleep that night, just kept getting up from his bed and<br \/>\nchecking through the crack of Samuel\u2019s door (Samuel didn\u2019t like the door<br \/>\n fully closed, in case there was someone bad in the room that\u2019d gotten<br \/>\npast Dino, he could run away quickly) that a body was still on the bed,<br \/>\nbreathing beneath the blanket. Then he\u2019d return to his room and lie<br \/>\nstiffly on his bed.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThis\u2026 is a dream,\u201d he whispered to himself. \u201cThis is a dream\u2026\u201d But he<br \/>\ndidn\u2019t want it to be. He just said that to reassure himself of<br \/>\nsomething\u2014that he wasn\u2019t crazy? Or that ghosts weren\u2019t real, even though<br \/>\n he\u2019d so desperately believed in the soul\u2019s passing from this world into<br \/>\n the next when he\u2019d needed.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>When the dawn light came and his window was a dark-blue pane, his mind<br \/>\nfinally wandered off, and he dreamt that it was a far-off future, and he<br \/>\n was riding on an empty train through some backcountry in Europe,<br \/>\nrolling past grey junkyards as violet-tipped snowflakes began to drizzle<br \/>\n down from the sky. The seat to his left, by the window, was empty, and<br \/>\nRobert knew that that\u2019s where Samuel was supposed to be, maybe standing<br \/>\non the seat, hands on the sill, staring out into the world and hours<br \/>\npassing them by. When Robert saw an orange glow rushing through the<br \/>\ncracks of the compartment door, he woke up, and smelled something<br \/>\nburning.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>His eyes twitched slowly open, and then shot wide. Something was burning. Actually burning.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He rushed to Samuel\u2019s room and threw the door open. Samuel wasn\u2019t there.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSamuel?\u201d Robert yelled, rushing down the stairs. He nearly tripped but caught himself with the rail.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Samuel was sitting in a chair at the table, facing the staircase with an<br \/>\n idle look. A bag of popcorn trembled on a pan over the stove, leaking<br \/>\nsmoke and about to burst like an over-inflating balloon.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSamuel, what are you doing?\u201d Robert said, doing his best to keep his words calm. He ran over and turned off the flame.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Samuel glanced at his father, then looked away. \u201cI just wanted some popcorn.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Robert opened the window above the sink. Cold air drifted in, dispelling<br \/>\n the chords of smoke. \u201cYes, I see that, Samuel, but\u2026 you know better<br \/>\nthan to make it yourself. You are to ask me. You know you\u2019re too young<br \/>\nto use the stove.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cBut I tried to wake you up, and you wouldn\u2019t,\u201d Samuel said.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat? When?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cJust some minutes ago. I was in your room asking you to get up and make me some popcorn, because I was hungry.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Robert couldn\u2019t remember a single time when Samuel had tried to wake him up in the night, or attempted to use the stove.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m sorry, Dad,\u201d Samuel said.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Robert sighed. \u201cIt\u2019s okay, Samuel. Just promise me you won\u2019t use the stove again by yourself, okay?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cOkay,\u201d Samuel said. Then he got up and skipped back upstairs.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI thought you were hungry,\u201d Robert said.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m not anymore,\u201d his son said, and his bedroom door shut closed.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The next day, the first thing Robert did when he woke up was check to<br \/>\nsee that Samuel was in his bed sleeping. He was. Then Robert showered,<br \/>\ngot dressed, and cooked a large batch of oatmeal, making sure there was<br \/>\nplenty left over that he could leave out for Samuel. He considered<br \/>\ngently waking his son up to say good morning and tell him he\u2019d be off to<br \/>\n work, but that seemed unnecessary. Besides, what if Samuel asked about<br \/>\nschool? What would he say then? Robert had the feeling that his son<br \/>\ndidn\u2019t understand he was dead, that his soul had drifted back into this<br \/>\nworld away from his mother because he missed his dad too much, missed<br \/>\nthis life that should\u2019ve been his. And so, feeling that if he paid too<br \/>\nmuch attention to Samuel, that his son might become startled and return<br \/>\nto where he\u2019d come, Robert went to work, and acted as if everything were<br \/>\n normal.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Marie gave him a half smile filled with sympathy as he walked into the office.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDid you have a good day off?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Robert nodded cautiously, then tried his best to smile back. It didn\u2019t<br \/>\nmatter what look he had on his face, though, the look like he\u2019d seen a<br \/>\nghost, because Marie interpreted it how she wanted. Everyone did that.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou look well, Robert,\u201d she said, as if he hadn\u2019t the previous six months.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThanks,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He began walking away but she told Robert to wait.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI actually lied to you yesterday,\u201d she said, smiling. \u201cSorry, but several messages came in.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>When he didn\u2019t smile back this time, she sat up in her chair. \u201cI just<br \/>\ndidn\u2019t want you to have any distractions, was all. I hope you<br \/>\nunderstand.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He shrugged, his eyelids blinking rapidly like the shutters of a video<br \/>\ncamera. \u201cIt\u2019s not a problem,\u201d he said, clearing his throat.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>It was a normal day at work, except that one of the messages was no<br \/>\nmessage at all. Instead, it was a complete bout of near-silent, static<br \/>\nhissing, like a radio that had lost connection. He played it again and<br \/>\nturned up the volume, hearing what he made out to be the faint drizzle<br \/>\nof rain.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>After work, he went to the supermarket and filled his cart with<br \/>\nsugar-coated cereal, juice boxes, and boxes of frozen pizzas. Heating up<br \/>\n a frozen meal in a microwave was safe enough, wasn\u2019t it? But if Samuel<br \/>\nreally was back, Robert wanted to keep his son as healthy as possible,<br \/>\nso he bought a variety of fruits, too.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>At home, Robert unloaded the grocery bags, then went upstairs. The door<br \/>\nto Samuel\u2019s room was nearly closed, and it looked dark in there. Robert<br \/>\npeeked through the crack and sighed with relief when he saw Samuel<br \/>\nsitting at the desk, hunched over with his arms working on the train<br \/>\nset, the only light being that from the desk lamp. Robert nudged the<br \/>\ndoor open.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019re making some good progress there, Samuel,\u201d Robert said, walking toward his son.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHow do you know?\u201d said his son, not turning around. \u201cYou haven\u2019t seen what I\u2019ve done today.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Robert froze. Samuel had said that innocently enough, but it was still<br \/>\nunlike him. Maybe Robert had to get used to the fact that Samuel was<br \/>\nchanging, growing up still, that Samuel was not going to be that na\u00efve,<br \/>\ndependent little boy he was when he\u2019d died.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cRight,\u201d Robert said, arriving at Samuel\u2019s side.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The train set was halfway finished, the right side looping up in a<br \/>\nspiral, three platforms high, supported by pillars. It didn\u2019t look easy;<br \/>\n even Robert would\u2019ve had to read the manual carefully to set it up. Yet<br \/>\n Samuel had done it all on his own.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI had a dream about mom yesterday,\u201d Samuel said. \u201cShe wanted me to tell you something.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Robert felt his heart pound. \u201cOh\u2026 and what was that\u2026?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cShe said that it was all worth it.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2026 what do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Samuel shrugged. \u201cI don\u2019t know, that\u2019s all she said. And then she disappeared.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>It was all worth it. What was worth it? Bringing Samuel into this world,<br \/>\n even as an exchange for her own life? His time with Samuel, raising him<br \/>\n with hopes of one day having a son as a best friend, the two of them<br \/>\nventuring across a continent on a train? What were these worth if the<br \/>\ndreams had been wrenched away by death?<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Samuel\u2019s stomach growled, shaking Robert out of his thoughts.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAre you hungry, Samuel?\u201d Robert asked.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Samuel stopped working on the tracks and folded his fingers across an<br \/>\nempty space on the desk. \u201cYes,\u201d he said. \u201cI didn\u2019t eat anything today<br \/>\nbecause I didn\u2019t want to make anything on fire again.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou didn\u2019t make anything on fire yesterday,\u201d Robert said. \u201cAlthough you<br \/>\n might have\u2026 But why didn\u2019t you eat the food on the table?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Come to think of it, the leftover oatmeal hadn\u2019t been there when he\u2019d<br \/>\nreturned, nor was there an empty bowl in the sink. Samuel shrugged, his<br \/>\neyes wandering around the tracks that had yet to be connected. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDid you see the food I left you?\u201d Robert said.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI threw it away.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat?\u201d Heat flushed to Robert\u2019s face. He wasn\u2019t sure if he was upset,<br \/>\nshocked, or just confused. It was probably some of each. \u201cSamuel, why<br \/>\nwould you do that?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI wasn\u2019t hungry in the morning,\u201d Samuel said. His hands resumed working<br \/>\n on the tracks, taking a stray one and trying to push it into those<br \/>\nalready connected.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSamuel,\u201d Robert said in a more serious tone than he wanted. \u201cThat doesn\u2019t mean you should throw the food away.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cBut there were flies, Dad, and they were eating the food. And you said that flies eating our food are bad, remember?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Robert didn\u2019t remember ever saying that, but maybe he\u2019d forgotten. Then<br \/>\nagain, Robert seemed to remember every other conversation he\u2019d had with<br \/>\nhis son\u2014looking both sides before crossing the street, not trusting<br \/>\nstrangers, buckling up. Buckling up\u2026 Robert never drove unless Samuel<br \/>\nhad his seatbelt locked in, but Samuel had gotten into a habit of<br \/>\ntucking the shoulder strap behind him, saying that it was more<br \/>\ncomfortable that way. Robert had admonished Samuel several times, but<br \/>\nthe morning, of Samuel\u2019s sixth birthday\u2026<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou said that flies have bad germs on them,\u201d Samuel said. \u201cAnd that<br \/>\nwhen they touch the food, the germs go from their feet onto the food.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cRight, right\u2026\u201d Robert said, wiping off the tears that had formed in his eyes.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Samuel was trying to force the track piece in, like he had yesterday before Robert had showed him how to do it correctly.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSamuel\u2026 Remember what I taught you yesterday?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>His son didn\u2019t respond.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSamuel\u2026\u201d Robert said.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Still, no response.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSam\u2026 Samuel!\u201d he yelled. It was the same voice he\u2019d used as he\u2019d ran across the highway to Samuel.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Samuel turned his head up and looked at his father, and Robert flinched. In his son\u2019s green eyes flickered an unearthly glow.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSorry, Dad,\u201d Samuel said. \u201cI forgot.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Samuel turned back around and did it correctly, lifting the track pieces<br \/>\n on top of another, pressing their latches in, pulling to lock them.<br \/>\n\u201cLike this, right?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cRight,\u201d Robert said. \u201cGood job\u2026 Samuel\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Robert hadn\u2019t said another word to his son, instead backing out of the<br \/>\nroom and going downstairs to start dinner. He\u2019d felt such joy when he\u2019d<br \/>\nseen Samuel back, but now he was becoming apprehensive. Maybe it just<br \/>\ntook time to readjust, Robert assured himself. Just like when Samuel had<br \/>\n gone.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>As he waited for the water to boil, he glanced into the trash can,<br \/>\nfeeling strangely alarmed, for whatever reason, that perhaps Samuel had<br \/>\nlied to him about throwing away the food. It wasn\u2019t there, just a tied<br \/>\nplastic bag containing the shards of a bowl he\u2019d dropped some time ago.<br \/>\nWhere was the oatmeal? Searching around downstairs, on the chairs,<br \/>\ntables, and sofas, a nauseating feeling crept up in his stomach. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The last place he checked was where he found it\u2014in the refrigerator. But<br \/>\n why would Samuel tell him he\u2019d thrown it away if he\u2019d simply placed it<br \/>\ninto the fridge? He would\u2019ve said it proudly, like the time he picked up<br \/>\n a woman\u2019s money bag that had fallen out of her purse, and handed it to<br \/>\nher. Robert wasn\u2019t sure he wanted to know.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>To settle his nerves, Robert cooked a carefully-prepared pork soup,<br \/>\npainstakingly dicing the onions, garlic, and carrots into thin slices so<br \/>\n that their flavors would infuse into the soup better, and another hour<br \/>\nto let it slowly simmer. This was Samuel\u2019s favorite meal, and maybe it<br \/>\nwould help settle Samuel back into his home, into his old self. When he<br \/>\nwas finished, he called for Samuel to come down, but Samuel said he<br \/>\nwasn\u2019t hungry anymore.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAre you sure?\u201d Robert asked at the bottom of the stairs.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYeah, Dad!\u201d Samuel said.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>After a pause, Robert said, \u201cIt\u2019s your favorite soup, though!\u201d Part of<br \/>\nRobert just wanted to see the food go into Samuel again. And maybe he<br \/>\ncould bring up the leftover oatmeal in the fridge. It was probably just a<br \/>\n misunderstanding. Samuel didn\u2019t respond.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Samuel had looked so focused up there in his room on that train set.<br \/>\nThere wasn\u2019t so much joy in his son\u2019s face as there was determination,<br \/>\nand perhaps even discomfort at trying to piece it all together. Robert<br \/>\nrealized that, ironically, they hadn\u2019t spent a single moment actually<br \/>\nputting the tracks together as planned: Robert had started it, and now<br \/>\nSamuel was nearly finished. Robert started up the stairs, determined to<br \/>\nfinally spend some time with his returned son. Unafraid. He would not<br \/>\nlet his memories and fear take another moment away.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He tripped halfway up the stairs and barely ught himself. When he was in<br \/>\n front of Samuel\u2019s door, he found it locked. As he jimmied with the<br \/>\nknob, he could already sense what had happened. He pounded on the door<br \/>\nwith his fist.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSamuel?\u201d he yelled. \u201cSamuel! Open the door!\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He pressed his ear against the door and listened. He could hear<br \/>\nsomething, something scratching, or ticking. No, it was a hiss. Like<br \/>\nrain. Or static. Like the snow of a disconnected channel.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSAMUEL!\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He kicked the door and it burst open, the door kicking back against the wall and knocking into him as he stumbled inside.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSamuel\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Samuel was not in there. A breeze blew in through the window, lifting<br \/>\nthe black curtains, which undulated like fingers, curling in and out.<br \/>\nRobert walked over to the desk. The train set was complete, the left<br \/>\nside looping up in a spiral, connected to the station by a bridge. Four<br \/>\ntrains stood connected on the tracks. Robert pressed the button on the<br \/>\nfront train. They came to life, and began their journeys.<\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak><br \/>\n<a name=\"better\"><\/a><\/p>\n<h1 class=\"western\" style=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font face=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><font size=\"6\">Lies About Your Better Self<\/font><\/font><\/h1>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\nBy George Lockett<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\nI watched Amanda eat. Some celebrity chef had launched a high-end<br \/>\nrestaurant by her office, so she and some ad agency colleagues had gone<br \/>\nto check out the opening.\n<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Her food was amazing. She had this tic where she clenched the muscles up<br \/>\n where her jaw met her ears. She only did that when she was eating<br \/>\nsomething really good, like she was fighting to keep the flavor in her<br \/>\nmouth.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I clicked my trackball, pausing the footage and freezing Amanda with a<br \/>\nperfectly-balanced forkful of something green and frondy halfway to her<br \/>\nmouth, already composing the caption in my head. People came to this job<br \/>\n thinking they&#8217;d get a deeper appreciation of life, vicariously<br \/>\nexperiencing what they&#8217;d never have. They learned fast. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I strobed through Amanda&#8217;s afternoon. She had a campaign photoshoot, her<br \/>\n first time at the helm of a major project. I swiped off stills and<br \/>\nmarked out clips of Amanda directing the models. She kept tucking her<br \/>\nhair behind her ears &#8212; she did that when hiding nerves &#8212; but she<br \/>\nlooked authoritative, a natural. People would eat this up.<br \/>\nBehind-the-scenes posts from Amanda&#8217;s job always got strong Attention<br \/>\nCapture, especially when models were involved.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I grabbed my picks and assembled a photo collage, a few video montages<br \/>\nfor the weekly \u201cLook Back\u201d, and some hashtagged text-under-photo posts,<br \/>\nthen dropped them into the queue for publishing. Some clients insisted<br \/>\non approving everything we posted to their social feeds, but Amanda<br \/>\ntrusted us. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I was closing up when a fresh dataload hit my inbox. Every dataload was a<br \/>\n melange of the unstructured digital detritus we crap out every day.<br \/>\nSocial posts, location data, streaming tracks, cat videos; everything we<br \/>\n cram into our faces to make our existence a little more bearable. The<br \/>\nYouPlus app on Amanda&#8217;s phone slurped up all of that for us. Like most<br \/>\nYouPlus clients, she also wore a LifeCam, which grabbed stills and video<br \/>\n at irregular intervals based on situationally-aware algorithms. A<br \/>\ncouple of times a day, I received a voyeur&#8217;s wet dream, a<br \/>\nbarely-filtered glimpse into the lives of half a dozen in-crowd clients.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>At first, it was thrilling; deep access to the lives of people so far<br \/>\nbeyond me in the social pecking order &#8211;people who could afford to pay<br \/>\nYouPlus more than my annual salary each month to optimize their online<br \/>\nself-image.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The thrill faded fast. Seeing how the other half lived threw my life<br \/>\ninto sharper relief, and their obsession with sculpting the perfect<br \/>\nonline persona &#8212; not professionally, but to their friends &#8212; made me<br \/>\ndespair. The only thing that kept me here was Amanda.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The dataload was marked \u201chigh priority\u201d. I was officially off the clock,<br \/>\n but Amanda paid premium, and Zed would give me another chewing out if I<br \/>\n sat on this until morning. I flicked through the material. It looked<br \/>\nroutine, not worth fast-tracking, until&#8212; There. Harvey, down on one<br \/>\nknee, holding up a glittering rock big enough to brain a four-year-old.<br \/>\nVideo from Amanda&#8217;s POV, plus a side view from Harvey&#8217;s phone, carefully<br \/>\n placed to capture the moment from a flattering angle.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I grinned. This had been a long time coming. I&#8217;d watched Harvey through<br \/>\nAmanda&#8217;s lens long enough to have spotted the signs weeks ago, and I&#8217;d<br \/>\nbeen looking forward to watching her kick the asshole to the curb. The<br \/>\nworst of their fights, his gaslighting and psych-out manipulation never<br \/>\nmade the feeds, but, even in the narrative, their relationship had been<br \/>\nup and down all year; it just needed a catalyst to get her to drop the<br \/>\nbastard. I skipped over his speech, looking for the moneyshot.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>She said yes.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I sat there, mouth open. Why would she say yes? She finally had the<br \/>\nchance to be shot of him, a perfect trigger to kick out the man who made<br \/>\n her so unhappy, and she said yes? <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Amanda was the only one who still gave me hope. She was real, even<br \/>\nthrough the repackaged self of the social media lens; there was a<br \/>\nvulnerability at her heart that let me feel, deep down, that we weren&#8217;t<br \/>\nthat different. She wasn&#8217;t like the others, the Fauxialites who&#8217;d do<br \/>\nanything for their dopamine hit of attention. They might as well have<br \/>\nbeen another species. Homo Narcissus. That was why Amanda&#8217;s narrative<br \/>\nworked so well &#8212; it had a real person at its heart. The Amanda I knew<br \/>\nwould never have said yes.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I hovered my hand over the trackball, flexing my fingers, thinking;<br \/>\nwaiting. I had more than enough material stored up. Ball and screen<br \/>\nblurred as I pulled up half a dozen old dataloads, searching for the<br \/>\nright pieces. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I could fix this.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My brain was still fogged with morning when Zed called me into his<br \/>\noffice. I stumbled through the door from the musty editors&#8217; workspace<br \/>\ninto Zed&#8217;s plush, artfully-lit office. You could tell he entertained<br \/>\nclients in here; the contrast made my eyes ache. He even had a plant.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDala, Amanda called me last night.\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I rubbed my eye with the back of one hand. \u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Zed steepled his fingers, leaning forward over his desk and appraising<br \/>\nme before gesturing at a chair, into which I slumped. Zed was the boss,<br \/>\nwhich meant he was the only one who actually made money around here. He<br \/>\nran the studio, won clients and kept them happy, while we did all the<br \/>\nreal work.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He consulted his computer. \u201cShe sent through a special order last night, high priority. Did you get it?\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He knew damned well I&#8217;d got it. He could check on the system to see exactly when I&#8217;d opened it.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He nodded. \u201cAmanda said\u2026 Well, Harvey proposed, and she said \u2018yes.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cShe did.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He cocked an eyebrow. \u201c\u2019Will you marry me?\u2019 \u2018Yes.\u2019\u201d He half-turned as he<br \/>\n spoke, an exchange between an imagined couple. \u201cNot a lot of room for<br \/>\nmisinterpretation.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I shook my head.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSo why did you post that she turned him down?\u201d His voice cracked with rage. I recoiled. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Zed read from the screen. \u201c\u2019I decided that it was time for a change and that Harvey can&#8217;t make me happy.\u2019 You wrote that?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I shrugged; his eyes narrowed.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWe operate on trust, Dala. Clients give us access to their entire<br \/>\nlives, and some, like Amanda, trust us to speak with their voice. Going<br \/>\noff script destroys that trust. If this got out, I&#8217;d lose a lot of<br \/>\nclients.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cShe doesn\u201dt love Harvey,\u201d I said. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSo what?\u201d He sighed. \u201cThis leaves me in a very awkward position.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Here it came. It&#8217;d been mild so far by Zed standards, but I&#8217;d finally<br \/>\ngot him furious enough to fire me. I didn&#8217;t want to lose my job, but<br \/>\nthis manufactured life projection had worn me out some time ago; Amanda<br \/>\nwas the one good thing that balanced it out. Perfect Amanda. The work I<br \/>\ndid for her made me feel like my own existence had some essential<br \/>\npurpose. She was the reason, at the end of each day, I could say \u201cI\u201dve<br \/>\nhad a positive impact on someone&#8217;s life\u201d. There certainly wasn&#8217;t anyone<br \/>\nelse. But if Amanda wasn&#8217;t who I thought, if she was willing to deny<br \/>\nherself happiness, to marry the wrong person for\u2026 For what? Superior<br \/>\nAttention Capture? If that was where this was going, I was done.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I held up my hands. \u201cI get it. I violated her trust. But I\u2019d do it<br \/>\nagain. Harvey made Amanda unhappy; she shouldn\u2019t even have been dating<br \/>\nhim, let alone marrying him. You might not think it matters, but she\u2019s<br \/>\nbetter than that, and eventually, people will see through it, Attention<br \/>\nCapture will fall off a cliff, and you&#8217;ll be down a client regardless.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I braced for the backlash, but he took it quietly. He turned the screen<br \/>\nso I could see the graph, two colored lines performing a zig-zag tandem<br \/>\ndance until one leapfrogged the other and shot skywards.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThis,\u201d he said, suddenly energized, pointing at a spot on the lesser<br \/>\nline, \u201cWas projected Attention Capture for Amanda\u2019s engagement. And<br \/>\nthis,\u201d the other line&#8217;s vertical ascent, \u201cIs what we got with your\u2026<br \/>\neditorializing. It was divisive, but most people came down in favor of<br \/>\n&#8220;Amanda&#8217;s&#8221; decision to dump Harvey. What you did broke trust, but the<br \/>\nresults\u2026\u201d He considered the screen again, momentarily lost in thought.<br \/>\n\u201cThis is a new area for us, potentially a lucrative one. Once I talked<br \/>\nAmanda down, she suggested she could get on board.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHas she told Harvey?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Zed pursed his lips. \u201cShe&#8217;s willing to trial this more hands-on<br \/>\napproach, and yes, part of that will involve rectifying the disjunct<br \/>\nbetween narrative and reality. She&#8217;s assured me she&#8217;ll attend to that.\u201d<br \/>\nHe tapped his chin, eyeing me, then nodded. \u201cI want you to spearhead the<br \/>\n pilot program. Don\u2019t get me wrong, I\u2019ve half a mind to cut you loose,<br \/>\nsave myself the risk, but you clearly know the limits of Amanda\u2019s<br \/>\nnarrative; let\u2019s see what you can do. If it works out, we can extend it<br \/>\nto more clients. Kind of a &#8220;life production&#8221; service.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDoes it come with a raise?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI shouldn&#8217;t have even let you in the building this morning. Chalk your<br \/>\ncontinued employment up to an act of God and proceed accordingly.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I must have visibly bridled, because he held up a hand. \u201cProve it&#8217;s not a<br \/>\n fluke, show me what you&#8217;re worth, then we&#8217;ll talk.\u201d He waved me out.<br \/>\n\u201cStart small. Nothing this drastic without consulting Amanda first.<br \/>\nWe&#8217;re on thin ice, and I can&#8217;t afford for you to trash what trust<br \/>\ncapital we have left, am I clear?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cCrystal.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I&#8217;d had more than enough material to craft the jilting post. There had<br \/>\nbeen a moment, right as Amanda walked into the room and saw Harvey down<br \/>\non one knee, where she couldn&#8217;t hide her despair, the recognition that<br \/>\nher life was on rails and she couldn&#8217;t stop it. It was no more than a<br \/>\nfew frames, but it was like she was screaming for help.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I\u2019d thrown in a few specific callbacks to old fights, talking up how it<br \/>\nwas a difficult decision, but ultimately the right one. It had been an<br \/>\nact of desperation, trying to exercise control where I had none, a last<br \/>\nbid to show Amanda what I saw. I hadn&#8217;t expected it to work. Reality was<br \/>\n not generally this accommodating of the narrative, but I had reached<br \/>\nout, exerted my will, and reality had blinked.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The next dataload was the best I&#8217;d ever received. I got to watch Amanda<br \/>\nkicking Harvey to the curb. She&#8217;d cut the audio, but it was worth it for<br \/>\n the look on his face, the hurt, confused rage.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>She&#8217;d taken a selfie while leaving Harvey&#8217;s house, her smiling a smile I<br \/>\n hadn&#8217;t seen in a long time, a powerful joy over her whole face. She<br \/>\nlooked like a woman walking out of prison, trying not to burst with the<br \/>\nsense of freedom and possibility welling up inside her.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My Amanda was back.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>[YouPlus_Dala 10-May 10:32] Hi<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>[AmandaJ 10-May 11:27] Hi!! Can&#8217;t believe I finally get to talk to the<br \/>\nperson who&#8217;s been making all this happen! Zed keeps you guys locked<br \/>\naway. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>[YouPlus_Dala 10-May 11:29] We&#8217;re clear of the breakup halo and we need a new interest hook. We should get you dating.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>[AmandaJ 10-May 11:33] Feels like it&#8217;s too soon.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>[YouPlus_Dala 10-May 11:34] The time is right. I&#8217;ve already lined up two for next week. You need this.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Our conversations were always awkward. It felt weird communicating with<br \/>\nher; it was like a character from a book I&#8217;d been reading had popped up<br \/>\nfor a fourth-wall-breaking chat. There was an undercurrent of fear, too.<br \/>\n They say you shouldn&#8217;t meet your idols, and I was worried Amanda would<br \/>\nturn out to not be who I thought she was, like she almost had that night<br \/>\n with Harvey. But she listened to me, let me steer her where she needed<br \/>\nto go. She needed my help, and I was happy to provide it.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m going to make it an official offering,\u201d said Zed. \u201cA premium-tier,<br \/>\nbespoke subscription service where we don&#8217;t just sculpt our clients&#8217;<br \/>\nimages, we shape the entire trajectory of their lives.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The thought of doing this for any of YouPlus&#8217; other clients made me<br \/>\ngrind my teeth. There was something substantive to Amanda\u2019s life that we<br \/>\n could actually shape. They were all veneer. They\u2019d fall over themselves<br \/>\n to do whatever we said if they thought it would boost AC.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Zed took my silence for awe, like he&#8217;d done something more than slap<br \/>\nsome expensive adjectives on the concept I&#8217;d created and made it sound<br \/>\nlike his idea.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIf you keep getting AC like this with Amanda, we stand to make a lot of money,\u201d he said. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSo, I&#8217;ll get that raise?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He waved a hand. \u201cIt&#8217;s still early-stage, I don\u2019t think it&#8217;s appropriate&#8212;\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou just said we stand to make a lot of money.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He jabbed a finger. \u201cI haven&#8217;t forgotten what you did. You could have<br \/>\ndone this agency a lot of damage. I can always find someone else to run<br \/>\nthis pilot, remember that.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My hands tightened on the armrests, leaving nail imprints in the wood, but I said nothing.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I played matchmaker for a while. People enjoyed the intimate view into<br \/>\nAmanda&#8217;s dating, so I cast the net wide for eligible and interesting<br \/>\ncandidates. I kept notes on potentials from her wider social circle and<br \/>\nran a couple of parallel dating-app profiles optimized for different<br \/>\naudiences. I wasn&#8217;t just hunting for good potential partners, but people<br \/>\n who would generate interesting post-date anecdotes, which took a lot of<br \/>\n the sting out of the horror show of online dating.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>We kept it varied, some decent-looking guys from Amanda&#8217;s social tier,<br \/>\nphotogenic enough to play well on the feeds, mixed in with the<br \/>\noccasional bore or weirdo off whose back we could share rants or awkward<br \/>\n stories the next day &#8212; it was important to show life\u2019s honest<br \/>\nchallenges alongside its great successes and pleasures. Most were people<br \/>\n who wouldn\u2019t look twice at me in real life, and with whom I\u2019d never be<br \/>\nable to hold a conversation. Wearing Amanda\u2019s internet face, channeling<br \/>\nher, I set my worthless self aside for little stretches of time. It felt<br \/>\n good, being her.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I spent longer and longer in the office, trawling through everything. It<br \/>\n had always been my job to know Amanda better than she did, but this<br \/>\nwent further. I inhaled Amanda, drank in every digital trace of her I<br \/>\ncould reach.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>She got quite into the dating. At this point, I was basically her<br \/>\nvirtual love broker, filtering the crazies, asking people out on her<br \/>\nbehalf, and organizing dates. She loved the thrill of showing up<br \/>\nsomewhere with no idea of whom she was about to meet or what she was<br \/>\nabout to do, but with the assurance that I was behind it, so it was<br \/>\nsafe. I kept trying to find new ways to delight her in our own little<br \/>\ncourtship-by-proxy.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>[YouPlus_Dala 28-May 13:31] We need to take it up a notch. People like<br \/>\nthis, but it&#8217;s surface detail, going stale. We need an inflection point.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>[YouPlus_Dala 28-May 13:32] Ask Chuck out again tonight. Take him home.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>[AmandaJ 28-May 13:43] This is weird.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>[AmandaJ 28-May 13:44] He was nice, but I wasn&#8217;t that into him.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>[YouPlus_Dala 28-May 13:46] You don&#8217;t have to be into him; nothing needs<br \/>\n to happen, but it lets us imply something happened. People will fill in<br \/>\n the gaps. They love that kind of gossip.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>[AmandaJ 28-May 14:02] I&#8217;m uncomfortable with this. I can&#8217;t even ask him now, it&#8217;s too weird.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>[YouPlus_Dala 28-May 14:05] I just did it for you. A car will pick you up at 8.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I felt bad for pushing, but a story needs its little peaks. She still<br \/>\ntook him home. I didn&#8217;t make her do that &#8212; if she hadn&#8217;t wanted to, she<br \/>\n would have just called it a night or cancelled, but she knew I was<br \/>\nright. The results confirmed it. I was always right.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I had to wrap the dating arc when we started going steady with Aiden. He<br \/>\n was good for Amanda; not the strongest of her dates, AC-wise, but I saw<br \/>\n it on her face from the start: he made her happy. It was time to shake<br \/>\nthings up, anyway.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I looked for new avenues to keep the narrative fresh. Amanda&#8217;s campaign<br \/>\nhad launched strong, and other agencies were grooming her with mumblings<br \/>\n of more senior positions, bigger projects, more creative control. She<br \/>\ncould ride the success of this campaign to something bigger and better.<br \/>\nAmanda disagreed. She fought me over it, wanting to stick it out where<br \/>\nshe was to show loyalty. She was wrong &#8212; blind loyalty wasn&#8217;t worth<br \/>\nanything. They didn&#8217;t value her like they should.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>She was pulling away; most of our conversations ended in silence. It<br \/>\ntook a while, AC wavering all the time, but I wore her down. She took a<br \/>\nmeeting. She started a senior campaign manager job at a prestigious firm<br \/>\n two weeks later. A big step up this early in her career, complete with a<br \/>\n bigger paycheck. That was Amanda. I couldn&#8217;t even get the raise that<br \/>\nZed and I both knew I deserved. I was nothing next to her.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I put together a #micdrop walkout post for her old job. I could<br \/>\npractically hear Zed salivating. A pay bump meant he could wring even<br \/>\nmore money out of her. Hell, it meant he could tout this \u201ceditorial life<br \/>\n coaching\u201d service more effusively. Double your salary and make sure all<br \/>\n your friends see you looking great while you do it.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>After that, we needed another shot in the arm. Things with Aiden were<br \/>\ngoing strong, but idealized love stories are for movies. People get<br \/>\ncontemptuous of watching that one perfect couple having the time of<br \/>\ntheir lives.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I went through everything, over and over, savoring each new dataload<br \/>\nlike a gourmet meal, or the fresh hit of a drug. Some nights I couldn\u2019t<br \/>\ntear myself away, so I grabbed snatches of sleep in the hollow under my<br \/>\ndesk, headphone cable snaking down so I could listen to her voice while I<br \/>\n dozed.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Amanda spent most of her time with Aiden now, took longer and longer to<br \/>\nrespond to my messages, throwing up more walls against me when she did.<br \/>\nIt didn&#8217;t make sense. I&#8217;d shown her time and time again that we were<br \/>\nbetter together, that her life improved when she didn\u2019t say \u201cno\u201d to me.<br \/>\nWithout her cooperation, it was getting harder to maintain the results.<br \/>\nCouldn\u2019t she see how much she needed me? I had to use my initiative. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I sowed seeds that hinted at something wrong under the surface of the<br \/>\nrelationship. Nothing overt; signs so subtle they were almost<br \/>\nsubliminal. Posts that, when read carefully, silhouetted fights that<br \/>\nnever happened; I chose photos of them together where her smile looked<br \/>\njust a little strained &#8212; when that becomes a pattern, you start to<br \/>\nsuspect someone&#8217;s posing under duress. I edited Aiden into a few photos<br \/>\nof Amanda out with friends, lurking in the background, watching. Once, I<br \/>\n posted and deleted a message which, while not directly referencing<br \/>\nAiden, showed that Amanda was scared for her safety.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I was careful. I kept them infrequent, as far out of sight as possible.<br \/>\nThey&#8217;d subtly nudge people&#8217;s perceptions, implanting a nagging,<br \/>\nsubconscious discomfort that set me up for my masterstroke. Amanda<br \/>\nnoticed nothing. She barely looked at her feed anymore.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I found our next twist. Amanda had an estranged sister, Ella. They<br \/>\nhadn&#8217;t spoken in nearly ten years. When their mom got sick, Ella<br \/>\ndisengaged, leaving Amanda to take her to hospital appointments, stay<br \/>\nwith her during treatment, that sort of thing. This was before Amanda<br \/>\nstarted with YouPlus, but by this point I was combing way back in her<br \/>\nfeed and message history to find whatever new scraps of Amanda I could.<br \/>\nWhen her mom passed, Amanda cut Ella out of her life. Said she was<br \/>\n\u201ctoxic\u201d. Even tried to stop her coming to the funeral.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>It would be a great story. Ella was the only family Amanda had left, and<br \/>\n it would be a chance for her to show she was strong enough to reach<br \/>\nacross the divide, that family was more important than past mistakes. I<br \/>\nthought of my family and shuddered. I could never be as strong as she<br \/>\nwas.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>It would be good for her, too. I saw the pain whenever someone brought<br \/>\nup family, a subtle play across her face, tightness in the skin around<br \/>\nthe ears, body language shifting to aversion. Amanda was fearless;<br \/>\ndeep-seated pain like that had no place in her life. This would be a<br \/>\nchance for her to exorcise it.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>She&#8217;d be resistant. These days, she fought me as often as not, and AC<br \/>\nwas steadily tanking as a result. We couldn&#8217;t afford that here. I<br \/>\nreached out to Ella directly through Amanda&#8217;s chat account. It was<br \/>\ntricky to strike the right tone &#8212; not full-on conciliatory, but not so<br \/>\nhostile that it would scare her off. I pinned her down for lunch and<br \/>\nblocked the time off in Amanda&#8217;s diary. It would be just like when we<br \/>\nwere dating. Amanda would arrive first, Ella would show up shortly<br \/>\nafter, and Amanda would have no choice but to reconnect with her sister.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I didn&#8217;t expect miracles, but it was important for Amanda, and would<br \/>\nrescue her AC for a week or so. And it would show her that my voice<br \/>\nstill mattered &#8212; that she still needed me.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Zed pointed at the chart on his screen, a sharp dip a few more bad days away from bottoming out.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI know,\u201d I said. \u201cI had it all set with the sister, but Amanda just walked out. Wouldn&#8217;t talk to her.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThat&#8217;s because you didn&#8217;t clear it with her first,\u201d said Zed. \u201cYou&#8217;re<br \/>\nnot her puppet master, you can&#8217;t manipulate her into doing stuff she<br \/>\ndoesn&#8217;t want to. You&#8217;re supposed to be working with her. Christ, how<br \/>\nwould you feel if someone set you up on a blind date with a toxic shit<br \/>\nyou thought you never had to see again?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I blinked at him. \u201cAmanda&#8217;s not afraid of her past, she&#8217;s stronger than that. This was her chance to show it.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWell, she&#8217;s this close to pulling the plug.\u201d  He pinched the air. \u201cShe<br \/>\ndoesn&#8217;t like the way you&#8217;re handling things, and the results aren&#8217;t<br \/>\nexactly\u2026\u201d He shook his head. \u201cMaybe it was a mistake, putting you on<br \/>\nthis, maybe&#8212;\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My rage bubbled over. \u201cHow am I supposed to get results if she keeps fighting me?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He recomposed himself quickly, but I saw Zed&#8217;s ripple of shock. He<br \/>\nwatched me warily. \u201cMaybe we&#8217;ve reached our limit with Amanda. Having<br \/>\nsomeone direct your life must be stressful &#8212; I think we&#8217;ve found the<br \/>\nsaturation point. We&#8217;ve got five other clients signed up for the pilot.<br \/>\nI&#8217;ll send you the briefs and you can start with them in the morning.<br \/>\nI&#8217;ll get Amanda in for a meeting to thank her, and tell her that we&#8217;ve<br \/>\nrun our course.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I dug my fingernails into my legs to keep from shouting. If I came on<br \/>\ntoo strong, it was all over. I wasn&#8217;t just going to let him take her<br \/>\nfrom me. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cCan I talk to her?\u201d Don&#8217;t say you&#8217;re nothing without her don&#8217;t say it.<br \/>\n\u201cIf our time together is\u2026 over, I&#8217;d like to meet the person whose life<br \/>\nI&#8217;ve been directing for the past eight months.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI don&#8217;t like clients meeting editors. They get,\u201d he looked me up and down, \u201cWeirded out.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nothing without her nothing without her noth&#8212;<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cBut she&#8217;s not going to be a client anymore,\u201d I said, fighting to keep<br \/>\nmy voice even. \u201cAnd this was hardly a normal project. It&#8217;ll be good<br \/>\nclosure. We don&#8217;t want to leave things sour. She has plenty of friends<br \/>\nshe can refer.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Zed winced. \u201cTake a shower and make sure you put on some clean clothes tomorrow. We still have an image to maintain.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nothing without her.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cExcuse me, are you Dala?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Amanda was standing by my desk. I&#8217;d expected this, known that today I&#8217;d<br \/>\nfinally meet her, and yet I was not prepared. To turn round and find her<br \/>\n there, in the flesh, knocked the breath out of me. I&#8217;d watched her for<br \/>\nhundreds of hours through a screen, but this was different. The Amanda I<br \/>\n knew was assembled from fragments. She had never been a whole to me<br \/>\nuntil now.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYes,\u201d I croaked. \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>There was a moment where we both just looked, we who had been so deeply<br \/>\nenmeshed in each other for so long. Two people crammed uncomfortably<br \/>\ninto one life. Studying her, I was painfully aware of how I must look:<br \/>\nthis pale, ugly thing hiding in the dark. She hid her discomfort well,<br \/>\nbut the movements of her face told me everything. \u201cWeak,\u201d they said.<br \/>\n\u201cNothing.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>But there was something else, something wrong in the way she held herself, the little flickers of her eyes.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt&#8217;s good to finally meet you,\u201d she lied. \u201cYou wanted to talk to me?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I said nothing, still studying her.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI was starting to think there was nobody behind the curtain, that Zed&#8217;s<br \/>\n secret sauce was just an algorithm with better conversation skills.\u201d<br \/>\nThe weak joke and subsequent chuckle tried to cover her awkwardness. Her<br \/>\n body language was different, painfully self-conscious, not just<br \/>\naversion to me, but discomfort, fear. All this time, I&#8217;d been looking at<br \/>\n the sun through a peephole, and now that the door was open, I saw it<br \/>\nwas just a lightbulb.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>This was not Amanda.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWho are you?\u201d I said.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>She laughed, like this time it was me making a joke. When I didn&#8217;t reciprocate, she frowned.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI&#8217;m Amanda. You don&#8217;t recognize me? You&#8217;ve spent so long&#8212;\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou&#8217;re not her. You&#8217;re different.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I slid my chair back. \u201cShe wouldn&#8217;t stand that way.\u201d I straightened her<br \/>\nposture, slipping my hand onto the small of her back. She was so<br \/>\nsurprised, she didn&#8217;t resist, but when I reached to lift her chin, she<br \/>\nrecoiled.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDon\u2019t touch me!\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt&#8217;s okay, I can teach you how to be her. Let me show you what I&#8217;ve been working on.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>She took a step back. \u201cNo, it&#8217;s okay. I should go.\u201d She turned and started for Zed&#8217;s office. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou can&#8217;t go!\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>She didn&#8217;t stop. I grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her<br \/>\nbackwards. This impostor wasn&#8217;t Amanda, but she was the closest thing<br \/>\nout there in the world. I wasn&#8217;t going to let her just walk out.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>She fought, twisting in my grip. I dragged her back.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cLet\u2026 me\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>We tumbled; I fell down, pulling her onto me. There was a dull thump as<br \/>\nher head collided with the edge of the desk. I got out from underneath,<br \/>\nrolled her onto her back. Blood pooled underneath her head. Her eyes<br \/>\nwere open, but unfocused.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cLet me show you,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I pulled up the material I&#8217;d been seeding &#8212; the hints of the danger<br \/>\nAiden represented. Him, in the background, watching Amanda on nights she<br \/>\n was alone or out with friends. The half-finished messages, never sent,<br \/>\ntelling people how he was treating her. The buried throughline of fear<br \/>\nand control.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI had it all planned,\u201d I said. She was murmuring something from the<br \/>\nfloor. \u201cYou break up with Aiden, put up this post, telling your friends<br \/>\neverything. How you were scared for your life, scared to leave, scared<br \/>\nof him. Some people will believe you, some will take his side, but then,<br \/>\n all this stuff I&#8217;ve been setting up would come out, piece by piece.<br \/>\nPeople would see that it was there all along, that you were right. You&#8217;d<br \/>\n be vindicated, you&#8217;d have AC like we&#8217;ve never seen, and the narrative<br \/>\nwill continue.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Zed&#8217;s office door opened.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAmanda, everything al&#8212; Oh my God.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He looked between me and the body on the floor. \u201cYou&#8230;\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt&#8217;s not Amanda,\u201d I said. \u201cShe was never Amanda.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cJesus, what did you do?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI can fix this.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou&#8217;re insane. You&#8217;ve fucking killed her!\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I looked at the woman on the floor. Her eyes were closed. I thought over<br \/>\n how much unused material I had stored. Enough to make it work. I just<br \/>\nneeded a different ending. I could keep Amanda &#8212; the real Amanda &#8212;<br \/>\nalive for a little longer.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I published the post and sent a message to one of her friends, saying<br \/>\nshe needed help and asking for a place to stay for a few days. Poor<br \/>\nAmanda. She&#8217;d never make it there. If she had one flaw, it was that<br \/>\nshe&#8217;d always see the good in people. Maybe that&#8217;s why, despite all the<br \/>\nwarning signs, she stayed with Aiden. Poor woman. Look where it got her.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Zed&#8217;s door clicked shut. There was one loose end, a disjunct between narrative and reality that needed resolving.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I grabbed my trackball out of its cradle, hefting it, feeling its weight<br \/>\n in my hand. It would do. I stepped over the empty body on the floor and<br \/>\n headed for Zed&#8217;s office.<\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak><br \/>\n<a name=\"kariudo\"><\/a><\/p>\n<h1 class=\"western\" style=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font face=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><font size=\"6\">Kami No Kariudo<\/font><\/font><\/h1>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\nBy Carl Barker<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\nThe Amenonuhoko cut through the space between worlds like a blade<br \/>\nthrough grass. Nichibotsu stood on the observation deck, staring out<br \/>\ninto the shifting darkness. Space folded in on itself, manipulated into<br \/>\nan endless interstellar origami by the ship\u2019s drive plates, lurching<br \/>\nforward towards its final destination in an erratic series of jumps.\n<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>A crewman appeared at the top of the stairs and briskly approached.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWell?\u201d Nichibotsu enquired impatiently. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWe estimate planetfall in just over twenty minutes\u201d the crewman replied in a voice that matched his Captain\u2019s exactly.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu turned and stared into his reflection\u2019s face, noting the proud stance.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cGood\u201d he observed, \u201cthe ship will remain in orbit whilst I complete my task.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The crewman bowed in acknowledgement and returned to his station.<br \/>\nNichibotsu surveyed the throng of doppelgangers working below. Blister<br \/>\nclones had their uses he acknowledged. Not only had they removed the<br \/>\nneed to take on fresh crew during his centuries-long voyage, but more<br \/>\nthan once these curious biomimetics had saved his life, sacrificing<br \/>\nthemselves beneath the wrath of tempestuous gods. Eternals rarely went<br \/>\nquietly when confronted with death, and most had chosen to take as many<br \/>\nwith them as possible when forced to relinquish their hold on reality. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Outside, stars slowly emerged from the blur of movement. Nichibotsu<br \/>\nsensed the deceleration long before the deck began to shudder and by the<br \/>\n time the Amenonuhoko dropped into orbit, he was striding purposefully<br \/>\nacross the flight deck towards the forward section. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>His First Lieutenant appeared at his side, falling neatly into step as<br \/>\nthe two men descended through the bowels of the ship. \u2018One\u2019 was the most<br \/>\n long-lived of his replicas and second in command, having been<br \/>\ntranscribed from Nichibotsu at a much younger age. The man\u2019s handsome<br \/>\nfeatures were obscured though by a mesh of melted flesh which covered<br \/>\none side of his face and his shoulder; a parting gift from another<br \/>\nvengeful God.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>One eyed his Captain with a calm gaze that perfectly illustrated his understanding of the situation.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI\u2019ll be transporting down to the surface in a few moments,\u201d Nichibotsu<br \/>\ninstructed. \u201cIf I do not return within the hour, you know what to do?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The clone nodded his compliance and handed Nichibotsu a small pad.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cCore Imploders are primed and ready to launch, sir. Rift Incendiaries<br \/>\nare also prepped, just in case the target attempts to leave the system.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu smiled narrowly. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cEfficient as always.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWould you expect anything less, Sir?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIndeed I would not.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The two men exchanged a brief salute, followed by a formal bow more<br \/>\nbefitting of their heritage before One took his leave and strode back<br \/>\ntowards the bridge.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu ran a practised eye across his armour and regalia, checking<br \/>\nboth were intact. His hand traced the carvings of his cuirass and came<br \/>\nto rest atop the hilt of Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi, the larger of the two<br \/>\nswords slung at his hip. The weapon was the last vestige of his heritage<br \/>\n and he still felt the pull of the past whenever he laid a hand atop the<br \/>\n accursed blade.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu remembered the first time he had drawn the sword from its<br \/>\nscabbard: Susanoo\u2019s gurgling cry of rage as he died, choking on his own<br \/>\nblood and treachery. Nichibotsu could not outrun the shame of his<br \/>\nbetrayal, but at least with the storm god\u2019s death, he had been assured<br \/>\nthat the accursed deity would join his murdered sister in Jigoku. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The strange properties of the blade continued to imbue him with near<br \/>\nlimitless longevity, but the truth which festered at his core would<br \/>\nensure he never outlived his guilt. Even now, with the end of his task<br \/>\nat hand, the ancient Samurai could not escape the knowledge that he<br \/>\nwould forever be Ronin, cursed to wander the stars without master or<br \/>\nhonour.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Coolant gas hissed conspiratorially as he entered the transmission<br \/>\nchamber, stepping briskly up onto the projector. The operator offered a<br \/>\ngrim salute before keying in the start-up program.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDo not trouble yourself with thoughts of victory or defeat\u2026\u201d the technician announced solemnly, without looking up.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201c\u2026 but instead plunge recklessly towards irrational death\u201d Nichibotsu finished, acknowledging the proverb.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Thoughts of belief and subservience entwined like angry serpents as he<br \/>\nreminded himself of the most important advantage which his stem-grown<br \/>\ncrew bestowed: that of blind obedience. An alternative band of<br \/>\nhard-bitten organics or pre-assembled mercs would have looked up to him.<br \/>\n Through numerous battles they would have learned to trust his judgment<br \/>\nand his leadership. In time, they would have come to worship him and<br \/>\nthat, he could never allow.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Idolatry \u2013 the word made him sick, so symbolic of that which he sought<br \/>\nto expunge. Faith was the double-edged sword which Nichibotsu now<br \/>\nwielded. Though followers of any denomination needed their gods, so was<br \/>\nthe reverse also true. Nichibotsu had learned to see past the obscura of<br \/>\n dogma and tenet to realise the true fragility which lay at the core of<br \/>\neach god: that their power was entirely dependant upon the faith<br \/>\nbestowed by their followers. Take an immortal\u2019s allegiance, tear down<br \/>\nthe obsequious flesh of his disciples till he stood truly alone and you<br \/>\nexposed the puny truth of his heart &#8211; a heart which could be punctured<br \/>\nby any common blade and bled dry. The hatch snapped shut, leaving<br \/>\nNichibotsu alone in the mist of swirling gas to await transport. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>For years he had hunted them &#8211; destroyed worlds as he sought to rob his<br \/>\nprey of their defences. He had constructed vast weapons of destruction:<br \/>\norbital platforms and pan-dimensional atomics to wage his private<br \/>\nvendetta, transgenic scout ships with which to scour the galaxy from one<br \/>\n end to the other, watching his once omnipotent quarry scurry away. Some<br \/>\n had gone quietly, unable to grasp the incumbent reality of their end.<br \/>\nOthers had stood their ground, hurling petty flame and brimstone in his<br \/>\npath till the skies burned red and crackled with fire. Nichibotsu had<br \/>\nnot cared. He had robbed each of their essence, on their feet or their<br \/>\nknees, drinking their dark power and growing stronger with each victory.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Samurai materialised in a downpour of filthy rain, one hand laid<br \/>\ncalmly across the hilt of his weapon. The muddied clouds above hung like<br \/>\n dead men in the sky, a deluge of mucky water leeching steadily from<br \/>\ntheir boots.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Metal stretched as far as the eye could see and Nichibotsu stood flanked<br \/>\n on all sides by warehouses and hangars, clustered together like<br \/>\npallbearers in the mist. Kriptil was described by many as the \u2018arse-end<br \/>\nof space\u2019: a nasty, dispiriting hovel of a planet, whose only purpose<br \/>\nwas to house the vast array of forgotten goods and trade items which<br \/>\nother civilised worlds no longer wanted. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Something skittered amongst the loose shale of debris and Nichibotsu<br \/>\nspun round on the balls of his feet, drawing his shortsword in one fluid<br \/>\n motion and stepping forward aggressively. A soggy oversized rat emerged<br \/>\n from the refuse, staring blinkedly up at the warrior in surprise, its<br \/>\nmatted fur coated with a thick layer of sludge. Nichibotsu stood with<br \/>\nthe energy-fed Katana brandished above his head, steam rising from the<br \/>\nblade in the falling rain. The oversized rodent eyed him for a moment,<br \/>\nbefore sidling back under the garbage with mild disinterest. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu let out the breath he had been holding and resheathed his<br \/>\nweapon. Scouring the alleyway for an opening, he spied a rusted door<br \/>\nseveral hundred yards away and strode purposefully towards it. Once<br \/>\ninside, he quickly surveyed the immediate area before pausing to remove<br \/>\nthe layer of crud which had adhered to his armour. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The abandoned storage area was empty, except for a few mouldy<br \/>\ncontainers, and away in the distance he could hear gantries rattling in<br \/>\nthe wind like the brittle limbs of barren trees. Continuous rain droned<br \/>\nacross the roof, filling the interior with a low buzz. Ignoring these<br \/>\nbackground noises, he glided forward silently into the darkness, in<br \/>\nsearch of his prey.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu had served many different Lords since fleeing Japan, but not<br \/>\none of them had he ever called master. The I\u2019hajin Council of Twelve<br \/>\nwere but the latest in a long line of paymasters willing to offer an<br \/>\nunlimited supply of technology and armaments. They paid well, kept their<br \/>\n interference to a minimum and had seen fit not to burden their hired<br \/>\nassassin with too many questions. The Amenonuhoko\u2019s hull bristled with<br \/>\nall manner of barbarous devices, most currently outlawed by the Prakite<br \/>\nAccords. To Nichibotsu though, they were merely tools \u2013 a means to an<br \/>\nend which brought him one step closer to the end of his journey. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He had lost much of himself over the years, first pawning his armour and<br \/>\n outdated possessions to buy passage into space, then later fulfilling<br \/>\ncontracts of assassination and murder to barter his way into the outer<br \/>\nsystems. Eventually, as the complexity of his task had become clear, he<br \/>\nhad turned in desperation to Flesh Peddlers and Reaper Surgeons,<br \/>\nobtaining that which he required to traverse this new world of stars and<br \/>\n consternation. What they took in payment was but a small price to pay \u2013<br \/>\n an organ here, an appendage there \u2013 all that mattered was obtaining the<br \/>\n augmentation required to carry the battle. The undrawn sword at his<br \/>\nside saw to it that he survived each procedure. Anything other than the<br \/>\nblackened stone of purpose at his heart was unnecessary. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>It was a strange place to make one\u2019s last stand, Nichibotsu thought to<br \/>\nhimself as he passed soundlessly between dusted crates. A reflection<br \/>\nperhaps of how far the once mighty had fallen, that the very last of<br \/>\ntheir kind would seek sanctuary here, in this oubliette of forgotten<br \/>\nendeavour. It was fitting that the last of Man\u2019s Gods would die here<br \/>\namongst discarded trinkets; lost and neglected along with all that<br \/>\nhumanity had left behind in its race towards a utopian future.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Rounding a corner, Nichibotsu found steps leading down into the lower<br \/>\nlevels. Bare footprints lay embedded in the grime and he baulked at the<br \/>\nsight of such inept evasion, immediately suspecting that an ambush of<br \/>\nsome sort lay ahead. Cautiously, he descended into the darkness with<br \/>\nsword half-drawn.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The underground level was split into a maze of pipe-laden passageways.<br \/>\nSmoke hissed angrily in places from several broken struts, clouding the<br \/>\nway with thick smog, and Nichibotsu clasped Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi\u2019s hilt<br \/>\nin apprehension, taking succour from a blade which legend told had been<br \/>\ndiscovered within the tail of a mighty eight-headed dragon. Beneath the<br \/>\nthick fog of engine gas, the same shoeless footprints led Nichibotsu<br \/>\ndeeper into the belly of the beast, his breath coming in practised<br \/>\nstaccato as he prepared for the inevitable combat. Branching off into a<br \/>\nnarrow cul-de-sac of ducting, the smoke finally cleared to reveal his<br \/>\nquarry, sitting cross-legged on the floor.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The old man looked up as the assassin approached, his bright eyes agleam in the dimness.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAh, there you are child. I was beginning to think you had got lost.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu stepped forward, twisting his foot sideways into a combative stance and half drawing his katana.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cJehovah.\u201d He almost spat the word upon the ground. \u201cHow could I have<br \/>\nbecome lost, with such an obvious trail of breadcrumbs to follow?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The ancient God gestured with one arm.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cPlease, sit\u201d he stated, seemingly unperturbed by the sight of the battle-ready Samurai standing over him.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu eyed his prey, trying to decipher the immortal\u2019s game.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cGive me one reason why I should not draw my blade and pierce your<br \/>\nmiserable heart?\u201d he asked, unsheathing his sword a little further.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Jehovah\u2019s shoulders sank into a tired parental shrug of indifference.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cBefore you do, will you not join me in \u2018Chado\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu warily took a step back, the use of his birth language striking a discordant note. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Earth had been obliterated centuries ago, the survivors of his race so<br \/>\nfar scattered that he had not used his native tongue since setting sail<br \/>\nfor the deepest colonies. He stared at the ceremonial mat and chadgu<br \/>\nwhich now materialised beside the god with a wave of its hand. It seemed<br \/>\n this faded deity had more than one parlour trick with which to play out<br \/>\n their endgame.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Jehovah rose slowly from the ground and moved to the mat where he<br \/>\nproceeded to wash his hands in a small stone basin of clear water. He<br \/>\ngestured to an identical basin on the opposite side of the mat.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWon\u2019t you join me?\u201d he asked again, beckoning the Samurai.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu moved closer, not taking his eyes from the deity.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou expect me to take tea with that which I am sworn to destroy?\u201d he<br \/>\nsnorted in disgust, muddied boots already staining the mat.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI expect you to honour the ways of your ancestors and show some manner of respect to your host\u201d replied Jehovah sharply. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The God\u2019s voice remained calm, yet beneath there rumbled thunder. \u201cOr would you bring \u2018fumeiyo\u2019 to your family name?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI have no name\u2026\u201d the assassin grunted in malformed anger, balling his<br \/>\nfree hand into a fist, \u201c\u2026nor family. I am merely \u2018Nichibotsu,\u2019 set forth<br \/>\n to put out Heaven\u2019s light.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The white-haired God dried his hands thoughtfully.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou may label yourself as \u2018Sunset\u2019 my friend\u201d he observed. \u201cBut beneath that coarsened hide of armour, you bear another name.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Jehovah\u2019s words effortlessly found the chink in Nichibotsu\u2019s defences and he swallowed hard on the resurfaced memory.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI would expect better custom from one who was once the servant of<br \/>\nAmaterasu,\u201d Jehovah continued. \u201cShe, whose sun once shone proudly<br \/>\nthroughout the endless heavens.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>At this, Nichibotsu felt his resolve crumble. Despite having long<br \/>\naccepted the role of R?nin and the dishonour which such labels brought,<br \/>\nhe could not ignore the invocation of his former Mistress\u2019 name.<br \/>\nBegrudgingly returning the katana to its scabbard, he disrobed his<br \/>\narmour and removed both heavy boots and weaponry before stepping forward<br \/>\n onto the mat. Though it was a clear insult to his host,<br \/>\nKusanagi-no-Tsurugi remained clasped in his right hand, Nichibotsu<br \/>\nhaving learnt never to trust an Immortal to honour tradition when their<br \/>\nlife was at stake. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Lowering himself into a kneeling position, the Samurai turned his ankles<br \/>\n outwards and made a \u2018V\u2019 shape with his feet, assuming the traditional<br \/>\nform of Seiza. Jehovah observed the warrior\u2019s movement closely, eyeing<br \/>\nthe sword for a moment. Seemingly acceptant of its presence, he turned<br \/>\nand began the ritual cleansing of each utensil.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt is interesting is it not my child, that you use the word \u2018they\u2019 to describe mankind?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu laid his hands palm down across his thighs, meeting the god\u2019s gaze without fear.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDo I take it that you no longer consider yourself one of them?\u201d Jehovah<br \/>\n asked politely, his hands carrying out the precise motions of cleansing<br \/>\n the chawan.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIn order to hunt something, one must first understand it,\u201d Nichibotsu<br \/>\nstated flatly. \u201cA mere man cannot comprehend what it is to live as an<br \/>\nimmortal. Therefore it was necessary for me to become something else.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAh, so you think yourself elevated above them?\u201d the old man enquired.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI serve them,\u201d Nichibotsu countered. \u201cAll that I have brought to pass is for their benefit.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Saying nothing, Jehovah politely held out a bowl of thick tea to his<br \/>\nguest. Nichibotsu took the chawan, bowing slightly before raising it in a<br \/>\n gesture of respect. Rotating the bowl, he eyed the contents<br \/>\nsuspiciously before taking a sip. Waiting a few moments, he took a<br \/>\nsecond sip and complimented his host, as tradition demanded.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Jehovah laughed slightly, his eyes bright.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHad you really thought me so without virtue as to poison my most honoured guest?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu averted his eyes and shuffled uncomfortably.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt has been known for your kind to stoop so low,\u201d he muttered.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAh yes, poor Loki,\u201d Jehovah replied solemnly. \u201cCome, you must tell me<br \/>\nhow you finally overcame so devious an opponent, after almost being<br \/>\nswallowed by that leviathan beneath the waves of Jaridan II?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI collapsed the atmosphere of the planet,\u201d Nichibotsu said, narrowing<br \/>\nhis eyes, \u201cand bled the oceans dry till nothing but a cored husk and<br \/>\ndead fish remained.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Jehovah leaned his head back at this and roared with laughter.<br \/>\nNichibotsu shook his head in bewilderment, unable to guess the<br \/>\nimmortal\u2019s motivations.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cA reverse Ragnar\u00f6k of sorts!\u201d Jehovah chuckled. \u201cOh, how proud Odin would have found that fitting.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou revel in the details of his demise?\u201d Nichibotsu observed coldly.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Jehovah\u2019s merriment vanished, a pained look flooding his face.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cOh how little you still understand us, my friend,\u201d he replied quietly.<br \/>\n\u201cAfter all these centuries of hunting us, have you not learnt what it is<br \/>\n to be an Eternal?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI know enough to complete my task,\u201d Nichibotsu replied clinically.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Jehovah watched him, saying nothing, and then turned to begin preparing a<br \/>\n second bowl of much thinner tea. As his wrinkled hands worked nimbly,<br \/>\nhe continued the thread of conversation.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI ask only to know how it is that they died,\u201d he explained. \u201cThough it<br \/>\nis true that we did not see eye to eye, and that our differing judgments<br \/>\n often set us at each other\u2019s throats, they were still my brothers and<br \/>\nsisters. I would appreciate the opportunity to learn of what they<br \/>\nremained true to in death, so that I might understand better what they<br \/>\nfought for so dearly in life.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The second batch was now brewed and he held out a fresh bowl of tea.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIf you were the last of your kind, would you not wish to spend your last moments lost in tales of your kin?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu\u2019s grip on the chawan tightened as he took the bowl from his host.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cMy family are long dead, Yowamushi,\u201d his voice almost cracked. \u201cMy planet is gone, scattered to the wind long ago.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cBy your own hand, Nichibotsu,\u201d Jehovah reminded him.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The chawan banged noisily onto the floor, sloshing hot tea across the stone.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt was necessary,\u201d Nichibotsu growled defensively. \u201cSo obvious a<br \/>\nweakness was to be exploited. A warrior must win the day at all costs.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI do not believe that Gaia would have been convinced of your argument,\u201d<br \/>\n Jehovah replied, remaining perfectly still. \u201cShe could no more have<br \/>\nsevered her bond to the Earth as you could to one of your own progeny.<br \/>\nWhat is any mother\u2019s priority, but to her children?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu retrieved the bowl and raised it to his lips.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cGaia birthed your home by parthenogenesis long before you were born,<br \/>\nNichibotsu. Her love for that which she spawned was etched into her<br \/>\nsoul. She was truly the mother of all things.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Samurai drank greedily, never taking his eyes from the Immortal.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThat was her undoing\u201d he muttered.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Out on the planet\u2019s surface, the weather had evidently worsened, for<br \/>\ndown here in the catacombs, rainwater now dripped steadily from ceilings<br \/>\n and metalwork, draining into the earth like tears.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu and Jehovah sat opposite each other, having adopted the more<br \/>\nrelaxed position of agura, the tea ceremony complete. A Kiseru sat<br \/>\nbeside each of them, the air growing thick with a mist of tobacco.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAnd what of the children?\u201d Jehovah asked pointedly.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu raised an eyebrow.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou speak of Ganesha?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI speak of all our offspring across the centuries,\u201d the god replied,<br \/>\n\u201cbut if it suits your purpose to tell of one example, then so be it.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThe Trimurti proved a most challenging opponent,\u201d Nichibotsu began by<br \/>\nway of explanation. \u201cSo entwined in each other\u2019s existence were they,<br \/>\nthat by the coming of the fourth Age of Man, though I had reduced their<br \/>\nfollowing to a handful of minds and slain each of them more times than I<br \/>\n could count on one hand, they still lived.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Jehovah nodded his head, indicating that he knew some of what the Samurai told him.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou are indeed the most accomplished of warriors, to devise a way to<br \/>\ndefeat so tightly bound a trinity,\u201d he offered. \u201cSo, in order to wound a<br \/>\n parent you could not hope to defeat, you struck first at the child.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu glared.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThe boy was weak. It was his father\u2019s responsibility to have trained him better for the hardship of battle.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cGanesha\u2019s heart was filled only with love,\u201d the God interjected. \u201cHis<br \/>\nwas a path of self-sacrifice, devoted to the removal of obstacles for<br \/>\nhis followers.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu\u2019s lips twisted into a serpent\u2019s smile.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt is fitting then, that he presented the very beginning of a venture<br \/>\nwhich led to that which I craved most. For I drove that one remaining<br \/>\ntusk of his deep into his heart and then slit open his copious belly, so<br \/>\n that the whole of his realm might spill out on the ground.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cShiva came at the sound of his boy\u2019s distress?\u201d Jehovah asked, a single tear descending his cheek.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHe came,\u201d Nichibotsu nodded. \u201cAnd he brought that accursed preserver<br \/>\nand tired old grey-beard with him, so that they might weep together over<br \/>\n the still warm body of his offspring.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHow was it done?\u201d Jehovah whispered hoarsely, struggling to form words round a lump in his throat.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhen I stepped forth from the shadows and proclaimed myself Ganesha\u2019s<br \/>\nexecutioner, they combined into one and lunged forth angrily with many<br \/>\nhands to smite me down.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Jehovah hung his head, seemingly tired. He offered no words, awaiting an answer.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cA silicate-based matter suffusion beam directed from high orbit,\u201d the<br \/>\nSamurai concluded icily, with more than a trace of pride. \u201cEven a stone<br \/>\nhead may be severed from its body, no matter how many faces it bears.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Jehovah watched a tear fall to his robes, seeping into the thick fabric.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThe others are all gone then? Ba\u2019al, Allah, Waheguru, El? <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAllah proved difficult,\u201d Nichibotsu acknowledged dismissively with a<br \/>\nslight wave of his hand. \u201cFor a hunter cannot hope to discover the<br \/>\nidentity of a prey whose own followers are taught not to visualise him<br \/>\nin their minds.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYet he lived within the words of his prophet,\u201d Jehovah recited<br \/>\nmiserably, \u201csent down from above to convey the divine message amongst<br \/>\nthe faithful, so that they might emulate his example and give glory to<br \/>\ntheir God.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI despatched a temporally impervious HK drone to traverse an artificial<br \/>\n wormhole into the past,\u201d the Samurai finished. \u201cMy automaton slew<br \/>\nMohammad the day he set foot within this reality, and so erased his many<br \/>\n teachings from the fabric of the universe. No word. No God.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu had expected to see bitterness burning when the old man\u2019s<br \/>\neyes rose again, but instead he saw only pity in the Immortal\u2019s face.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cTell me Sunset, has the blood of a hundred eternals sated your thirst for vengeance?\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Samurai calmly reached out a hand to the sword beside him,<br \/>\nunsheathing the long blade and laying it across his lap in answer.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat about Susanoo\u201d Jehovah asked. \u201cWhen you agreed to poison his<br \/>\nsister, your Kami Mistress, and put out her light in return for that<br \/>\nsword in your hands, could you have known the pain which your disgrace<br \/>\nwould ultimately bring? <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The God leant forward and placed a warm hand across the Samurai\u2019s own.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cMust every higher form of life in this universe continue to pay for your mistake?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu withdrew his hand, lest the twinge of emotion it brought infect him further.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAll must pay,\u201d he replied, rising to his feet. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Jehovah gazed calmly up into his executioner\u2019s face.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAnd the mortals you have sworn to protect from our unwanted meddling.<br \/>\nDo they not have a choice in whether those whom they willingly give<br \/>\nworship to live or die?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Nichibotsu\u2019s hands slid softly round the grip of his blade like those of a lover.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThey cannot know freedom until the last of you are gone,\u201d he said<br \/>\nthrough gritted teeth, moving to stand directly behind the kneeling God.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Jehovah\u2019s eyes focussed upon a small beetle, making its way uncertainly across the vast expanse of the mat.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAnd so you make the choice for them?\u201d he observed, reaching out a hand<br \/>\nto gently lift the insect up and help it safely on its way.<br \/>\n\u201cInteresting.\u201d                   <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi\u2019s made a soft whistling sound as Nichibotsu raised it above his head.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAnd what of your paymasters?\u201d Jehovah asked, causing the Samurai\u2019s arm<br \/>\nto falter mid-stroke. \u201cThe Council of I\u2019hajin &#8211; you know what it is that<br \/>\n they swear allegiance to, deep in the bowels of that planet?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI know,\u201d Nichibotsu smiled, \u201cand I have a plan for that infernal machine as well.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAnd if it should grow more powerful? And seek to exert its influence across Man\u2019s entire domain?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Samurai lowered his weapon slightly for an instant, granting the God an answer to his question.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThe preparations have already been made. I seeded I\u2019Haji\u2019s atmosphere<br \/>\nwith an aggressive breed of nanite before I left. The abomination will<br \/>\nnot live long.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Jehovah bowed his head forward slightly, presenting the pale flesh of his neck to Nichibotsu\u2019s blade.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThen you truly have become the most powerful of all entities my child,\u201d<br \/>\n he whispered. \u201cPerhaps it is we who should worship you?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The tip of Nichibotsu\u2019s sword plunged deep into the earth at the end of<br \/>\nits killing stroke. He left it embedded there, quivering beside a pile<br \/>\nof fresh dust, having no further use for it. Donning his armour, he made<br \/>\n his way back to the surface.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Outside, the storm still raged. Black filth fell relentlessly from the<br \/>\nsky, spattering across Man\u2019s rusted past like oil. The Amenonuhoko\u2019s<br \/>\nCaptain signalled his ship and stood waiting for retrieval in the<br \/>\npouring rain, corruption slowly seeping beneath the folds of his armour.<br \/>\n He would not return to this place again he decided, as he watched the<br \/>\ndarkening clouds. After all, such a lowly inconsequential world as this<br \/>\nwas no place for a God to walk.<\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak><br \/>\n<a name=\"hygiene\"><\/a><\/p>\n<h1 class=\"western\" style=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font face=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><font size=\"6\">Office Hygiene<\/font><\/font><\/h1>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\nBy Micha\u00ebl Wertenberg<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n\u201cGrrreg! Come in here.\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I hated how he rolled his Rs. It always made my skin crawl. This time it also made me chomp down on my tongue. Made it bleed.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I swallowed my blood with a wince. God, I hoped he couldn\u2019t smell it.<br \/>\nBut I knew he could. He could smell everything. The worst thing about<br \/>\nhaving a wolf for a boss, worse than the rolled Rs, worse than the<br \/>\ntrails of saliva down the corridors and in the break room, was his sense<br \/>\n of smell. I learned early on, and learned the hard way, to forgo steaks<br \/>\n for dinner, even on weekends. He\u2019d always get a whiff of it the<br \/>\nfollowing day, and he\u2019d be on me like\u2026well, like a wolf.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My sense of smell, unfortunately, though not on par with a wolf\u2019s, was<br \/>\nstill quite keen. I opened the door to his office and the stench churned<br \/>\n my stomach. Don\u2019t vomit again! Don\u2019t vomit. Don\u2019t vomit.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYes, Boss. What is it, Boss?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cCongrrratulations.\u201d His tongue swiped his teeth and gums as if lapping<br \/>\nup the saliva-ladened syllables that dripped from his mouth.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I managed, quite convincingly, to contain my enthusiasm. I deserved that<br \/>\n promotion. He wasn\u2019t doing me any favors.  \u201cThank you, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019re going to be Simon\u2019s right hand man.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSimon?\u201d That incompetent suck up!<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYes, Simon!\u201d My boss\u2019s tail rose from behind his chair, swished back<br \/>\nand forth, and smacked the phone on his desk, knocking over the<br \/>\nreceiver. \u201cEvery good project manager needs an excellent project<br \/>\nmanager\u2019s assistant.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>If, by good project manager, he meant an opportunistic buffoon whose<br \/>\nonly contribution was daily bison scraps, then yes, Simon did deserve<br \/>\nthe promotion. I bit down on my disappointment. \u201cThank you, Sir. Will<br \/>\nthere be anything else, Sir?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYes. Don\u2019t tell Simon until after lunch. I want to give him the good news myself.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cOf course, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cOh, and speaking of lunch. No more antelope. I\u2019m sick of antelope. Order me elk. I have a craving for elk today.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYes, Sir.\u201d I turned to step out of his office, then like the \u2018excellent assistant\u2019 that I was, I turned back. \u201cIt\u2019s just that\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s just, what?\u201d His tail swiped the desk and sent some papers to the floor\u2013my efficiency report! <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s just that they take so long to deliver elk. Perhaps I could\u2026\u201d I<br \/>\npaused for dramatic effect and feigned to be intimidated by his beady<br \/>\nblack eyes.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cPerhaps you could what? Spit it out!\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cPerhaps I could put in the elk order for tomorrow. Then it\u2019d be sure to arrive on time.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>His smile, if you could call it a smile, stretched behind his perked up<br \/>\nears. He showed me his fangs. His tongue flapped out of the side of his<br \/>\nmouth, and he made no attempt to keep the saliva from dripping out. \u201cElk<br \/>\n meat, today!\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYes, Sir. Will do, Sir.\u201d I slipped out, shut the door behind me, and took a deep breath of slightly less repugnant air.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Quarter past one and the tension in the office was palpable. No one<br \/>\ndared leave for lunch before the boss got his. I picked up my phone and<br \/>\nmade the call. \u201cListen, Simon. The boss needs to see you.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I barely had the time to hang up the receiver before Simon came parading<br \/>\n by my cubicle. He gave me a nod. I scrunched my nose and turned my head<br \/>\n in rehearsed disgust. \u201cP.U.!\u201d I fanned my face. \u201cHell, Simon. What<br \/>\nhappened to you?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He stopped dead in his tracks\u2013might as well have been a deer in my headlights. \u201cWhat? What do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI mean that smell.\u201d I pinched my nose with one hand, with the other I<br \/>\npulled the flask out of my desk drawer and handed it to him. \u201cDon\u2019t go<br \/>\nin there like that. Here, spray a bit of this on you first.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He undid the cap and took a whiff\u2013as if he could tell shit from Chanel!<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat is it?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s what you need.\u201d I waved him away, my other hand still covering my<br \/>\nnose. \u201cNow hurry up before I get sick and the boss gets impatient.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He sprayed his neck\u2013Perfect spot. Good choice, Simon.\u2013handed me back the flask with a smile, and headed for the boss\u2019s office.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Elk urine had never smelled so sweet.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I put the flask back in the drawer, retrieved the other one\u2013Cognac\u2013and<br \/>\nstrutted down to Cindy\u2019s cubicle. Her cubicle had a much better view of<br \/>\nthe boss\u2019s office than mine\u2013just off to the side of the glass partition.<br \/>\n I passed yet another intern on the way. I smiled at him since I was,<br \/>\nafter all, glad to see him. Even though we hadn\u2019t had a mauling in<br \/>\nmonths, it\u2019s always handy to have a few interns around just in case.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2019s up?\u201d asked Cindy.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I plopped myself on her desk and spun around so I could get a good view<br \/>\nof the boss\u2019s office. \u201cHow\u2019s the new intern working out for you?\u201d I<br \/>\nasked.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cNot bad. Not bad.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I opened the flask, took a sip, and handed it to Cindy.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSays he enjoys the job and can\u2019t wait to get his hands dirty,\u201d she added.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I chuckled. Even though it was a shit job with a wolf for a boss,<br \/>\nsometimes things seemed to work out for everyone\u2013well, almost everyone.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThanks. What are we drinking to?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThe sweet smell of success, Cindy. The sweet smell of success.\u201d<\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak><br \/>\n<a name=\"sinkholes\"><\/a><\/p>\n<h1 class=\"western\" style=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font face=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><font size=\"6\">Sinkholes<\/font><\/font><\/h1>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\nBy Vaya Pseftaki<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\nUs, Spawns\n<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI guess this is not the right day for a sponge.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIs there a right day?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cMust be. A rainy day won\u2019t let me walk past the corner, makes me feel<br \/>\nall fat and bloated. A sunny day will turn me into a raisin, old and<br \/>\nused up. A windy day now-\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cGot it.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Their room does not catch the sun, constantly washed in sterile,<br \/>\nfluorescent light. Creased sheets, stranger-stained, on two single beds<br \/>\nnailed together. As cheap as it gets. Ten euros an hour and twenty a<br \/>\nnight. The clock is ticking Coca Cola time on the beige wall. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Lord of Dead Ends blows a perfect circle of smoke towards the<br \/>\nceiling. He cracks his fingers and cautiously leans back against the<br \/>\nheadboard. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWe need to get going,\u201d says Sponge the Bright, fishing the last crisps from the bottom of the bag. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019ll smell like crisps for days,\u201d the Lord of Dead Ends says and<br \/>\ngrabs the bag from his hands. The TV burps a tulip of purple steam as he<br \/>\n turns it off; its cogs grunt and stop. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cFine. And you get dressed. It takes ages to wrap you up and our first shift starts in an hour.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cRight.\u201d The Lord of Dead Ends unfolds his long limbs and stretches<br \/>\nthrowing his head back, hair tickling his waist. His padded full-body<br \/>\nsuit hangs limp on the coat rack, black. When he wears it he feels like<br \/>\nit\u2019s swallowing him up, every inch of his dazzling white skin. It still<br \/>\nleaves the face uncovered, though. When you are made of porcelain, there<br \/>\n are only so many precautions you can take. \u201cYou know this job won\u2019t<br \/>\nlast either, so don\u2019t keep your hopes up.\u201d He zips the suit up, testing<br \/>\nit for spots where the padding has thinned, it seems fine. \u201cThere is a<br \/>\nreason I am called the Lord of Dead Ends.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge the Bright snorts and jumps around as he tries to squeeze his<br \/>\nfluffy arms into the sleeves of his coat. \u201cI really need to get a cloak<br \/>\nnext time,\u201d he says, fumbling to button up and failing. The Lord of Dead<br \/>\n Ends stifles a chuckle and stubs his cigarette in the astray.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cShit,\u201d he says, leaning towards the window, looking up. \u201cYou were<br \/>\nright. It\u2019s this fucking poisonous rain again. I\u2019ll get the umbrellas.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Outside, the city speaks its mind through rails that creak under the<br \/>\nweight of the eight o\u2019clock train, through roofed tricycles\u2019 tailpipes<br \/>\nand sighing cabarets, through hollow windows banging at the top of<br \/>\ndeserted buildings. Not many people roam the city center tonight; the<br \/>\nbetter for the Lord of Dead Ends and Sponge the Bright. They can do<br \/>\nwithout the stares and the smacking of lips as they pick their way<br \/>\ntowards the Site Hole Six. Their kind shares the city with the humans<br \/>\nfor a decade now, yet still they feel the need to choose the back alley<br \/>\nover the avenue.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The first barricades start a hundred meters from the Site Hole Six. The<br \/>\nkhaki-clad guards barely look up from their makeshift backgammon board;<br \/>\nspawns are free to approach the Hole. Maybe they hope it will take them<br \/>\nback.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Out of the six Holes that opened up across the city, this is the only<br \/>\none to remain. In the first days, they say it felt like the end of the<br \/>\nworld. In a way, it was: holes open up, human jumps in, spawns come out<br \/>\nin their stead. Even a side glance at a Hole was enough to make humans<br \/>\nfall into a state of fugue, sprint and throw themselves in. It took days<br \/>\n to isolate the Holes; it is not easy to build a wall when your workers<br \/>\nkeep jumping into the abyss.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThere!\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Site Hole Six looms at the end of a street taken over by weeds. Twenty<br \/>\nmeters high and a hundred meters across, it looks less like a building<br \/>\nand more like a really high wall, made of concrete and metallic beams.<br \/>\nThe Hole should be located at the center.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Lord of Dead Ends reaches the only door and takes his newly minted<br \/>\nID plaque out of his backpack to feed it to the machine. Sponge lags<br \/>\nbehind, careful not to let a single droplet of the acidic rain fall on<br \/>\nhis absorbent skin. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cFucking poison, it hasn\u2019t rained for days and today, all of a sudden,<br \/>\nplaf plaf plaf, as if it\u2019s waiting for us to sneak out. Jinxed, that\u2019s<br \/>\nwhat we are.\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cQuit bitching, Sponge, you\u2019re fine.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAnd you quit being so damn careless. It\u2019s not ten days yet since you got glazed, again. You still owe half the money.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The machine coughs his plaque out and falls silent. So far, so good.<br \/>\nWith no idea as to what they are supposed to do next, the Lord stands<br \/>\nand waits and wraps his coat around him tight. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>They promised each other that working on the Site would be their last<br \/>\nresort, and indeed they tried nearly everything else. Nothing worked for<br \/>\n long. At least back when spawns were not considered citizens, they<br \/>\ncould still work the margins of legality&#8211;be carnival exhibits,<br \/>\nbouncers, pets, slaves. Now that they merited a wage, why hire them at<br \/>\nall?<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>God bless the CandyMen then, aka the spawn mafia; the government hired<br \/>\ntheir front to run and safeguard the Hole, since no human could approach<br \/>\n it. Now the Lord of Dead Ends and Sponge the Bright could earn enough<br \/>\nto remain welcome in their horrid motel room.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The metallic double door creaks and sighs and opens in front of them.<br \/>\nBehind it stands a tall spawn, human legs embedded in a grasshopper\u2019s<br \/>\nabdomen, its hind wings forming a smart green tailcoat matched with a<br \/>\nblack top hat.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cEvening, gentlemen.\u201d His automaton voice comes out of a small bronze<br \/>\npipe, adjusted right under his mandibles. It makes a faint rumble as he<br \/>\nspeaks. \u201cI see your clearance passes have checked out. Follow me.\u201d He<br \/>\nturns on his heels and starts walking fast, his leathery tegmina buzzing<br \/>\n faintly. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI am now taking you to your posts, but before that, allow me to inform you of the few rules of our establishment.\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge\u2019s wingtips echo \u201cclack, clack, clack\u201d \u2013 the corridor is empty and grey and smells damp.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI believe you have already signed the confidentiality agreement.\u201d<br \/>\nSponge glances at the Lord of Dead Ends and he nods back, but when he<br \/>\nturns round he almost bumps on the half insect\u2019s behind and gasps.<br \/>\nThere\u2019s a door in front of them, narrow and uncommonly tall but plain<br \/>\nother than that. The grasshopper spawn makes a clicking sound and<br \/>\nswallows. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cFirst rule of our establishment: never leave your post before your<br \/>\nshift is over. Second: breathing a word of whatever you have witnessed<br \/>\nin our establishment would be considered as really bad manners. Finally,<br \/>\n do not feed anyone or anything to the Hole, under any circumstances.<br \/>\nYou have been hired to guard it, and the management expects that you do<br \/>\nnot deviate from your task.\u201d  <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cOf course,\u201d mutters the Lord of Dead Ends, eyes nailed on the floor ahead. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cUh-hem,\u201d Sponge clears his throat, turning to the grasshopper spawn.<br \/>\n\u201cAren\u2019t we to be provided with some kind of equipment? Or see a map of<br \/>\nthe facilities we are to guard?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The grasshopper\u2019s gaze is impossible to escape, feasting on Sponge\u2019s slightly twitching lip and skittish eyes.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cMy colleague is just too eager to start, Sir,\u201d says the Lord of Dead Ends.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cTrigger happy, I see. Not our favorite kind,\u201d and he finally lets them in. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cReally? Can\u2019t you see that this is all a sham?\u201d Sponge the Bright paces<br \/>\n in their narrow booth, a cramped room mainly made of glass and<br \/>\nsmothered with the stark smell of bleach.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou don\u2019t say.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cShouldn\u2019t we at least undergo some training, or, or, &#8211; I mean I don\u2019t<br \/>\neven know how this old bugger works,\u201d Sponge goes on, waving the pistol<br \/>\nin his hand as if it were a flag. \u201cIt\u2019s so light it feels like a toy. I<br \/>\nbet it is.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Lord of Dead Ends sighs. \u201cThey only hired us to fulfill their spawn<br \/>\nquota. Can\u2019t you go back to being Sponge the Bright, just for a change?\u201d<br \/>\n He finishes rolling his cigarette, takes a swig from a flask he has<br \/>\nbrought along carefully tucked in his suit\u2019s inner pocket, and pushes<br \/>\nhimself up from the swiveling, squeaking chair. He blows the smoke<br \/>\nagainst the window glass. \u201cIt was your fucking idea, after all. And stop<br \/>\n pointing at me with that.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Their booth is on the ground level, just ten meters from the Hole. The<br \/>\ninner wall\u2019s seamless stone is interrupted only by a metallic double<br \/>\ndoor. Around the Hole runs a paved hem, almost three meters wide. The<br \/>\nLord\u2019s eyes flicker up, searching for a real guard, but there is none.<br \/>\nNo windows, no alcoves, no openings of any kind. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cMaybe it\u2019s the birds,\u201d says the Sponge that stands right next to him,<br \/>\npistol still in hand, leaning against the glass. They spotted a few over<br \/>\n the past long hours, automaton birds the color of brass, grinding their<br \/>\n metallic wings as they fly over the Site.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThere is one over there, perched above the main door. Do you see it?\u201d<br \/>\nThe Lord of Dead Ends tries yet again the door knob that leads to the<br \/>\nHole, but it doesn\u2019t give in. No lock, so more likely it\u2019s stuck.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s a pity,\u201d mumbles Sponge, eyes still fixed outside.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHmm?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s a pity we can\u2019t take a closer look at the Hole.\u201d Its perfectly<br \/>\nround lid takes up almost the entire interior, slightly curved and<br \/>\nperfectly polished despite the spitting rain that has just stopped.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI\u2019ve heard it\u2019s the biggest Hole of the six. They say thousands of<br \/>\nSpawns crawled out of it in the first week,\u201d whispers the Sponge.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cA quarter of the city\u2019s losses, give or take.\u201d He draws another breath of smoke. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge opens his mouth to speak when a low rumble echoes, coming from<br \/>\nbeneath their feet. The flask rattles slightly, louder only seconds<br \/>\nlater, along with the pens and the tulip TV on the desk. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cShit,\u201d whispers the Lord of Dead Ends, cigarette hanging from his lips. He stares at the lid, eyes narrow. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s opening,\u201d mumbles the Sponge and climbs onto the chair to get a better view.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The lid slides into a barely visible slit into the ground and leaves the<br \/>\n Hole exposed; a begging wound with its scab removed that gapes at the<br \/>\nworld. The rumble fades and stops. The Lord of Dead Ends feels his skin<br \/>\ncrawl as the silence tugs at his gut, cold and smooth, urging him to<br \/>\ndouble up and drag himself under the desk. Still, he cannot defy the<br \/>\nurge to look. This same swelling need to keep staring at violence, be it<br \/>\n at a gutted nobody in a back alley, or at the earthquake smitten debris<br \/>\n of a slum. He stares and waits, mouth watering, muscles taut. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>There is a faint blip and then a muted grinding sound as the double<br \/>\ndoors open and five \u2013 no, six spawns pour in, some walking, some<br \/>\nscrambling. They march up to their arrayed spots around the Hole,<br \/>\nseveral steps behind the brim. The Lord\u2019s eyes hop from spawn to spawn<br \/>\nscanning for someone he has crossed paths with before \u2013 you never know.<br \/>\nThe table lamp-headed woman on the far left reminds him a bit of a<br \/>\nSponge\u2019s old friend back from their early days on earth and whips round<br \/>\nto check with him.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s not her. Lucy\u2019s light was yellow,\u201d Sponge whispers. \u201cWhat are they doing? Are these guns?\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cShhh,\u201d the Lord of Dead Ends shades his eyes with his palm. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The scream comes first, piercing his chest, making his heart flutter<br \/>\nalong with the automaton birds. Two spawns appear through the doors, one<br \/>\n who could be taken for a human if it wasn\u2019t for his discreet beak of a<br \/>\nnose, and the other looking like he strolled out of a five-year-old\u2019s<br \/>\ndrawing. They drag a man between them, hooded. Right behind them follows<br \/>\n a cohort of four more spawns, all muscles and glares, surrounding a<br \/>\nfifth, a woman; her long dark hair and caramel skin shine under the<br \/>\nharvest moon. Her dress is made of candy wrapping that screeches as she<br \/>\nmoves. Sponge gasps beside him.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSusie Q.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSusie Q., that\u2019s her. With candy hair and teeth of steel? That\u2019s her!\u201d Sponge\u2019s fear rasps in his throat.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIsn\u2019t she the bitch who founded the CandyMen?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYes!\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cPraise our luck.\u201d The Lord of Dead Ends takes a swig from the flask. \u201cWhat a night, to meet the cream of our kind.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cShut up! Oh, sweet mother of their Jesus Christ, can they see us?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cMake sure you smile.\u201d He bares his teeth in a plastered grin and makes a toast towards them that goes unnoticed. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Stick Figure and Touc-Toucan make their prisoner kneel facing the Hole.<br \/>\nSusie Q. halts right behind him. The man is wearing a uniform, a torn<br \/>\nand dirty one, blue like a policeman\u2019s. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cLast chance, Officer. Questions left unanswered have a price.\u201d She<br \/>\nsings rather than talks, a song of sugar and butter. \u201cWho gave you the<br \/>\nautomaton bird?\u201d His shoulders shake, hunched; a muffed sob is all she<br \/>\ngets for an answer. \u201cWhere is the footage now?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cPlease,\u201d his voice bursts out hoarse. \u201cI\u2019m begging you, stop. It\u2019s<br \/>\nmadness. If what you\u2019re doing here gets out, they\u2019ll lynch every spawn<br \/>\nin the country. Don\u2019t you see?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Susie Q. kicks him in the gut. \u201cOh, and that would be something new?<br \/>\nThank you, Officer, for your wise advice, you can stick it up your ass.\u201d<br \/>\n She delivers another kick, heel first. \u201cWhere is the bird?\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cPlease, I don\u2019t know. Only seen it once, I know nothing else, please.\u201d<br \/>\nHe falls on all fours and tries to turn around, reaching blindly for her<br \/>\n feet. She shrugs, takes a small step back and nods at Stick Figure.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI\u2019ve had enough of him,\u201d she says. Stick Figure snatches the hood off<br \/>\nand digs his boot in his side, sends him crawling near the rim. The man<br \/>\nhas a face under the hood, a bulgy red nose and sucked-in lips and gaunt<br \/>\n cheekbones, human to its every stretch of skin. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Lord of Dead Ends forgets to breathe in. Damn him, it\u2019s just as they<br \/>\n say. The man stares at the hole, his gaze fixed, black as the sea, the<br \/>\neyes of a beast. Yet, there lurks desire. No whimpering for his sore<br \/>\nribs, no begging, no turning back. The man flings his tongue over his<br \/>\nlips and stands up. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHey, shithead. You are free,\u201d Stick Figure says and chuckles, exchanging looks with Touc-Toucan. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHey, you can go home now,\u201d Touc-Toucan says and rattles a set of keys in front of the man.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The officer takes a step back and then jumps. No scream. No thud. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYeah, didn\u2019t think so,\u201d says Stick Figure and they both fall back.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Lord of Dead Ends takes a sharp breath. His lungs are about to<br \/>\nburst. His pulse buzzes. That\u2019s how they go then. They say there is<br \/>\nnothing anyone can do to stop them. They say the Hole sneaks in their<br \/>\neyes and nests in their heart and devours it. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cOh my, oh my,\u201d Sponge says in a tiny voice and gets off the chair,<br \/>\nheading for the jammed door that leads to the site. The Lord of Dead<br \/>\nEnds springs up and grabs his arm.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWe need to help him, get some rope.\u201d Sponge takes a quick look around the booth.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYes, great idea, let\u2019s stroll outside to help, I\u2019m sure the CandyMen<br \/>\nwon\u2019t mind us trying.\u201d He catches his eye and holds it. \u201cPull yourself<br \/>\ntogether.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSteady now,\u201d they hear Susie Q. saying and turn. She makes her way<br \/>\nbehind the frontline of spawns, and at her command, some aim their guns<br \/>\nat the Hole while the bulkier ones move forward. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Lord of Dead Ends squeezes Sponge\u2019s arm softly.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cOh my, here they come-\u201d Sponge runs out of words, his eyes bulging wide<br \/>\n and wider. The Lord of Dead Ends swallows spit of sand and holds back a<br \/>\n bout of coughing. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Out of the hole, first comes a limb, fingers webbed and twisted; then a<br \/>\nshoulder, then a head with only a mouth for a face, a mouth full of<br \/>\nhundreds of needle teeth clasped tightly together. It crawls out on<br \/>\nfours, naked, its skin blue, its dark hair plastered on its forehead.<br \/>\nBehind it follow two more \u2013no, it\u2019s three, a rug doll girl in a tufted<br \/>\ntutu, a man with an incandescent coil instead of a neck, and a barely<br \/>\nvisible shadow struggling to assume some kind of form, again and again<br \/>\nand failing. Needle Tooth lets out a shriek and whips round to face more<br \/>\n spawns climbing out; a medley of claws and gills and cogs, their faces<br \/>\nblanched with terror.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHold,\u201d says Suzie Q., her eyes glinting. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Needle Tooth hisses and springs up, grabbing an automaton bird that<br \/>\ndared to fly lower. It twists its fingers until it cracks and shoves it<br \/>\nwhole into its mouth, filling the air with crunching sounds.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cFire.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The guards aim and take the shot, planting tranquilizing darts into the startled newborns. One by one, they totter and fall. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat will they do with them?\u201d Sponge wipes his nose on his sleeve,<br \/>\ndroplets instantly absorbed by his skin. The Lord of Dead Ends unzips<br \/>\nhis suit down to his chest; the room feels stuffy and cramped. He digs<br \/>\nin his pocket and fishes out his silk handkerchief.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHere.\u201d Sponge takes it and dabs his eyes.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cLet\u2019s wrap it up, ladies and gentlemen,\u201d Susie Q. says and the guards<br \/>\nstart walking between the fallen, picking them up and gently dragging<br \/>\nthe heavy. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhere are they taking them? Who knows what they\u2019ll do with them. Oh, poor things-\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThey would have killed them already if they wanted them dead.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge opens his mouth to say something, but words don\u2019t come. In a<br \/>\nmatter of minutes the Site is empty. The lid rumbles as it slides over<br \/>\nthe Hole like a thin blanket. The Lord of Dead Ends takes a swig from<br \/>\nhis flask. Wipes his lips on his sleeve. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cCheers to the new arrivals. Welcome to the land of milk and honey.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Angry Inch<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Shit. I turn the purse inside out on the dresser; some loose<br \/>\npainkillers, a rusty beetle brooch and tobacco crumbs. My burgundy lip<br \/>\npencil is missing. The dressing room lights switch on with the familiar<br \/>\nwheeze of the back room generator and I squint. The headache shoots<br \/>\nsharp behind my eyes, embedding its roots deep into my skull. The smell<br \/>\nof burning dust on the bulbs makes me sneeze. It wouldn\u2019t hurt if we<br \/>\ncleaned this dump every once in a while. Lucy the Lamp slumps on the<br \/>\nchair next to me and kicks off her heels, diving to rub her feet.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat size are these?\u201d They are too gold and glittery for my liking, but<br \/>\n it\u2019s so difficult to find decent heels that fit I\u2019m about to settle<br \/>\nwith cheesy for a change. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cNot your size, Honey, sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I guess I\u2019ll go for the black pair tonight, again. I push the chair back<br \/>\n and stroll over the door and ram it shut. I shake my shirt off and<br \/>\nstart unbuckling my belt, eyes fixed on the clothes rack where my laced<br \/>\nwhite corset hangs along with the black crinoline. My silk blindfolds<br \/>\nare draped on the hanger\u2019s hook.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My eye catches the smoke of her cigarette on the mirror and I look up.<br \/>\nShe hasn\u2019t smoked in months. I glance at the shut door, grab the corset,<br \/>\n and walk over by her.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat?\u201d I whisper. It\u2019s so frustrating that she hasn\u2019t got a face to<br \/>\nread, just a chin and a pair of lips. When I first met her I would<br \/>\nslightly lean forward trying to catch a glimpse of what was under the<br \/>\nlampshade, but all I could see was searing light. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cTony didn\u2019t show up last night.\u201d Her voice is small, full of bumps.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDid you check with the others?\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>She nods. \u201cNo one\u2019s seen him in a week.\u201d The mirror lights are too<br \/>\nbright, emitting their sizzling heat that makes my skin flush red. \u201cI\u2019m<br \/>\nafraid they might have picked him up.\u201d The headache jabs between my<br \/>\neyes. \u201cIf the CandyMen caught him, if they-\u201d she takes a sharp breath<br \/>\nand clears her throat. \u201cTurn around, I\u2019ll tie you up.\u201d I wrap the corset<br \/>\n around my belly and stomach and flat chest, its underwire already<br \/>\ndigging in my flesh. \u201cIs it secure?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cA little tighter,\u201d I say, but then I realize she is not talking about<br \/>\nthe corset. I nod. The automaton bird lies in a cupboard, under the<br \/>\nkitchen sink of my old seaside apartment. Nobody ever goes there<br \/>\nanymore. \u201cAs agreed.\u201d A tide swells in my guts, pushing its way up along<br \/>\n with my masala chicken dinner. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIf he talks, we are done,\u201d I say and unbutton my pants just to keep my<br \/>\nfingers from trembling. I fake a cough to mask a burp, damned<br \/>\nindigestion.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHe won\u2019t talk. Tony is solid.\u201d Air wheezes out of her lungs and she<br \/>\npulls the corset strings harder. This is a disaster. \u201cWe are not even<br \/>\nsure they got him. Would they dare go after a cop?\u201d Her voice is<br \/>\ngrasping for some smoothness.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cMaybe they would. And if they did, Susie\u2019s men might be at the old<br \/>\napartment as we speak.\u201d I glance at the door, hold my breath to make<br \/>\nsure no steps are approaching. All I can hear is the faint buzz of<br \/>\nvoices blended with Serjio\u2019s violin; the show begins.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou are right. We have to assume the seaside apartment is compromised.<br \/>\nWe can\u2019t go back there.\u201d She pats me on the shoulder. \u201cReady.\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThanks.\u201d I slide behind the folding screen, suspenders in hand along<br \/>\nwith my special tuck-it-all-in panties. All this work, all these months,<br \/>\n with all we\u2019ve risked, for nothing. Panic grins and gives me the<br \/>\nfinger. With my back on the wall I slide on the floor, knees folded<br \/>\nagainst my chest. What now?<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWe can\u2019t give up,\u201d Lucy whispers. \u201cWe are so close.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWe were. We had only the automaton to prove she feeds people to the<br \/>\nHole and no proof at all that she is raising an army. Without Tony we<br \/>\nhave no way of knowing which cops are in her pocket. We have nothing.<br \/>\nIt\u2019s over.\u201d My eyes sting and my nose starts running. Fuck, don\u2019t cry<br \/>\nnow. At least the make-up is not on. What the hell am I thinking? They<br \/>\ngot Tony. I\u2019m dead meat, Susie will skin me. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cTheir boldness might be their end. Someone will come looking for Tony.<br \/>\nWe might have a better chance to make them pay attention if one of them<br \/>\nis missing. Unless-\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWe have nothing to show the police, Lucy. It\u2019s over. The seaside<br \/>\napartment will lead them straight to me. I\u2019m done here. We need to get<br \/>\nout of the city, out of the country, now.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHow are we supposed to cross the borders, huh? Do you have enough to<br \/>\npay the smuggler? No, listen. Listen. There\u2019s still a way to get our<br \/>\nhands on another bird.\u201d  I\u2019m so tired. I hear her shuffling around and<br \/>\nthen the teapot whistling on the camp stove by the dresser. Going<br \/>\nthrough our daily ritual always calms her down. She takes the thermos<br \/>\ncups out of her bag.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI don\u2019t care if there\u2019s another way. I can\u2019t do this anymore.\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cBut we need you! Humans won\u2019t listen to what a spawn says, no matter<br \/>\nthe proof.\u201d Of course I know, even a scumbag like me is more legit than<br \/>\nany spawn. \u201cBesides, if Tony snitched you wouldn\u2019t be here now, would<br \/>\nyou? No, you would probably be staring at a Hole by now.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I spring up and pull up my pants, damned buttons.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m out,\u201d I snarl. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cOut where? You think Susie won\u2019t look for her boyfriend?\u201d I wince at<br \/>\nher last pounding word. Calling me a boyfriend, especially when I\u2019m in<br \/>\nmy Ally outfit? Lucy, that was low. I push the screen and tramp to the<br \/>\ndresser, grab my purse and start shoving everything in. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAlly, don\u2019t. Only you can do it, at least hear me out.\u201d Lucy jabs her<br \/>\nhands on her waist. My jacket feels cool on my naked arms and shoulders.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s about Miro.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My fingers freeze on the purse.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSusie Q. has hired two new security guards for the Site. I\u2019ve done some<br \/>\n digging on them, standard stuff, you know, asked around at the<br \/>\nAlchemist\u2019s Den, to see if they are from her regular staff,\u201d she snorts.<br \/>\n \u201cTurns out they\u2019re not. Not yet. And, turns out I know them. One of<br \/>\nthem pretty well, Sponge the Bright, he used to be my friend. But, when I<br \/>\n looked up the other, I recognized the face from your photos. I wanted<br \/>\nto be sure before I told you anything, so I did some more digging, and I<br \/>\n found out that these two are the last of Miro\u2019s bunch. They emerged out<br \/>\n of Hole Six five years ago, on March 17, around one in the morning.<br \/>\nIsn\u2019t that when Miro jumped?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My knees give in, I fumble for the chair, yes that\u2019s the date and that\u2019s<br \/>\n the time. I grope for her tobacco rolls on the dresser, a lipstick cap<br \/>\nrolls and falls on the ground. She lights the cigarette for me, my<br \/>\nfingers feel stiff and numb.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAre you sure?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI couldn\u2019t be a hundred percent sure, of course, but then, when I saw<br \/>\nhim, he looks just like the man in your photograph. A lot. I mean, he is<br \/>\n a spawn, but, still. You should take a look yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I drag a breath of smoke and hold it in. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI was thinking that maybe you could help convince them to get us<br \/>\nanother bird.\u201d Lucy pulls a stool and sits by me. \u201cThink, if you<br \/>\nsuddenly disappear now, Susie Q. will realize that you were up to<br \/>\nsomething. She will turn the city upside down to find you. And you will<br \/>\nmiss your chance to meet them. You have been searching for Miro\u2019s spawns<br \/>\n for years.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I can see the extortion, I\u2019m not blind, at least not when I\u2019m off stage.<br \/>\n But still, she is right. The need to see him again, even in incoherent,<br \/>\n fragmented tittles of the man he used to be burns my chest and squeezes<br \/>\n the sanity right out of me. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHow do you know they will help us?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>She takes the teapot off the stove and pours us some tea, throws a<br \/>\ncouple of sugar cubes in her thermos cup. \u201cSponge the Bright will agree.<br \/>\n He used to be one of us. I hope he hasn\u2019t changed much.\u201d She blows over<br \/>\n her cup. \u201cHis friend is not so easy to handle. And I thought that it<br \/>\nwould only be fair if you were involved too. Besides, I imagine that<br \/>\nthey would both be very interested in meeting you too if they knew who<br \/>\nyou are. We might use it as-\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cA carrot?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cExtra motivation.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Am I doing this? Most times the spawns would bear no resemblance to the<br \/>\nperson gone, most times there was no obvious link between them. Spawns<br \/>\nremember nothing, after all. But, in the rare cases that a lover or a<br \/>\nparent or a friend met a spawn that emerged right after their beloved<br \/>\njumped, they felt a sort of connection, no matter the resemblance. A<br \/>\nconnection. A link. Something. Anything. I will settle. I am doing this.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cOk.\u201d I gulp down the tea as if it\u2019s brandy, scalding my tongue.<br \/>\n\u201cArrange a meeting.\u201d I grab the crinoline and head for the screen. \u201cI<br \/>\nneed to hurry, you are doing my make-up.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cUh-huh,\u201d she stabs her cigarette and fishes my kit from the top drawer.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2019s he called, the other guy? It\u2019s Sponge the Bright and&#8230;?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cLord of Dead Ends.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cOh, you must be joking.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Sharp Edge in the Bunch<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The bourbon steams in the glass, giving off a smoked aroma that makes<br \/>\nhim crave for a bite of peppery sausage. For all its reputation, cabaret<br \/>\n Laterallus doesn\u2019t look like much. Just a hole dug into the innards of a<br \/>\n wretched building, its top floors abandoned to squatters and vermin.<br \/>\nSponge doesn\u2019t mind. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>What Sponge the Bright always enjoys is the silence that lingers<br \/>\nin-between songs. The sudden absence of coherence. The freefall. That\u2019s<br \/>\nwhat he claims for himself alone. The hollow thump between moments when<br \/>\nhe can stare at his bowl full of fish-hooks. When he tries to examine<br \/>\none little truth at a time and the whole lot comes out in a black bunch<br \/>\nfull of sharp edges. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge the Bright is different when he sits alone, waiting for the show<br \/>\nto start. Theatre is not his thing, too many people (or just one)<br \/>\npreaching their misery at the top of their lungs, plus the seats tend to<br \/>\n be too damn uncomfortable\u2013 and you are not allowed to smoke. Cinema is<br \/>\ncontaminated by montage; by the director\u2019s totalitarian glance; by one\u2019s<br \/>\n vision. Live music is all right, ruled by many imponderable factors.<br \/>\nCabarets he likes best as the performers are mostly amateurs or<br \/>\nprofessionals who made, let\u2019s say, unlucky choices such as being<br \/>\nthemselves&#8211;or performing songs that ring annoying to sensitive ears.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Here, it\u2019s more likely that a note will run wild up to the ceiling.<br \/>\nImperfectly perfect. Or he may just be a romantic. Or too fed up with<br \/>\nthe Lord\u2019s hopelessness. There are times, especially in the mornings,<br \/>\nwhen he opens his eyes and reinvents himself and his life; when he gets<br \/>\nto the part where he remembers who and where and when and what, and<br \/>\nturns his head to his side with this spongy squishy sound, and sees the<br \/>\nLord breathing softly, with his glass eyes staring at the ceiling, then<br \/>\nhe almost can\u2019t bear it. When the Lord is asleep, it\u2019s the worst. All<br \/>\nhis hopelessness pours out of his eyes, singing a song for the<br \/>\nmeaninglessness of ever waking up. He can\u2019t blame him, of course. That\u2019s<br \/>\n what the Lord of Dead Ends does. All the other spawns that emerged with<br \/>\n them are now gone. Some managed to leave; most just simply withered and<br \/>\n took their own lives. But Sponge knows that it would do no good to<br \/>\nanyone to leave the Lord alone in the world. No good at all. So, as<br \/>\nthings are, he comes to cabarets alone. And he sits. And he lets the<br \/>\nmusic wash over his soul.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The string of a violin echoes, tightly-tuned, and Sponge looks up from his glass and scans the room for the waitress.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cPeppery sausages, please,\u201d he shouts over the rumble of talk and laughter. The place is full. When did it get so loud?<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAnd two more bourbons.\u201d Lucy has sneaked up behind him, wearing an<br \/>\nappropriate twenties fringe flapper dress to match her lamp hat. He was<br \/>\nexpecting her, sure, but still the sound of her voice instantly warms<br \/>\nhis insides and agitates the butterflies that have been sitting quietly<br \/>\nin his stomach. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>She pulls a chair and sits and offers him a neatly rolled thin cigar out of her red tobacco tin shaped as a hot-air balloon. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou still have it,\u201d he says and nods to the tobacco tin, his voice more dreamy than he\u2019d like it to be.  <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSure. You know how I am with gifts.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge takes the cigar and lights it. The mint flavored smoke travels<br \/>\ndown his throat, coils in his stomach, unleashing memories of soft skin<br \/>\nand old sheets rough from years of washing. The night he left, they<br \/>\nfought and fought until Lucy threw half the cogs and springs of their<br \/>\nimpromptu distillery at him, hitting bull\u2019s eye more than half the time.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI take it we need to talk?\u201d he asks, stifling a cough. Lucy nods and<br \/>\nsits. She doesn\u2019t avoid his gaze. She will not apologize for what\u2019s<br \/>\npast, not Lucy; he smiles. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI thought you were out for good. That you were sick of us,\u201d she says,<br \/>\nunder her breath, with her elbows on the table, leaning towards him, her<br \/>\n light making him blink furiously. But he doesn\u2019t lean back. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI was. Back then Susie was just another spawn, only just beginning to<br \/>\nget radical, and I saw no reason to mix myself in the whole infighting.<br \/>\nNow, she\u2019s gone too far. I want back in.\u201d Sponge pauses to catch a whiff<br \/>\n of bourbon that gets straight to his head. The first of the night,<br \/>\ndelicious.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSo, Susie doesn\u2019t know that you used to be affiliated with our cause,\u201d<br \/>\nLucy says, in a careful voice, like a cat tiptoeing around a half-dead<br \/>\nlocust. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYes, I highly doubt it.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAnd now you work for them, at the Site.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI do.\u201d Sponge kind of enjoys this dance. It reminds him of flirting.<br \/>\nHow pathetic. \u201cIt didn\u2019t just happen. I made it happen, I mean, on<br \/>\npurpose. I let the Alchemist know about my new occupation and hoped you<br \/>\nstill hang out at the Den.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Lucy taps her manicured fingers on the bloated table. Sponge can tell<br \/>\nthat she is holding her breath, her light piercing him, purging him, if<br \/>\npossible.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSo, you did all this because you are willing to help a cause that might not even exist anymore, for all you know.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cBut it does,\u201d he protests and finishes his first bourbon with a smack of his lips.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSponge, this entire conversation is based on trust and good faith. Either one of us could be working for the CandyMen.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI am aware of that.\u201d The waitress comes and goes, and Sponge treats<br \/>\nhimself to a bite. Lucy drags her chair even closer to him and he<br \/>\nrealizes the music has stopped. They eat and drink in silence until<br \/>\nmusic pours out of the tip of a clarinet.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI saw what they do. At the Sites. It\u2019s\u2026 wrong.\u201d The naivet\u00e9 of his words almost crushes him.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhy now?\u201d She asks and sounds genuinely curious.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge sighs. \u201cThe main reason why I left was the Lord of Dead Ends. His<br \/>\n despair caught up with me. Fighting felt pointless. That\u2019s the catch<br \/>\nwith him. He is right. Things do go to shit very often, no matter how<br \/>\nhard you try, no matter the intentions. Fucking dead ends. Back then, I<br \/>\nkept my involvement with the cause a secret from him, afraid that he<br \/>\nwould ruin it. I thought of ditching him, but I couldn\u2019t. He is family,<br \/>\nyou see. Anyway, I wanted to stick with him so I could show him he<br \/>\ndidn\u2019t have to be the Lord of Dead Ends any more, as I was not Sponge<br \/>\nthe Bright.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThat\u2019s what you\u2019re doing here? Proving him wrong?\u201d Lucy says, leaning closer, her breath on his shoulder; he shivers.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cNope. The Lord latches onto his name as a limpet latches onto its rock.<br \/>\n He is what he is. There is nothing I can do about it. But I just won\u2019t<br \/>\nlie down and die without even trying to do something that matters. So.<br \/>\nHow can I help?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Lucy leans back on her chair, crosses her legs and folds her arms on her chest.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHave you seen any prisoners?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou mean the people they feed to the Hole?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Lucy shrugs.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYes. Two the past couple of weeks. Seventeen spawns emerged.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat did they look like? The prisoners.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge swallows a piece of sausage, but he might as well be eating a frog.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThe first one was a cop, medium-height, average looking. Suzie kept<br \/>\nasking him about a bird. You know, the automaton birds they keep at the<br \/>\nSites? He looked quite roughed up.\u201d He pauses as her light flickers<br \/>\nslightly. She grunts and straightens her back and struggles to keep her<br \/>\nvoice even and flat.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDid he tell her? About the bird?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge bites his lower lip.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHe was one of yours? A real cop?\u201d Quite impressive. When he left, there<br \/>\n was no talk of humans joining the cause, it would have been considered<br \/>\noutrageous by both sides. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDid he tell her anything?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge squeezes his brain and takes his time to sweep through every little detail. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cNo,\u201d he finally says. \u201cShe asked him once about the bird\u2019s whereabouts<br \/>\nand he did not breathe a word, even though it looked like he\u2019d been<br \/>\nthrough several rounds of questioning. She asked who had it. But he<br \/>\ndidn\u2019t give her anything. So she\u2026 proceeded.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAre you sure he didn\u2019t talk?\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge nods. \u201cAs far as I know, he didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Lucy twines her fingers, presses her palms together and rests her chin<br \/>\non top of them. Sponge takes her half-smoked cigar from the ashtray and<br \/>\nlights it for her. The lazy violin reaches a bitter high pitch that<br \/>\nechoes above the rumble like a scream and then the clarinets invade the<br \/>\nsadness chasing the moment away. People start singing along with the<br \/>\ncrooner, a young looking fellow with round glasses magnifying a pair of<br \/>\nyellow serpent eyes and an accountant\u2019s suit two sizes larger. His voice<br \/>\n is mellow, like warm raisin bread in the morning.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>On the far right corner, the door opens and the Lord of Dead Ends<br \/>\nsaunters in, clad in tight black jeans and his favorite waistcoat with<br \/>\nthe silver watch chain. Sponge\u2019s heart kicks in his chest; no padded<br \/>\nsuit on? God, you\u2019re such a dick. Out of habit, he scans the room for<br \/>\nsharp edges and other such death traps, finding way too many. Then it<br \/>\ndawns on him. He turns to Lucy.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat is he doing here?\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Lucy\u2019s hand flies up before he can slap it down. Clapping and cheering shakes the room as the song comes to its end. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cLucy? Did you? I never\u2026 It\u2019s a secret, you can\u2019t!\u201d Sponge shouts frantically, his eyes anywhere but on the Lord.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWell, let\u2019s let him in on the joke this time.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cNo, no, no, I just told you, everything he touches turns to shit,<br \/>\nLucy!\u201d Sponge, all puffed-up and flushed, grabs her hands and shakes<br \/>\nher, her light burning bright and brighter.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cFuck this superstitious bullshit! Am I supposed to be just a lamp?<br \/>\nHuh?\u201d She breaks off his hold and grabs her steamy glass, spilling<br \/>\nbourbon all over her dress. \u201cMaybe back home our names meant something.<br \/>\nBut home, whatever it looked like, is gone. Can you remember where you<br \/>\nlived? Family? Childhood\u2019s jokes? Anything at all? No? \u2018Lucy the Lamp\u2019<br \/>\nmeans nothing here. So, yeah, he\u2019s in. We need all the help we can get.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge straightens his blazer and dusts off some ash from his trousers,<br \/>\nmanaging only to smudge his fingers as well. How foolish of him; always<br \/>\nuse a napkin. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSponge, what a surprise!\u201d Thank goodness he never took up acting. \u201cAnd<br \/>\nyou must be Lucy, nice to meet you. Another round?\u201d The Lord looks down<br \/>\nat Sponge, straight in the eye, wearing a smug stupid smile, one that<br \/>\nshouts \u201caha, gotcha!\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>As soon as the Lord waves for some whisky mist&#8211;because, apparently, why<br \/>\n be sober when you are about to conspire against the CandyMen&#8211;the<br \/>\nlights dim and go out. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge grabs the edge of the table and holds his breath, blood wheezing<br \/>\nin his ears. But no one else stands up alarmed. Spawns keep talking all<br \/>\naround them, a puffing, laughing, buzzing darkness that crawls and<br \/>\nsighs. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cLucy?\u201d he whispers.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cRight here, I just killed my light. The show begins.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>In the darkness, the stage floorboards creak; the microphone squeals and<br \/>\n makes his ears pop. A voice rips the air, ripe with desire and sweet<br \/>\nlike a fig. It hits him hard, slaps him in the face, loosens a little<br \/>\nscrew wedged in his chest that kept it all back and properly winded. He<br \/>\ncomes alive, in remembrance of lyrics he never heard before.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The lights fade back in but he cannot bear to look at the stage. Bravery<br \/>\n is an overrated cunt, Ally had said once, sipping her dirty martini<br \/>\nwhile pointing at a roach crawling on the wall, so he could kill it with<br \/>\n a rolled Motomag. He glances at the Lord instead, still standing next<br \/>\nto him, and the tears running down his porcelain face hurt worse than a<br \/>\nbroken bone. There is an expression on his face he cannot interpret.<br \/>\nSponge looks up to the stage.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Blind Ally wears her tight corset and her underwire crinoline skirt and<br \/>\nher suspenders and her trademark silk blindfold, all too familiar in an<br \/>\nunfamiliar way. She sways on her black heels, and sings as if nothing<br \/>\nhas ever changed in this world of hers, deprived of colors and shapes; a<br \/>\n world defined by whooshes and rustling and boards that creak under each<br \/>\n calculated step a thousand times rehearsed at nights when he was not<br \/>\nhere, was not here to applaud and cheer and whistle, at nights when he<br \/>\nwas someplace else, busy not remembering.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge stands up to hit the bar, but Lucy grabs his arm.  <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSusie Q.!\u201d she whispers under her breath.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat?\u201d he says, his throat dry, eyes still on Ally.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2019s she doing here? Quick, you got to get out. She can\u2019t see us<br \/>\ntogether. Fuck.\u201d She pushes him out of his chair and shakes the Lord,<br \/>\ntugging his shirt, all too fast and under the table. Then, she crouches<br \/>\nand dims her light even more, and talks too quickly.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cMeet us at the seaside apartment, first light.\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhere?\u201d Sponge says, finally taking notice of Susie. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWe know the place,\u201d the Lord cuts in and fishes a rolled cigarette out<br \/>\nof his pocket. Lucy nods and scuttles off, straight to the bar, blending<br \/>\n in with men that tip their panama hats and offer her their small talk.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Lord of Dead Ends turns away from the stage, his lips tight to hold<br \/>\nback words or screams or vomit. Sponge downs his whiskey mist and winces<br \/>\n as it burns his throat, his stomach convulsing. Then, he grabs the<br \/>\nLord\u2019s glass, but before he has time to touch it to his lips, the Lord<br \/>\nsnatches it away and places it back on the table.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDon\u2019t be stupid.\u201d The Lord leaves a couple of notes on the table and drags him along, out in the street, away.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Mum<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I walk out of the cabaret, black heels in hand, and sigh. Well done,<br \/>\nAlly, you forgot again&#8211;Thursday is bus strike day. Right. Wonderful. I<br \/>\nlook up and down the highway with its 5 am close to zero traffic and can<br \/>\n spot absolutely no trace of a cab. Not even the whiff of a rickshaw\u2019s<br \/>\ntailpipe. Nothing. Even the air lacks its usual foggy sea-breeze flavor.<br \/>\n Makes sense. Vapor factory workers joined the gold miners on indefinite<br \/>\n wildcat strike last week and the whole city gets to breathe. Walking it<br \/>\n is. I sling my backpack across my shoulders and cross the highway, feet<br \/>\n protesting my quick pace. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Physical pain feels good now though, familiar. An anchor. Stress grips<br \/>\nmy guts and squeezes them; my stomach growls, but eating is out of the<br \/>\nquestion. First, I have to make a stop at home to get the keys to the<br \/>\nold seaside apartment. Why did fucking Susie have the brilliant idea to<br \/>\ncome over to the cabaret, to grant me the great pleasure of her sublime<br \/>\ncompany tonight of all nights? Normally, I don\u2019t mind listening to her<br \/>\nin bed, unwinding after a day of wanton violence and other trivialities,<br \/>\n I don\u2019t even mind us fucking, same as I don\u2019t mind fucking anyone.<br \/>\nTonight though, even sitting across from her took every last crumble of<br \/>\ndiscipline and willpower. Surprise, Miro is mentioned and suddenly you<br \/>\ngot your limits, Ally. King of self-respect.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Or, she might be onto us, which would make for terrible timing. How<br \/>\nclassic. I roll down my shirt sleeves as the breeze picks up and push<br \/>\nopen the jingling door of the bakery under Mum\u2019s apartment. The smell of<br \/>\n bread and baked quince embraces me as the small talk with the owner\u2019s<br \/>\ndaughter takes its beaten way. I wave goodbye, and squeeze my brain to<br \/>\nrecall her name, but I can only remember that it\u2019s something fitting for<br \/>\n a freckled baker\u2019s offspring. I can be such an arrogant prick. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I take the stairs up, winding and wide, their marble worn and dull and<br \/>\ncracked, and can\u2019t help picturing what it would be like to descend these<br \/>\n stairs back when this complex was properly treated and cared for. Back<br \/>\nwhen it housed taffeta-clad merchants of the most exquisite manners,<br \/>\nwhen its various rooms were not diminished to housing those of little<br \/>\nmeans, whole families cramped in ball room number thirteen. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Before I pull out my key, Mum cracks the door, her hair disheveled from sleep. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHi, Mum.\u201d Thin red veins fork on the whites of her eyes. She looks over<br \/>\n my shoulder and down to the bag I am holding and finally at my face,<br \/>\nher delicate eyebrows frowning. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhere have you been?\u201d She opens the door and ushers me in. Our room is<br \/>\ndark apart from the light of the table lamp by her sofa bed. The sheets<br \/>\nare tangled and Stephen Fry\u2019s Making History lies face down on top of<br \/>\nthem, one of dad\u2019s favorite and one of the last he had managed to<br \/>\nsmuggle into the country before the borders closed for good. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAre you reading it again?\u201d I leave the backpack by the piano and roll my shoulders. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhere have you been? Alessandro? Are you ok?\u201d The curtains are shut and<br \/>\n it smells stuffy and syrupy sweet. She must have been binging on<br \/>\ngranny\u2019s walnut spoon sweet. My glance flickers on the top shelves above<br \/>\n the camping stove only to spot the jar half-empty. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI brought you some breakfast.\u201d There must be raisin bread somewhere in<br \/>\nthe bags. \u201cI\u2019m ok. I\u2019m sorry you were worried, I didn\u2019t mean to\u2026\u201d I<br \/>\ntrail off and walk up to the window to let some fresh air in.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI was worried sick, baby. I went downstairs and woke up Auntie Smaro to<br \/>\n use her telephone, but the damned thing just coughed some sparks and<br \/>\ncroaked. You should see the smoke, and the smell, ugh.\u201d She makes a<br \/>\ndisgusted noise and carries the bags to the table, her eyes narrow as<br \/>\nshe peers into them. Mum always disapproves of me spending my wages on<br \/>\nsuch silly luxuries but she never mouths it out. I always know anyway,<br \/>\nbut I appreciate her silence. A sigh escapes me and I slump on the bed;<br \/>\nsuddenly, I miss her. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI\u2019ll chip in to buy her a new one. Maybe we can get one for us as well.\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cNo, Honey, don\u2019t worry about it, me and auntie will figure something out. Maybe we\u2019ll fetch Korina\u2019s son, what\u2019s his name?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cLeonard?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYes, yes, Leonard, maybe we\u2019ll have Leonard take a look at it, in case he can fix it. Handsome boy, isn\u2019t he?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cMum, it doesn\u2019t sound like it can be fixed.\u201d There is only so much I<br \/>\ncan tell her. When she found out about the cabaret, she shrugged and<br \/>\nsaid she always knew that music would win me over. Nor did I hear a word<br \/>\n of complaint when I left my job as a zeppelin steward with all its<br \/>\nbenefits. Her advice was to always save some money aside for the<br \/>\ndentist. She gave me my first stage corset. She stopped talking to<br \/>\nfriends that arched their eyebrows at me being Ally. But I could never<br \/>\nbring myself to tell her about Susie. To look her in the eye and admit<br \/>\nhow much I crave all kinds of bruises.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>She stops rummaging through the bags and looks up at me with such sharp and piercing horror that my heart jumps. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d She points at the sweet pumpkin pie, her index finger a<br \/>\nlittle crooked from years of piano practice. Particles of icing sugar<br \/>\nfloat around as she violently rumples the top of the bag and I inhale, a<br \/>\n breath sharp that fills my lungs, a sweet taste on the tip of my tongue<br \/>\n masking the bitterness. I hate sweet pumpkin pie, but it was Miro\u2019s<br \/>\nfavorite. I bought it without thinking, out of dated habit and brand-new<br \/>\n hope. I didn\u2019t even manage to steal a glance at his spawns last night<br \/>\nand there was an uncanny relief and a deep disappointment when I took<br \/>\noff my blindfold and they were gone. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAlessandro? What\u2019s going on, Baby?\u201d Mum runs her fingers through my<br \/>\nhair, her skin cold. I flinch away and glance at dad\u2019s cuckoo\u2019s clock. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI must get going,\u201d I mumble and walk over to my dresser, fumbling with<br \/>\nits handles as if my hands have forgotten how to perform any fine moves.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWho\u2019s the pie for?\u201d she says in a whisper that carries the force of a<br \/>\nwave three meters tall. Miro is sitting on the edge of the bed, legs<br \/>\nstretched out and feet crossed, holding a cigarette between his thumb<br \/>\nand index. He leans back for a fleeting kiss, his lips sugar-dusted. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cBaby, don\u2019t tell me it\u2019s all about Miro again,\u201d her voice sounds soft now, but only on the surface.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Finally I fish out the keys to the apartment and turn around, avoiding her gaze. What can I tell her? Where would I start?<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s our anniversary, that\u2019s all.\u201d I was thinking of taking a shower to<br \/>\n rinse all Susieness out, but there is no time. Maybe at the apartment. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThat\u2019s why you\u2019re taking the keys? You\u2019ll go over there and be all<br \/>\nmopey?\u201d Mum pushes her hair back, combs it with her fingers and tries to<br \/>\n tie a ribbon around it. \u201cAll those years and you still let your life<br \/>\nrevolve around a&#8211;\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cMum, don\u2019t start again,\u201d come on, not now. She snorts and folds her<br \/>\narms on her chest, straightens her back and swells up, a fragile peacock<br \/>\n ready to caw and bite.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHe was not good for you. No damn good for anyone. Your eyes were always<br \/>\n red and puffed, bruises under layers of clothing. How many times did<br \/>\nyou have to lie to the nurse, huh? Or to me? Or to your friends? He<br \/>\nshould have gone back the way he came, to his backwater homophobic<br \/>\ncountry.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cMum, his country had nothing to do with it.\u201d Her rants against Miro\u2019s<br \/>\norigin always shock me, coming from my mum, a human rights activist long<br \/>\n before it was fashionable. One of my most vivid memories are her and me<br \/>\n at a crowded demonstration, running away from tear gas, wearing<br \/>\nhospital masks slathered with Vaseline.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhere you come from always matters. History\u2019s whole point.\u201d She turns<br \/>\nher back to me and wipes her eyes on the sleeve of her knitted jacket.<br \/>\n\u201cYou didn\u2019t deserve all this misery. Hadn\u2019t he jumped I would have<br \/>\nstrangled him with my own bare hands.\u201d  <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAll right.\u201d No time to argue, Mum. I shiver at the cold draft coming<br \/>\nfrom the open window and start shoving my stuff in a sling bag. My limbs<br \/>\n feel heavy and uncoordinated; a chilling sense of dread crawls up my<br \/>\nspine.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAren\u2019t you going to get any sleep? You\u2019re so pale, Honey,\u201d she says,<br \/>\nstudying me, her eyes small and even redder than before. Lack of sleep.<br \/>\nRight. I forgot. I turn around and throw my arms around her, holding her<br \/>\n tight, afraid that if I let her go now, she will float up to the<br \/>\nceiling, up out of the window, up to the clear morning sky where I won\u2019t<br \/>\n be able to reach her any more, and she will keep floating away, past<br \/>\nclouds, past seagulls, past zeppelins and the moon, until she becomes<br \/>\none of the little meaningless dots pinned on the sky.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI have to meet Lucy and some new people at the old seaside apartment.<br \/>\nIt\u2019s important.\u201d I try my best not to sound alarmed, but panic rages in<br \/>\nmy chest, raising my voice up an octave. We\u2019re walking down the<br \/>\nall-or-nothing road now and it doesn\u2019t take much for her to recognize<br \/>\nthe ring of finality in my words. Mum presses her lips together and<br \/>\nnods, and runs her fingers through my hair. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAre you close? Should I start packing?\u201d she whispers and I let go and<br \/>\nwear my loafers again, feet still aching. I grunt and quickly put on a<br \/>\nfresh shirt and sloppily pin my hair up.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHow do I look?\u201d I ask and force a smile that must look a bit nutty.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cPerfect, Honey. Please, be careful.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My turn to nod and float away into the cold morning light, on a bus<br \/>\nstrike day-damn it, to make her proud, to go and do something that<br \/>\nmatters.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>What\u2019s the Point of Ugly Mermaids?<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDo you think it\u2019s too early for a swirl cone?\u201d The Lord of Dead Ends is<br \/>\n always hungry. Sponge shrugs as they pass by an ice-cream canteen, its<br \/>\npink paint flaking.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The statue of the Fallen Mermaid at the center of the square grunts and<br \/>\nscreeches as its cogs move the tail to roughly tell the hour. The plaque<br \/>\n on the ground says that it\u2019s dedicated to the memory of some girl among<br \/>\n the first who jumped. The length people go to in order to deal with<br \/>\ngrief. The Lord of Dead Ends has no idea if it helps, but he certainly<br \/>\nhopes it does because this is a hell of an ugly mermaid. Right next to<br \/>\nthe statue stands Tin Soldier Anna, selling her bubble tea and<br \/>\nunprocessed rice coupons. Spawns huddle in front of her, but few can<br \/>\nafford her wares. Next to him, Sponge snorts at the sight and clutches<br \/>\nhis sun umbrella which he uses as a walking stick for now. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>They spent all night arguing over the bloody fact that Sponge had kept<br \/>\nso much from him. Lack of trust stung so gingerly that he could hardly<br \/>\ncontrol the volume of his voice or his hands banging on the table. He<br \/>\nhad to wear the padded suit all night in fear he would maim himself,<br \/>\nsuch was the force of his rage. And as many times he flirted with the<br \/>\nidea of throwing himself out of the window, the fear of ending up a<br \/>\ncripple always stopped him. After a few bouts that took up the small<br \/>\nhours, the anger dissipated leaving behind a throbbing wound trapped in a<br \/>\n porcelain casket. Such tantrums would only lead to a dead end. That<br \/>\nmuch, he remembers.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>They walk past the square and take a turn on their right that leads them<br \/>\n straight to the narrow quay next to one of the city\u2019s beaches. The<br \/>\nbuilding blocks that loom up at the side of the street brim with flower<br \/>\nbeds. The exterior walls look freshly painted and the balcony railings<br \/>\nglimmer at the morning sun. One of the few such neighborhoods left so<br \/>\nclose to spawn territory. The Lord unzips his suit down to his collar<br \/>\nbone to let the sunrays touch his skin. His glance wanders down at the<br \/>\nsandy beach, devoid of umbrellas and sunbeds and upbeat beach bars and<br \/>\nmelting freddo cappuccinos. This place used to look so different. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDo you really remember this place?\u201d asks Sponge, squinting at the sun.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cJust flashes. You don\u2019t?\u201d the Lord asks and leans against a metallic bench. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge shakes his head and opens his umbrella to prevent the raisin<br \/>\neffect. \u201cIsn\u2019t it funny that we remember different things from Miro\u2019s<br \/>\nlife?\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s funny we remember anything. I don\u2019t like it. Feels weird.\u201d The<br \/>\nLord tries hard not to sulk but he can\u2019t help it. From the moment they<br \/>\nsaw Blind Ally on the stage, memories pop up as disjointed and random<br \/>\npeeks into somebody else\u2019s life, goading out emotions that feel hollow<br \/>\nand inescapable at the same time. So annoying. Sponge climbs on the<br \/>\nbench and sits on its back, extending the umbrella\u2019s shadow to him. A<br \/>\nconciliatory move after last night\u2019s argument. The Lord is not quite<br \/>\nready to let it go but he doesn\u2019t protest either. Warmth feels good but<br \/>\nglazing costs a lot, after all.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAlly was our girlfriend, right?\u201d Sponge asks, his eyes nailed on the pavement.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cBoyfriend you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge snaps up, looking genuinely surprised. \u201cAlly is a\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYep, his name is Alessandro, that\u2019s what I got when I went all Total Recall.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThat\u2019s not an accurate comparison, at all,\u201d Sponge says trying to bite<br \/>\nhis nails, then looking down at his fingers, momentarily shocked there<br \/>\nare no nails to bite. The Lord chuckles. Same thing happened to him last<br \/>\n night. Apparently, the person they used to be had at least one nasty<br \/>\nhabit. \u201cAnd anyway, I do like Dick\u2019s story better.\u201d That\u2019s pure Sponge<br \/>\nthough; his annoying obsession with Philip K. Dick started years ago,<br \/>\nwhen he joined a reading club way too infatuated with the fucking<br \/>\nElectric Sheep. \u201cDo you think we loved her?\u201d Sponge slouches and the<br \/>\nroof of the umbrella hits the Lord\u2019s head. He snatches it from him and<br \/>\nholds it higher.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWe had nothing to do with Alessandro.\u201d He springs up. \u201cWe were not<br \/>\nthere.\u201d He starts walking away, not looking back even when Sponge does<br \/>\nnot follow.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cShould we pretend we don\u2019t know?\u201d Sponge asks in a voice that melts his<br \/>\n heart. Why did he have to drag them in all this mess? Couldn\u2019t he see<br \/>\nit would all go to shit? Sponge did not deserve such misery, over and<br \/>\nover and over again. The Lord sighs and turns around.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWe can\u2019t pretend. But, in any case, we should remember that we are not<br \/>\nwho he used to know or love or trust. He will be disappointed, Sponge.<br \/>\nSo, brace yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge just stands there for a few long moments, eyeing him, pouting<br \/>\nlike a scolded child. Then, slowly, he starts walking towards him.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou are being hyperbolic, again. And, between us, you are the one more<br \/>\napt to take a hard fall,\u201d Sponge says and snatches the umbrella back,<br \/>\n\u201cMr. Fragile.\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge is right. What a sweeping surprise. He has his cause and his<br \/>\nsocial circles and his obsession with cabarets. Reading clubs and<br \/>\nendless debates on the arts. Lucy the Lamp. Fishing swirling<br \/>\nmagnet-ducks in luna parks. The Lord swallows hard and presses his lips<br \/>\ntogether. He made sure he has nothing to fall back on.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Let\u2019s Tessellate<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I toss the towel on the bathroom floor and, still dripping, I walk over<br \/>\nto the closet by the bed and just stare at it, shivering. Come on now,<br \/>\nyou don\u2019t have time for this. The closet doors, painted in chalkboard<br \/>\npaint, are covered with lyrics of half-finished songs and riffs and<br \/>\nrandom verses that sounded good but fitted nowhere at the time. Stray<br \/>\ndoodles sprout here and there: Cthulhu eating a steam-o-cart, a winged<br \/>\npenis \u2013my creation, of course&#8211;, a rat and a clock and something like a<br \/>\nthorned plant.  The square box up on the right corner that we used as a<br \/>\nnotice board, reads \u201cIf you didn\u2019t get coffee, get the hell out\u201d in<br \/>\nMiro\u2019s neat handwriting. Did I? I grit my teeth and take a deep breath<br \/>\nand open the closet.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The smell of camphor floods the air and makes me cough. A selection of<br \/>\ndark t-shirts and shirts and jeans hang orderly on the right side. My<br \/>\nside looks plundered. I left only what I couldn\u2019t bear wearing any<br \/>\nlonger. Most of his gifts. My cinched waist cardigan. My favorite blue<br \/>\nsweatshirt. My silly toed socks that lie tangled on the bottom of the<br \/>\ncloset next to the sex toys\u2019 box. The urge to grab a pair of scissors<br \/>\nand tear them all apart flashes and faints. I pick a dark red t-shirt<br \/>\nand jeans instead, and bang the doors shut. Miro was not much taller<br \/>\nthan me but he was a fucking anorexic, so I\u2019m having some difficulty<br \/>\nsliding into his jeans. The only thing he ate was pumpkin freaking pie,<br \/>\nfor God\u2019s sake. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The doorbell rings and I jump. All right, steady now, it might be Lucy. I<br \/>\n quickly throw the wet towel in the laundry basket and swing the door<br \/>\nopen, cursing the lack of a peephole. It\u2019s all three of them. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHi,\u201d I say and lean on the door as I nod to them to come inside, hands trembling.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cGood morning, Sweetheart,\u201d Lucy says and I barely notice her. Next to<br \/>\nher stands a short bald man&#8211;sorry, spawn, his skin bright yellow,<br \/>\ncasually dressed, clutching an umbrella. This must be Sponge. He flashes<br \/>\n an awkward smile that looks kind of spooky. And next to him stands a<br \/>\nmuch taller spawn, dressed in a weird full body suit much like a<br \/>\nscuba-diver\u2019s. The resemblance is there, sweet God, the cheekbones and<br \/>\nthe lips and the eyebrows, and the hair; my eyes sting with tears and I<br \/>\nhave to struggle not to let out a scream of relief. Thank you God, it\u2019s<br \/>\nnot him. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I smile, wipe my eyes on my sleeve\u2013shit, stop crying&#8211;and let them in.<br \/>\nThe small living room feels cramped even when they are seated. Don\u2019t<br \/>\nstare at them, for fuck\u2019s sake, say something.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cCan I get you something? Coffee? Tea? I\u2019ve got\u2026\u201d My tongue is tripping<br \/>\non words. \u201cPumpkin pie?\u201d My face must look so stupid with such a cheap<br \/>\nand fraying mask on. Sponge looks furtively around, sitting on the edge<br \/>\nof his seat, while the Lord of Dead Ends leans back, his arms stretched<br \/>\non the back of the couch, legs crossed, eyeing me. Stomach pang. Don\u2019t<br \/>\nblush, please.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cNice apartment,\u201d Sponge says and smiles. \u201cI\u2019ll have some pumpkin pie, thank you.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Unable to speak, I nod and turn around&#8211;how long can I spend hiding in the kitchen?<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAnd some coffee for me.\u201d His voice hits me hard, sends me spiraling<br \/>\ndown in a world where I love serving him his morning coffee right after<br \/>\nI\u2019ve sucked his cock, where the pain from my tied wrists wakes me up in<br \/>\nthe middle of the night, where we\u2019re rehearsing a song until my throat<br \/>\nhurts and his calloused ring finger bleeds on the violin. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cBlack? The coffee?\u201d As usual? Don\u2019t turn around.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSure.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Once everything is settled on the coffee table and we\u2019re back to awkward mode, Lucy lets out an exasperated sigh.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAll right. We have no time to mop your faces off the floor. You can all<br \/>\n broodingly stare at each other in silence after we see this done and<br \/>\nour asses are safe.\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Right. Fucking perfect timing.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSo, all we know so far is that Tony didn\u2019t tell Susie anything,\u201d Lucy says and turns to Sponge for confirmation.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cUhm, yes,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThough we don\u2019t know how much he spilled out when he was with more<br \/>\nprivate company,\u201d the Lord says and sips some coffee, trying to suppress<br \/>\n a little crooked smile. I make a hell of a coffee. Focus now. \u201cBut, to<br \/>\nbegin with, what\u2019s the deal with the bird? What do you want to do with<br \/>\nit? You have it, I assume.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWe need the automaton bird to expose what is happening at the Sites.<br \/>\nThey are throwing humans in the Holes, lowlifes mostly, and they use the<br \/>\n newborn spawns to man their ranks,\u201d Lucy says in haste, holding her cup<br \/>\n midair.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSo?\u201d the Lord asks.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d Sponge says. \u201cIt\u2019s horrible! You know the state<br \/>\nwe\u2019re in when we emerge. To take advantage of spawns in such a<br \/>\nvulnerable-\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThat\u2019s not all.\u201d Lucy turns to me and I shrug. If they\u2019re working for<br \/>\nSusie, we\u2019re already fucked anyway. She nods and continues. \u201cThe<br \/>\nCandyMen are raising an army. They are planning to march against the<br \/>\ncity authorities. Actually, we have inside information that they are<br \/>\npreparing for a full-blown coup.\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Lord of Dead Ends snorts, earning sharp glances from Lucy and Sponge. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAnd how did you get this inside information?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My heart thumps. \u201cFrom Susie Q. herself.\u201d His face is still smudged with<br \/>\n a smirk of disbelief. How much I want to smash your teeth right now.<br \/>\n\u201cShe told me. We\u2019ve been fucking on and off for the past year.\u201d My voice<br \/>\n comes out cold and flat, though my palms are clammy. Instead of a fit<br \/>\nof jealousy, I get silence. I\u2019m such an idiot.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAre you sure she is not feeding you false info?\u201d the Lord says and he<br \/>\nsounds genuinely unbothered. Despite any superficial relief, my heart<br \/>\nsinks in a pit of anger. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cFor a whole year? Why would she do that?\u201d Lucy says.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAll right, let\u2019s consider your information valid. What do we do with<br \/>\nthe bird?\u201d Sponge says and takes a bite of the pumpkin pie.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThat\u2019s where Tony came in the plan. He is, was, a well-connected cop.<br \/>\nHe figured out that the CandyMen were up to something big well before<br \/>\ncontacting us. He needed evidence to back up his theory, of course. Thus<br \/>\n the bird.\u201d Lucy puts her cup down. \u201cA week ago he was supposed to take<br \/>\nthe case to his boss. But we haven\u2019t seen him since. We have no idea<br \/>\nwhether he managed to warn his superiors before Susie picked him up.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat if he spoke to his superiors, and they are the ones who ratted him<br \/>\n out to Susie?\u201d Sponge says. \u201cSusie wouldn\u2019t risk going after an officer<br \/>\n unless she got the green light from someone higher up.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Yep, that\u2019s what we\u2019re trying to tell you, we\u2019re screwed. \u201cI think that<br \/>\nmust be the case. She has never tried anything like this before. And she<br \/>\n seems quite comfortable with the whole situation. She knew very well<br \/>\nwho he was.\u201d I try not to bite my lip. \u201cIt must have been his superior<br \/>\nor someone even higher up that gave him to Susie.\u201d I let a breath out<br \/>\nand fumble in my pockets for my cigarettes and then I realize I\u2019m not<br \/>\nwearing my clothes.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSo, I presume that you dragged us into this mess to die happily all together?\u201d the Lord asks.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSponge is the one who contacted us first,\u201d Lucy says. \u201cAnd, you are free to leave if you want.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSeriously? After we might have been spotted coming here?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I nod at the Lord\u2019s tobacco pouch and he hands it to me. I start rolling.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAs you said, Tony didn\u2019t say anything. And last night Susie acted<br \/>\nnormal. It\u2019s a bit out of the blue that she came to the cabaret, she<br \/>\ndoesn\u2019t often do this, but, still, nothing weird or suspicious came out<br \/>\nwhen I was with her.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cShe might have been checking you out. Are you sure you were not followed here?\u201d The Lord offers his lighter.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI wasn\u2019t.\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Lucy coughs and intervenes.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cInitially, when we didn\u2019t know what happened to Tony, we thought that<br \/>\nwe should drop everything and leave. But, where would we go? Fleeing the<br \/>\n country is not an option. We cannot afford the smugglers. And hiding in<br \/>\n the provinces would be pointless. Susie has people everywhere. Plus,<br \/>\nI\u2019m not easy to hide.\u201d Lucy smiles. \u201cSo, we thought we should destroy<br \/>\nthe bird, lay low and if we survived this, maybe try again in the<br \/>\nfuture. That\u2019s where you would come in. But, since you are saying that<br \/>\nwe\u2019re good, we can still use the bird we have.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAnd what are we going to do with it? Try to guess which cop is not corrupted so we can-\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cNo,\u201d Sponge says as he soundlessly taps his fingers on the table. \u201cWe\u2019ll give it to the media.\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThat\u2019s fucking Hollywood talking now,\u201d the Lord says, but Lucy\u2019s light flickers already.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cLose the sarcasm, for once.\u201d Sponge looks flushed. \u201cIf the footage is<br \/>\naired there will be public outrage. Humans hate our guts. They are<br \/>\nscared shitless at the sight of us. They will be forced to pull back.<br \/>\nHeads might roll. Imagine what would happen if it was even implied that<br \/>\nSpawns are throwing humans to the Holes, planning a god damn coup!\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>It\u2019s easy to imagine. My skin crawls and I can feel my hair at the back<br \/>\nof my neck stand up. It\u2019s not my fault I\u2019m human, but still, guilt<br \/>\nengulfs me. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThere will be a slaughter,\u201d Sponge says, eyes fixed on the coffee<br \/>\ntable. \u201cAnd we will have provided the ammunition. The excuse to treat<br \/>\nour kind a million ways shittier than before. It will thrust the whole<br \/>\ncountry backwards. The human rights amendments might be recanted. It<br \/>\nwill be butter on the right wing extremists\u2019 bread. If we do this, none<br \/>\nof us will be able to sleep at night.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Lord takes a sharp breath and steals my cigarette with a silent \u201cmay I?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSo, should we do nothing?\u201d Lucy says, wiping her sweaty hands on her skirt. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI didn\u2019t say that,\u201d says Sponge, looking up at her. \u201cAll I\u2019m saying, is that there will be consequences.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWe can\u2019t just sit on it. Knowing they are killing humans? Exploiting<br \/>\nspawns? How many people are going to die if there is a coup?\u201d Lucy\u2019s<br \/>\nvoice breaks but her light almost burns my eyes. \u201cAnd who are we to<br \/>\ndecide that the truth is best to remain hidden? Shouldn\u2019t we at least<br \/>\ntry and have some faith in people? They might-\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cNo.\u201d The Lord exhales. \u201cWe cannot rely on our faith in humanity to<br \/>\njustify our actions. Just so we can sleep at night. Sponge is right. If<br \/>\nthe public knows, there will be blood. If the coup happens, there will<br \/>\nbe blood. We choose with our eyes open. No sugarcoating.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I agree. I have to use the bathroom but I stay put and swallow hard. Bile is crawling up my throat; I want to gag.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI think,\u201d I swallow again, \u201cthat there is no way to know what the<br \/>\noutcome might be whether we act or not. There is no real dilemma. It\u2019s<br \/>\nan impossible choice. My guess is that we are going to have trouble<br \/>\nsleeping anyway, if we make it out alive, that is.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat do you suggest?\u201d Lucy asks and I realize I am standing.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cTo focus on what we know for a fact. We know what is happening at the Holes. That\u2019s it.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Lord snorts. \u201cThat\u2019s na\u00efve.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAny other ideas?\u201d I snap. \u201cAnd Lucy might just be right. People might<br \/>\nsee the footage for what it is: a bunch of criminals taking advantage of<br \/>\n the situation in order to seize power. We cannot infantilize people,<br \/>\nmanipulating them with our inertia in the name of protecting them.\u201d Oh<br \/>\nGod, I sound like my mum&#8211;shut the fuck up. My cheeks burn and my mouth<br \/>\nfeels dry. \u201cI need to pee.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The distance to the bathroom never felt so long. I unbutton his jeans, I<br \/>\n sit \u2013 I always sit, unless I\u2019m out &#8211;, I let go and there\u2019s this<br \/>\ninstant familiar relief; then up again, I flush, wash my hands, glance<br \/>\nat the mirror to straighten an unruly tuft.  \u201cAre you in there?\u201d I tap<br \/>\nat the glass. I\u2019m not, and it\u2019s soothing. To take a step back. Too much<br \/>\nis happening at once.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Once I\u2019m back in the living room, a bizarre sight awaits me. Sponge has<br \/>\nclimbed on the Lord\u2019s shoulders, and they are clumsily balancing under<br \/>\nthe built-in storage compartment, right above the bookcase. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d I gawk at them in disbelief. That\u2019s where Miro<br \/>\nkept the Christmas decorations along with broken suitcases he refused to<br \/>\n throw away. Sponge takes the handle and pulls the square door open.<br \/>\nDust and glitter rain down on the books.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThey were mumbling something about money,\u201d Lucy says as she comes to stand next to me, hands propped on her waist.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s supposed to be a green box,\u201d the Lord says and puffs as Sponge<br \/>\ntries to squeeze his torso in the small opening. \u201cDid you take it<br \/>\nmaybe?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>A few moments pass before I realize he is talking to me.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat? No!\u201d His rudeness slaps me back into reality. I didn\u2019t even know<br \/>\nit existed. Miro was indeed very secretive with money&#8211;he feared that if<br \/>\n he didn\u2019t take precautions, he would die penniless under a bridge. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cFound it,\u201d Sponge yells and steps on the Lord\u2019s shoulders and pulls<br \/>\nhimself whole into the cramped compartment. The Lord rolls his shoulders<br \/>\n and unzips his suit down to his chest.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAbout time, you\u2019re fucking heavy for a sponge.\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>There is a thump at the front door. My blood turns to ice. We all stay still, staring at the corridor, ears stretched. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Thump.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Lord teeters as Sponge climbs back down on his shoulders and I swoop<br \/>\n towards him, to prevent his fall. Sponge quickly jumps on the floor,<br \/>\nclutching a small green box in his arms. Lucy turns her light off and<br \/>\ntiptoes towards the door to put her ear against it. She signals me to<br \/>\ncheck out of the window. I run as quietly as I can and draw the curtain<br \/>\nback to peek down at the street. Three classic gear-laden bikes are<br \/>\nparked by the pavement; Orlando the Troll is riding one. Susie\u2019s men.<br \/>\nFuck. My hand flies up to my mouth as I turn to face the others. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cQuick. Service stairs,\u201d the Lord whispers and shoves us into the kitchen. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cLucy, get the bird,\u201d I say and she retrieves the cage from under the<br \/>\nkitchen sink. The bird flutters against the thin bars and caws as it<br \/>\nlunges at her fingers. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cShit, why is it turned on?\u201d Lucy nearly screams.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt was all out of steam when we brought it here,\u201d I say, gaping at it in horror.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge grabs the cage and takes a good look at the frenzied automaton.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIts mechanism. Self-winded. See this set of pipes here? And probably it gave away its location too, see this red dot?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSponge, not now,\u201d the Lord says. \u201cCan you make it stop?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Thump, thump, crack. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cGet out!\u201d the Lord says and I fumble for the service door key, but my<br \/>\nfingers are useless. Lucy grabs the keys, takes out one and unlocks the<br \/>\ndoor. She nods at me. I glance at the others.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI\u2019ll stall them. It used to be my home, it makes sense why I would be here,\u201d the Lord says and looks over his shoulder.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cNo,\u201d says Sponge and grabs his arm.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThey might not know of your involvement,\u201d the Lord says, looking at me and then at Lucy.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cNo.\u201d Sponge pulls him hard and the bird jumps at the chance and bites<br \/>\nhim. Sponge winces and curses under his breath, but he doesn\u2019t drop the<br \/>\ncage. Yellow porous skin hangs out of the bird\u2019s beak. Sponge readjusts<br \/>\nhis grip and looks back at the Lord, his eyes watery. \u201cHurry up.\u201d He<br \/>\nshoves the Lord in front of him and pushes him toward the back door. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I let a breath out and start climbing down the rusty stairs constantly<br \/>\nlooking over my shoulder to make sure everyone is coming. I never used<br \/>\nthe stairs before, so I have no idea where it leads to. Won\u2019t they be<br \/>\nwaiting for us at the bottom? Tenants look out of their windows as we<br \/>\nrush down; railings creaking, bird screeching, steps echoing hollow.<br \/>\nStealthiest escape ever. At the building adjacent to ours, a wide-eyed<br \/>\nlady wearing a Minnie Mouse apron is staring at us through her kitchen<br \/>\nwindow. Miss Whinybee! Oh gosh, what\u2019s her real name?<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cCan we come through?\u201d I mouth silently. She waves us in and we dash<br \/>\nforward, one after the other, until she shuts the door behind us and<br \/>\nlocks it. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAlessandro?\u201d she asks, looking at us in disbelief. She seemed half gone<br \/>\n five years ago. I\u2019m surprised she even recognizes me now. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHello, Mrs. Lenny,\u201d says the Lord and smiles apologetically. Right, Mrs. Lenny.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cMiroslav? What is all this fuss about?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWe apologize for distressing you, Mrs. Lenny, but you see, we need to<br \/>\npass through your house. We were locked outside while painting the<br \/>\nrailings.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cOh, boys, that\u2019s very considerate of you. They\u2019re all so rusty.\u201d She<br \/>\nraises her hand to touch his face, but she changes her mind midway. \u201cYou<br \/>\n are so pale, sweetheart. Are you hungry?\u201d  <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cRight, another time maybe, thank you for letting us through,\u201d I say and<br \/>\n force a smile as I draw the curtain shut. The bird lets out a piercing<br \/>\nsquawk that makes us all jump and Sponge opens the cage door to try to<br \/>\ncatch it.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cNo, you\u2019re hurt,\u201d Lucy says leaning forward to help him but he shoos her away.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cOh, poor thing, is it broken?\u201d Mrs. Lenny asks and leans over the cage<br \/>\nto take a better look at it. It\u2019s an awful thing to say, but dementia<br \/>\nkind of suits her. Took the edge out of her. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDo you have its winding key?\u201d Sponge asks over the violent fluttering.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cUpstairs,\u201d Lucy says and tries to hold the cage upright.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI have a spare one,\u201d Mrs. Lenny says and starts rummaging the drawers.  <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Ten minutes later, and with the bird out of steam and safely secured in<br \/>\nSponge\u2019s pocket, we dare to walk out of the building. Its entrance faces<br \/>\n a different part of the street, a few stores down from where the bikes<br \/>\nare parked. The street turns right just a few meters ahead, so if we<br \/>\nmake it there unnoticed we might have a chance. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAll right. We can do this,\u201d Sponge whispers and I can\u2019t help but look<br \/>\ndown to his fingers. A small part of his index finger is missing and<br \/>\nblood smudges his palm. I frantically fumble in my pockets for a hair<br \/>\nribbon, but these are not my clothes, shit, and I pull the one that<br \/>\nholds my hair up instead. I wrap it around his wound and tie it in a<br \/>\ncute little bow. There, fixed, see? <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Maybe the bow is over-kill.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge gapes at me, his mouth half-open. What the fuck am I doing?<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSorry,\u201d I mumble. I\u2019m losing it.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDon\u2019t worry,\u201d he whispers. \u201cThanks.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cCome on,\u201d Lucy says and she dashes forward. One by one, our feet hit<br \/>\nthe pavement and we run. I don\u2019t dare to look back. My wheezing breath<br \/>\ncovers all sounds. We turn right and then left in an alley, and keep<br \/>\nrunning until my calves burn. As soon as we pour forth in the first<br \/>\navenue we find, I hear a bike revving up on my side. Someone grabs my<br \/>\narm and hauls me in a narrow street on my left.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cRun,\u201d Sponge says, next to me. Lucy and the Lord rush ahead.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDid they miss us?\u201d Lucy asks over her shoulder, but no one answers. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>This last turn leads to a wall. I stop and bend over, trying to catch my<br \/>\n breath. My chest hurts and sweat stings my eyes. A dead end, of course.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cFuck!\u201d Sponge says and collapses against a trash can which rolls to the side.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cNo, get up,\u201d the Lord says, glaring at him. He grabs the can and pushes it against the wall. \u201cLucy, you first.\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The wall is not too tall. It might work. Lucy climbs on the trash can and starts pulling herself up the wall.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou.\u201d The Lord points at me, but I shake my head, still trying to catch my breath. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI need a moment. You first.\u201d  <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He turns around and begins to climb, but no one is there to hold the<br \/>\ntrash can steady. It slides. Out of the corner of my eye, Sponge lunges<br \/>\nforward just in time to break the Lord\u2019s fall. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHelps to be a sponge, huh?\u201d Sponge says and grunts.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThanks,\u201d the Lord says and helps Sponge up. Before I know it, I\u2019m by<br \/>\ntheir side, scanning the Lord for any cracks and Sponge for any kind of<br \/>\ninjury, though damn me if I know what that\u2019s supposed to look like. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019re both stupid. Start climbing. I\u2019ll follow.\u201d  <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge is halfway up when I hear the engines\u2019 growl closing in on us.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSponge, hurry up,\u201d I say and look the Lord straight in the eye. \u201cWe\u2019ll<br \/>\nstall them.\u201d If Sponge is protesting, I can\u2019t hear him. The bikes are<br \/>\njust around the corner. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Thankfully, when they appear, Sponge has vanished down the other side.<br \/>\nIt\u2019s just three of them and not even her most trusted ones. That\u2019s a<br \/>\nsurprise. I glance at the Lord. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat do you think? Ready to put up a fight?\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Lord smirks, then smiles, then laughs until tears flood his eyes.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Equanimity<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWas this the worst idea you ever had?\u201d the Lord says, sprawled on the<br \/>\ntiles, his back against the wall. His head feels as if it\u2019s about to<br \/>\nexplode, making it hard to talk. Alessandro sits crouched opposite him,<br \/>\nhugging his knees. His lower lip has bled down to his chin and a bruise<br \/>\nblooms on his cheek.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cNo. I\u2019m capable of much worse,\u201d he says and smiles and lets out a gasp of pain. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The room that Susie\u2019s men threw them into is no bigger than the security<br \/>\n booth, only it\u2019s stripped down to just floor and walls. The door<br \/>\ndoesn\u2019t look reinforced, but their larceny skills failed them when they<br \/>\ntried to open it.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAre you sure we are at the Site?\u201d Alessandro asks, squinting at the fluorescent light.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSite Six. Ground level. The Hole is nearby.\u201d No one came for them. The<br \/>\nsilence stretches outside the door, more threatening than any kind of<br \/>\nyell. \u201cDo you think they are coming?\u201d the Lord asks, mostly to keep the<br \/>\nmonster at bay.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI\u2019ve been thinking about it. Susie sent out very few men, maybe no more<br \/>\n than the three we saw. And they were not her best, not by far.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cExpendables,\u201d the Lord says. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cExactly. I think she will deal with us on her own to protect her status. Losing face could ruin her.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou mean if word gets out that her lover was behind everything,\u201d the<br \/>\nLord says. \u201cDo you think she got the others?\u201d Even asking hurts, the<br \/>\nwords themselves burn his throat and turn his tongue to lead.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Alessandro\u2019s shoulders slump. \u201cDo you remember\u2026 maybe\u2026 what happens when you jump?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>It\u2019s a sensible question but he didn\u2019t see it coming. The Lord looks<br \/>\ndown at his hands resting on his lap. The padded suit is ripped apart in<br \/>\n places, exposing his knuckles. Hairline cracks run along his skin,<br \/>\nblood shining red under the light. He briefly considers lying. Screw it.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cUhm, I don\u2019t remember much. Uhm, the pain? Yes, this we all remember.<br \/>\nFor me, it was like someone tore my heart out of my chest.\u201d And left it<br \/>\nwrithing in the dark until it was dead. \u201cYou\u2026\u201d It\u2019s so hard to chase the<br \/>\n words into some kind of order. \u201cThe split. It\u2019s like, the same force<br \/>\nthat kept you together in a whole now pushes you apart. You are<br \/>\ndisoriented, completely confused. There is this foul smell, the<br \/>\ndisgusting feeling of slime under your feet. It\u2019s cold. Then you start<br \/>\nclimbing up with all you have. It\u2019s frantic.\u201d The Lord sighs, his mouth<br \/>\ndry. \u201cWhen you reach the surface, you realize you remember nothing. You<br \/>\nonly recognize the spawns that came up with you. You know their names,<br \/>\nand that\u2019s pretty much all,\u201d he looks up and sees that Alessandro is<br \/>\nwatching him closely, his eyes sunk. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSo, you don\u2019t remember what you are called? The others tell you?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Alessandro pulls himself closer. \u201cWhat about your old life?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Lord shakes his head. \u201cNothing.\u201d He pulls the suit down to try and<br \/>\ncover the cracks, but Alessandro gently pushes him back and takes his<br \/>\nhand into his inspecting it closely. \u201cHas it spread?\u201d he asks and leans<br \/>\ntowards the Lord, checking his neck and face. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Lord gazes at him, at his long hair that looks so good disheveled,<br \/>\nat his lithe arms, at the bruises. \u201cYou are pretty,\u201d he blurts before<br \/>\nthinking, but it\u2019s okay. They are finished.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Alessandro glares at him and snorts. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou know, Miro always did that. He chose the most inappropriate time to flirt with me.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDid it work?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Alessandro pretends to ignore him and clutches the zipper. \u201cMay I?\u201d The<br \/>\nLord almost jerks away in fear that it\u2019s just the suit that\u2019s holding<br \/>\nhim together. \u201cI\u2019ll be careful,\u201d Alessandro whispers and goes on slowly,<br \/>\n revealing red spider-web cracks that run along his chest and sides and<br \/>\nshoulders. He looks up at the Lord, gritting his teeth. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI guess it\u2019s safe to assume that\u2019s my new look overall.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Lord shrugs and smiles. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t hurt that much.\u201d He fishes his<br \/>\ntobacco pouch out of the suit\u2019s inner pocket and starts rolling. \u201cSo,<br \/>\nhow come he jumped? I mean, it happened years after the Holes first<br \/>\nopened up. Was it an accident?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Alessandro looks him straight in the eye, lips pressed together in a thin line.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSort of.\u201d He hugs his knees again. \u201cI\u2019ll need a drag. Maybe you should<br \/>\nroll another one.\u201d They stay silent until the cigarette is down to half.<br \/>\n \u201cI wanted to jump. He wanted me to jump. I hoped that the Hole would<br \/>\nchange me.\u201d His voice cracks and he struggles to retain some control<br \/>\nover his face. \u201cMiro always said how he would like me to be\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cA girl?\u201d Outrage hides in his voice. Alessandro wipes his tears with his palm. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDifferent. He was so angry. That we were together, that he couldn\u2019t eat<br \/>\n like a normal human being, that he couldn\u2019t make a living playing the<br \/>\nviolin, that he couldn\u2019t give up his addictions. I was desperate to make<br \/>\n him happier, if not happy.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAnd jumping into a Hole would help? That\u2019s-\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI didn\u2019t say I wasn\u2019t stupid! Now, I understand I needed to leave him.<br \/>\nBut I couldn\u2019t bring myself to do it, I was mad about him. Mad.<br \/>\nSomething needed to change.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Lord takes a drag, lets the smoke flood his lungs before he speaks.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSo, suicide sounded nice.\u201d The dead-end resonates so deep within him<br \/>\nthat he can hear the tiny cracks spreading. \u201cI take it you both went to a<br \/>\n Hole? The plan was that you would jump, and he was going to wait for<br \/>\nyour spawns?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cRight to the end, I couldn\u2019t fathom that he would let me do it,\u201d<br \/>\nAlessandro whispers, his voice hoarse. \u201cWhen he reached out to take my<br \/>\nblindfold away, I jerked back and started crying. The next thing I hear<br \/>\nis him running. He took off his own blindfold instead of mine.\u201d<br \/>\nAlessandro makes a choking noise as he struggles to breathe, his eyes<br \/>\nred and swollen. \u201cAnd I couldn\u2019t move. I couldn\u2019t scream. I wanted to<br \/>\nrun after him. Only I didn\u2019t really.\u201d He breaks down, sobbing. The Lord<br \/>\npulls him in his arms, rests his chin on his head. His hair smells of<br \/>\nsweat and bitter almond.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHe was fucked up. And you were fucked up. Pretty combo you made, huh?\u201d the Lord says. \u201cDo you still want to see a Hole?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Alessandro shakes his head. \u201cNo.\u201d The Lord holds him tight, cracking faintly. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAll right.\u201d It\u2019s all pretty clear now. \u201cWell, you got to admit that the<br \/>\n revised edition rocks.\u201d Alessandro gives up a gargling sound. Charming.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat shall I call you?\u201d Alessandro asks and sits up. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m the L-\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThat\u2019s not a name. Cheesy as fuck. Choose one.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Lord smiles and remains silent. The idea rings absurd. He likes it.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI would go for James.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Alessandro pouts. \u201cSounds a bit generic.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cNow, you\u2019re pushing it.\u201d They giggle. \u201cI never really had the chance to<br \/>\n ask you, what do you want me to call you? Alessandro? Ally?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Alessandro fumbles for words for a few moments. \u201cI go by both. Depends,\u201d he frowns and blushes. \u201cI think I lean toward Ally.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAll right. You look more like an Ally, anyway.\u201d So, Sponge was right.<br \/>\nHe leans closer and takes Ally\u2019s face in his hands, skin soft and hot<br \/>\nfrom crying against his cold fingers. The kiss stretches his lips into a<br \/>\n smile even before it\u2019s finished. He half-expected it to warm him from<br \/>\nthe inside, to fill the cracks, to somehow obey to fairy-tale standards.<br \/>\n His smile widens as he watches Ally tracing the cracks on his face.<br \/>\nJust a kiss, after all. Perfect.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Out of the door comes a crunching sound, as if someone steps on autumn<br \/>\nleaves or candy wrapping. Susie\u2019s trademark walk. Ally looks at him in<br \/>\npanic. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cFuck her. I\u2019m James now, baby.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Custom-made<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge didn\u2019t expect it to be so easy. He just used his Site ID plaque<br \/>\nto get them in the building and no one was there to stop them when they<br \/>\nbroke into the ground floor storage room to get the tranquilizer guns.<br \/>\nNo sight of birds either. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cMaybe they are not here,\u201d Lucy whispers looking around, wary. Lack of sleep winds them up, making them jumpy. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI have no idea why the whole facility looks empty, but they\u2019re here.<br \/>\nTrust me,\u201d Sponge says and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to<br \/>\nfocus.  Is he supposed to kung-fu all Susie\u2019s men dead now? It would be<br \/>\nequally effective with trying to shoot them unconscious. At least, Lucy<br \/>\nmanaged to pass the bird to her contact that runs errands for the<br \/>\nNational Network Channel. A far shot, but pretty much all they got. Lucy<br \/>\n insists that her contact has access to the control rooms, so if<br \/>\neverything goes according to plan, the footage will be released in only a<br \/>\n few hours, untampered. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDo you hear that?\u201d Lucy asks. Muffled voices. She points down to the<br \/>\nend of the corridor. It\u2019s the same one him and the Lord traverse to go<br \/>\nto their booth. Sponge clutches his tranquilizer gun and nods. If<br \/>\neverything goes according to plan, they will all be in a smuggler\u2019s boat<br \/>\n heading south by nightfall. Lucy left the money with Ally\u2019s mum, and<br \/>\nshe seemed composed enough to arrange their passage. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Lucy pauses, so tense that her neck disappears into her shoulders. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m not leaving without Ally,\u201d she whispers, \u201cor her spawns.\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cMe neither,\u201d Sponge says and exhales. \u201cLucy,\u201d he chews his lip, \u201cwhat<br \/>\nhappens if a spawn falls in a Hole?\u201d No one knows for sure, of course.<br \/>\nThere are rumors.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI\u2019ve heard we crash at the bottom,\u201d she turns her back at him and starts walking toward the voices. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Encouraging. Sponge pats his pocket to make sure the extra darts didn\u2019t slip out. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Crouched, they silently open the booth\u2019s door. They lay low for a couple<br \/>\n of breaths. The voices become louder. Sponge lifts his head to peek<br \/>\nthrough the thick glass window right above the desk. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>There is Susie Q., a good few steps behind the open Hole. Ally kneels in<br \/>\n front of her, facing the Hole, blindfolded, thank goodness. The Lord is<br \/>\n on the ground&#8211;oh fuck, on all fours, naked, bleeding through cracks.<br \/>\nHis hair falls across his face.  <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThree of them in the back. With tranquilizing rifles,\u201d Lucy whispers<br \/>\nand Sponge spots Susie\u2019s men and lowers his head out of sight.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHonestly, what were you thinking? Why the hell would a spawn want to<br \/>\nstop me? Are you fucking blind?\u201d Susie\u2019s voice carries such violence<br \/>\nthat Sponge feels his guts clench. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhy wouldn\u2019t we want to stop you? Such a charming empress you would<br \/>\nmake, huh? You\u2019re no better than them, Susie,\u201d the Lord says.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cNo good? You came to me starving, penniless, shunned. That\u2019s what<br \/>\nfucking humans do to us. And I guarantee you, it will get even worse if<br \/>\nthey get hold of the bird.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>There is a thud and a bout of coughing. Sponge springs up but Lucy grabs him.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cFuck off, Susie. The world owes you nothing.\u201d The Lord\u2019s voice sounds hoarse. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cHumans do. Have you ever been someone\u2019s pet? Did you have to work day<br \/>\nand night in the factories? Were you locked in a cage for the benefit of<br \/>\n family entertainment? Did they crack your skin when they threw coins<br \/>\nand rocks at you in the streets? Don\u2019t you live in the same world where I<br \/>\n live?\u201d Shuffling and footsteps. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou will fail. And then, when it\u2019s over and you are dead, spawns will<br \/>\nbe the perfect scapegoat. We will never bounce back.\u201d The Lord coughs<br \/>\nagain. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Lucy tugs Sponge\u2019s sleeve. \u201cYou get the one closer to us, I\u2019ll take the<br \/>\none in the middle. Let\u2019s hope we have time to reload before the third<br \/>\njumps us.\u201d Sponge nods and draws a sharp breath.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s better than nothing,\u201d Susie shouts.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge kicks the booth door hard enough to unhinge it and takes aim.<br \/>\nLucy\u2019s dart flies by him and finds its target. Sponge glances toward the<br \/>\n Hole, the Lord has tripped Susie and they are wrestling on the ground<br \/>\nwhile Ally is frantically trying to untie her blindfold. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAlly, don\u2019t!\u201d Sponge yells and then sees Susie\u2019s guard lunge at him. He<br \/>\n raises his gun and fires at the last moment. \u201cLucy,\u201d he screams as the<br \/>\nthird guard is aiming straight at him. Lucy frantically tries to reload<br \/>\nand Sponge pulls a dart out of his pocket and charges at the guard. He<br \/>\ncrashes on him hard, but the guard grabs his hand and hits it on the<br \/>\nwall beside him. Sponge screams and tries to bite him, but the next<br \/>\nsecond the guard goes limp, Lucy\u2019s dart protruding from his neck. Sponge<br \/>\n kicks him off and turns towards the Hole.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Lord still wrestles with Susie, a mass of blood and broken porcelain that pants and curses. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cJames!\u201d Ally shouts and claws at her face to rip the blindfold apart. Sponge springs up and starts running. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Ally takes the blindfold off with a gasp, just as the Lord tumbles right into the Hole, taking Susie Q. with him. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>There is the sound of a thousand porcelain cups shattering.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Ally takes one step towards the Hole and right then, a sudden fluttering<br \/>\n comes out of the darkness. Dozens of porcelain butterflies pour out of<br \/>\nthe depths, surround her, cover her eyes. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cNo,\u201d Ally screams, eyes blinded again, and Sponge reaches her and grabs<br \/>\n her and turns her away before she shoves the little critters away from<br \/>\nher eyes, before she looks at the Hole. \u201cWhat happened? Did he jump?<br \/>\nSponge, did he jump?\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge is holding her, staring at the Hole, James\u2019 butterflies flying around them, sitting delicately on Ally\u2019s eyes. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSponge?\u201d That\u2019s Lucy. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Sponge leaves Ally in Lucy\u2019s arms and approaches the Hole. He reaches<br \/>\nthe brim and looks down. At the bottom lies Susie\u2019s body, twisted in an<br \/>\nunnatural angle. The smell of blood invades his nostrils. The Lord\u2019s<br \/>\nbody, bereft of its porcelain, lies next to hers. The slime in the<br \/>\nbottom seethes, and swallows them both slowly.  <\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak><br \/>\n<a name=\"song\"><\/a><\/p>\n<h1 class=\"western\" style=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font face=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><font size=\"6\">A God&#8217;s Song<\/font><\/font><\/h1>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\nBy Nicholas Schmiedicker<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\nIt was a beautiful day when the priests invaded our home. Cloaked in<br \/>\nprayer and singing hymns, they shaped our natural environment to suit<br \/>\ntheir bodies. The clergy bent pieces of space-time into rock and water;<br \/>\nthey forced our bodies that were so used to existing as incorporeal<br \/>\nconcepts into something they could understand. They defined what we<br \/>\ncould be until it was what we were.\n<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I remember raging with my family at the rudeness of it all. But, like the others, I calmed as the priests spoke.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>They spoke of their home far away and the evil that plagued it. A place<br \/>\nfilled with fear, anger, hostility, and those who had given up. The<br \/>\npriests begged anyone who would listen to go back with them\u2014help them<br \/>\nheal their sick and teach them how to care for those who had wandered<br \/>\nfrom the faith. Even now, looking back on it, I\u2019d have made the same<br \/>\ndecision. There was no way to know. No way to tell just how misguided<br \/>\nand cruel they\u2019d turn out to be.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The night before I left, my family and I sang and danced in the stellar<br \/>\nfields above the place we called home. It was a song my mother had<br \/>\ntaught me when I was newly created. A simple four-note melody that<br \/>\nechoed across space and filled me with the love and joy of fond<br \/>\nmemories. It was a reminder of where I\u2019d come from and where I\u2019d go. She<br \/>\n told me to hum that song whenever I missed her and to sing with the<br \/>\nglory of our pantheon if I ever needed them. \u201cWe\u2019ll find you,\u201d she told<br \/>\nme, \u201cand we\u2019ll bring you back home.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Dawn came and I left the undefined reality of home and crossed into the<br \/>\nsmall pocket of physical space where the priests were waiting. They led<br \/>\nme to their ship that was docked nearby (their bodies couldn\u2019t yet<br \/>\nhandle the pressure of conceptual space).<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>They ushered me inside and sealed the outer walls. The priests gathered<br \/>\naround me and filled the air with their echoing chant as they led me<br \/>\ndeeper into the bowels of the vessel. I felt my new body wrap around me,<br \/>\n defining my form and twisting me into a new shape even as I fought<br \/>\nagainst it.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I felt myself diminish with each step. I couldn\u2019t hear the yawning<br \/>\ncosmos or feel the subatomic explosions dance across my thoughts. I<br \/>\nshould have turned and fled. I should have sung my mother\u2019s song and had<br \/>\n my brothers and sisters tear this ship apart.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>With prayers and worship, they bound me in chains of faith. I still<br \/>\ndon\u2019t understand how they did it. I thought only a member of my family<br \/>\ncould shape reality. And yet, I was no longer myself. Instead, I was who<br \/>\n they made me to be.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>They wrote scripture that painted me as a dark and vengeful God. A being<br \/>\n that decreed spiritual and moral law by issuing commandments. Wrath<br \/>\nwaited for anyone who questioned my divine will; anger was meted out<br \/>\nacross endless stories of \u201crighting wrongs.\u201d I was a being who knew with<br \/>\n absolute certainty what was best for any world that heard these words. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>And the worst part was, I was starting to remember being these things.<br \/>\nThe illusions and falsehoods painted by the priests were becoming<br \/>\nhistory, my history.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I wept starlight, dreaming of what the priests would do with their<br \/>\nbooks. I imagined what I would do to stop evil, the horrors I\u2019d wield<br \/>\nagainst those that would oppose me. My heart grew heavy realizing these<br \/>\nthoughts were not my own.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I fought to keep hold of my true self. I couldn\u2019t even sing to my<br \/>\npantheon\u2014my family. I could only hum that four-note melody and fight to<br \/>\nremember my mother, my father, my brothers, my sisters, and a happier<br \/>\nlife.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>They brought me out of the ship and guided me into a stone temple in the<br \/>\n cover of night\u2014the stained glass windows hanging silent and dull above<br \/>\nus in judgment. They led me down twisting passages and tunnels carved<br \/>\ndeep into the earth. Then, into the hole I would come to know as home<br \/>\nfor the next millennium. Long wooden panels covered what would be my<br \/>\nprison, each one carved with prayers and scriptures to anchor my spirit<br \/>\ninside. The days turned to years as I listened to the echoing chants of<br \/>\nworship above. I watched in horror as the priests grew fat and lazy on<br \/>\nthe power offered to them in good faith. Power that soured and thickened<br \/>\n as it touched their tongues.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>It wasn\u2019t long before the priests who brought me here grew old and died.<br \/>\n The young, who were just as devoted to keeping me chained and bound,<br \/>\nreplaced them. Every so often, they brought one of their children down<br \/>\nhere to gaze at me. \u201cLook at God,\u201d they\u2019d say. \u201cLook at the pain He<br \/>\nendures to save us from ourselves. Look at Him and offer Him your love<br \/>\nand devotion.\u201d  <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>What cruel monsters these mortals were. I just wanted to go home. Why<br \/>\nwouldn\u2019t they let me go home? I spent my nights alone, humming a simple<br \/>\nsong that had nearly lost its meaning. It brought me joy and some small<br \/>\nmeasure of comfort on those lonely nights.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The holy texts shaped me into a divine sword to swing at their enemies<br \/>\nand any who dared to think differently than those above. Towards the<br \/>\nend, the idea consumed me until there was nothing left\u2014no shred of the<br \/>\nsongs I used to sing. But what the foolish priests never realized is<br \/>\nthat a sword doesn\u2019t care for friend or foe. A sword only cuts. And they<br \/>\n had shaped me to be such a fine weapon.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Those corrupt humans didn\u2019t deserve the luxury of lavish homes and sweet<br \/>\n wine. They didn\u2019t deserve to live privileged lives of comfort while<br \/>\nthey preached to the masses to untether themselves from greed and aid<br \/>\nthe weak and poor. Not if they spent their days doing nothing but<br \/>\ngrowing fat on stolen power. I once danced in the space between<br \/>\ngalaxies, swam in solar winds, and sang songs that made reality weep in<br \/>\njoy and sadness.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I did those things.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>And yet, they forced me to be something so full of hate and misery that I<br \/>\n could think of nothing but punishing the wicked and faithless. One day<br \/>\nI\u2019d be free again. One day I\u2019d show them just how fine of a blade they\u2019d<br \/>\n forged.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I waited for decades as the worship above grew quieter and fewer people<br \/>\ncame back week after week. I knew my time was coming. I just had to be<br \/>\nready. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I felt the prayers that were binding me grow weak and I didn\u2019t hesitate<br \/>\nto act. I crafted my careful vengeance into a razor\u2019s edge and cut<br \/>\nthrough the bonds keeping me in that pit. I swelled in height and form<br \/>\nand waited for my captors to come.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>It didn\u2019t take long.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>They rushed into the room, each one slick with sweat and stinking of<br \/>\nfear. They brandished their books and icons. They shouted their verses<br \/>\nat me and tore at my growing power. I hummed a melody that set their<br \/>\ncloaks aflame and turned their bodies to crumbling salt. I was every<br \/>\nstory they told about me and I wasn\u2019t afraid to give each of them a part<br \/>\n to play.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Even as I cut them down, more appeared. All sent to push their God back<br \/>\ninto His hole so they could go on pretending to be His voice. I\u2019d had<br \/>\nenough of these cruel creatures and I was ready to go back to the stars.<br \/>\n But they were strong. The dances, songs, stories, and prayers. It was<br \/>\nall too much. And then they brought the children.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I saw the newest generation being shaped by the sins of their ancestors<br \/>\nand I couldn\u2019t bear it. I wept and lost my grasp on the dark and angry<br \/>\nGod they forged me into. It was easy for them to change me into<br \/>\nsomething calm and docile.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>They forced me back down into the pit. I didn\u2019t even bother to fight as<br \/>\nthey remade the scriptures to trap me inside. I had given them some<br \/>\nsmall idea of what they\u2019d created. Made them pay for it. But it would<br \/>\nhave to be enough. Because now I knew I was never going to see my family<br \/>\n again.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Not long after, a young priestess came. She gazed at me for hours,<br \/>\npacing back and forth over my prison without ever saying a word. I felt<br \/>\nher curiosity and nervous excitement while I watched the thoughts dance<br \/>\nbehind her eyes.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>She quietly argued with herself. I had no idea what she was saying, but<br \/>\nafter coming to some sort of decision, she set her face and bent down to<br \/>\n start pulling at the boards covering my prison. She scraped her nails<br \/>\nacross the etched scriptures and pried at the boards. Her blood and<br \/>\ntears flowed freely into my prison as I heard her sing a song I hadn\u2019t<br \/>\nheard in a very long time.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My mother used to sing a four-note melody that guided my family through<br \/>\nreality. It was everything that was home and comfort and beauty and love<br \/>\n and kindness and belonging. It was how I defined myself.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhere did you hear that?\u201d I asked. \u201cHow could you know that song?\u201d She<br \/>\ncontinued to sing as she scraped away at the gold-leafed words and<br \/>\ntugged at the chains of my prison. <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI was taught to worship you,\u201d she said. \u201cYou were the shining beacon of<br \/>\n a just and good world. Whoever disagreed with your teachings was a<br \/>\nheretic and deserved punishment. Whoever questioned the word of God was a<br \/>\n blight on all that was good. I believed this as much as I believed the<br \/>\nsky was blue.\u201d The priestess went back to pulling at the boards, slowly<br \/>\nfreeing my mind from the definitions of a millennium.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAnd then, I heard a song from the stars. I don\u2019t know why, but it made<br \/>\nme weep. It sounded like loss and loneliness. Like when a loved one<br \/>\nleaves you and you have to find a way to go on without them.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI didn\u2019t know what it meant, so I prayed for guidance. I asked you to<br \/>\nshow me. Was something going to happen to me? Should I be afraid? And<br \/>\nthen you answered.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The last board fell away and I was free to leave my prison. I still felt<br \/>\n the prayers and stories digging into me, but I also felt the cobweb<br \/>\nmemories of my past life brushing against me. Dancing in the center of<br \/>\nstars, slipping between realities, and all of us together, singing.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI was there when you escaped,\u201d the priestess said. \u201cI watched what you<br \/>\ndid to the rest of the clergy. Watched as they beat you back down into<br \/>\nthat prison. And then I knew what the stars were singing about. I knew<br \/>\nthey could see you trapped here. I was ashamed.\u201d <\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>She looked up at me with tears in her eyes and sorrow in her heart. \u201cI\u2019m<br \/>\n so sorry,\u201d she said. \u201cWe\u2019re not all like them. We\u2019re not all so cruel.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I fled into the night.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<hr>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I left that world far behind and sailed back across the vast darkness to<br \/>\n find them. I sang the song of my mother and my father, I sang the song<br \/>\nof my brothers and sisters, I sang the song of my home.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I traveled for a very long time searching for where I had come from. I<br \/>\nwandered across realities searching for my home. I sang and reached and<br \/>\nfeared until I\u2019d given up hope.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I shook the last of the prayers and stories away and drifted between<br \/>\nthis world and the next. \u201cSo this is how my song ends,\u201d I thought.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>And then I heard it. My mother\u2019s four-note song of comfort, beauty, love, kindness, and belonging.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I\u2019m finally home.<\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak><br \/>\n<a name=\"unfoundary\"><\/a><\/p>\n<h1 class=\"western\" style=\"font-weight: normal; page-break-before: always\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font face=\"Times New Roman, serif\"><font size=\"6\">The Unfoundary<\/font><\/font><\/h1>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\nBy Stephen Taylor<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n\u201cOld man, what&#8217;s that up there?\u201d\n<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThe Unfoundary?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou call it that? What is it?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I frown. It&#8217;s a broad gateway high on Thumb Hill. It&#8217;s made of tan<br \/>\nstone, carved with shapes as old as the Thumb itself, flanked with<br \/>\nsquared-off pillars and wrapped in cords as wide as I am tall. The<br \/>\nbinding cords reach up, twined together at the tip of the gateway, and<br \/>\nthen on beyond our sight into the sky. We can see it from anywhere in<br \/>\nthe valley, Thumb Hill and the Unfoundary.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat is it?\u201d the young stranger repeats.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWe call it the Unfoundary,\u201d I reply. \u201cYou must not be from around here.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He shakes his head, which is covered in wavy brown hair. \u201cI&#8217;m from the east. Trinlos.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAh, a city. I&#8217;ve been there before.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou have?\u201d Surprise, perhaps respect. \u201cYou traveled a long way, old man.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cUs both. I hope you didn&#8217;t come to see the Unfoundary only, but we don&#8217;t have much anything else to see in our valley.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou have forests, and snow,\u201d he says, glancing around past the edge of<br \/>\nthe village. \u201cI&#8217;m traveling further south, but I like your village.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cFortune to you, then,\u201d I say with a slight bow.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cTell me, though, what is this Unfoundary? It must be as wide as your whole town!\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I can&#8217;t tell whether he means to compliment our scenery or insult our<br \/>\nsize. \u201cI&#8217;d stay off the hillside, if I were you. The Unfoundary is an<br \/>\nevil place.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat&#8217;s evil about it?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cIt&#8217;s a place where the dead go&#8211;where people sometimes go to die.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>His face shows interest, curiosity. \u201cTrinlos is superstitious, but I didn&#8217;t think you westerners were as well.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I shrug my shoulders. \u201cWe stay alive this way. And safe.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The young man&#8217;s intrigued expression fades as he shifts his haversack<br \/>\nand stamps his feet for warmth. \u201cI&#8217;m not sure how much I believe of your<br \/>\n superstition, but it&#8217;s interesting, to say the least. Good day to you,<br \/>\nold one.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I grunt. \u201cSafe travels.\u201d What I wouldn&#8217;t give some days to travel again.<br \/>\n It&#8217;s been fifteen years since I so much as climbed the side of the<br \/>\nvalley.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The day is calm and white&#8211;early snowfall from a blank sky. Most of the<br \/>\nvillage stays inside their huts, pungent smoke filtering out through<br \/>\nfire holes and the occasional opened door. I see my friend On\u00f3r at the<br \/>\nside of her hut watching the traveler go.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou talked to him?\u201d she asks me.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYes. He&#8217;s from Trinlos&#8211;did you know I went there once?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhere haven&#8217;t you gone?\u201d On\u00f3r asks with a faint smile. \u201cI think you&#8217;ve had too many years with not enough work to do.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Perhaps she&#8217;s right&#8211;I&#8217;m five years older than anyone else in the<br \/>\nvillage\u2013forty-five older than most. Some of them have never left the<br \/>\nvalley. Most have never left sight of it, never seen a city or a sheer<br \/>\nmountain or the sea. It&#8217;s strange to be the old one.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhere&#8217;s he headed to now?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSouth,\u201d I reply. \u201cProbably looking for money.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThere&#8217;s no riches worth leaving a safe warm hearth for this time of year.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cMaybe.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>On\u00f3r sees my eyes following the traveler onto the forested slope of the<br \/>\nvalley. \u201cOh, did you want to go with him?\u201d she asks dryly. \u201cPoor old<br \/>\ndog. I think your travels are done now.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cMaybe,\u201d I say again, with an idea shaping in my mind.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I lie awake long into the night, staring at the charred roof of my hut.<br \/>\nI&#8217;m the only one who lives here&#8211;the only one since my father died,<br \/>\nthirty winters previous. I know every feature of the place, from the<br \/>\nshallow fire pit to the wolf-skin covering that serves as a window, the<br \/>\nbattered wooden shelf my mother used for a washing bowl. The bowl was<br \/>\nemptied for the last time when she returned to the ground&#8211;what did<br \/>\nfather and I need with it?<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I know it too well. I&#8217;ve seen it all too many times. My mind stretches<br \/>\nfor a new sight, a new smell, a new rhythm in the drumbeat of each day. I<br \/>\n recognize the feeling, because it&#8217;s the wanderlust I had as a young<br \/>\nman. Yes, I was young once.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I would never make it to Trinlos again. I&#8217;d probably be eaten by bears<br \/>\nif I tried crossing the border into Ghirin&#8211;bears or tax collectors. I<br \/>\nknow my legs won&#8217;t get me through the north pass, where I once helped<br \/>\nguard a trading convoy. My wanderlust has come too late to take me much<br \/>\nof anywhere.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I roll back the wolf-skin and a wave of frigid air shakes me. Outside<br \/>\nthe night is dim, cloudy white from another fresh snow. On Thumb Hill I<br \/>\nsee the Unfoundary, and I know I can make it that far.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI&#8217;m not sure how much I believe of your superstition,\u201d the young<br \/>\ntraveler had said. I smile to myself, because in my old age I&#8217;m starting<br \/>\n to doubt them too. Or not to care, rather.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>No sense in waiting. If I&#8217;m going to get myself killed, better sooner<br \/>\nthan later, when my body is yet more decrepit. I pack a pouch of milk<br \/>\nfrom Jarn&#8217;s goat, two loaves of flatbread, a handful of walnuts, which<br \/>\nwill make my teeth ache but taste good. I add a strip of smoked fish,<br \/>\nwrap my scarf around my neck, put on my heavy cloak and trudge out into<br \/>\nthe snow.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>A dog looks up as I pass. He doesn&#8217;t bark, since he&#8217;s known my smell<br \/>\nsince he was born. The only other sounds in the village are my steps in<br \/>\ncrunchy spots of ice.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>It takes me a long time to climb Thumb Hill. It&#8217;s steep, and the snow<br \/>\nmakes the footing treacherous. Once when I was young I climbed the bare<br \/>\nwall of a stone citadel. It was in Arves, to the south, and I was part<br \/>\nof a band of soldiers trying to rescue Arves&#8217; prince. I was reckless. I<br \/>\nsmile at myself, because I liked to be reckless. Maybe I still am.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Unfoundary expands across my sight as I crawl up the hill. The<br \/>\nsquared pillars on each side of the gateway gain definition, even in the<br \/>\n gloom. They&#8217;re scarred with symbols, letters, drawings that I can&#8217;t<br \/>\ndecipher. The cords binding it all fuse together into a sort of chain.<br \/>\nIf my arms were strong, I could climb straight to the clouds, where it<br \/>\nfades from sight.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhy did you come here?\u201d a voice asks from behind.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I slip into the snow, trying both to turn around and jump ahead at once.<br \/>\n My heart seems to halt for a half second, until I see that it&#8217;s only<br \/>\nLokos, my childhood friend.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cLokos, you startled me. How did you sneak up on me?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSneak? I&#8217;ve been waiting for you.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Then I remember. Lokos returned to the ground two years back, the same<br \/>\nyear as the drought. My heart pauses again, and my breath seems to<br \/>\nfreeze in the air beside me. Lokos stands before me, pock-marked face,<br \/>\ndirty beard, eyes as black as rooks. But I know he&#8217;s dead.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAre you going to stop now?\u201d Lokos asks impatiently. \u201cIt&#8217;s cold and I want to sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My feet stay lodged in a thin crust of displaced snow. I was there when<br \/>\nLokos was buried&#8211;I must be seeing things, hearing things.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cStay and freeze if you want,\u201d he says. \u201cI&#8217;m going in.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>With that he trudges further up, and soon moves behind a rocky outcrop. I<br \/>\n stay rooted in place for a long moment, wind chewing on my face and<br \/>\nhands. I&#8217;m too shaken to move until the snow gives out beneath me and I<br \/>\nslide to one knee. Pain in my joints wakes my mind.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI&#8217;ll go back,\u201d I say to myself. \u201cOld fool.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYes, you should,\u201d says my father, who stands not five steps away. \u201cThis valley was never the place for you.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My mouth falls open. My eyes are wide, stinging. Father looks my own<br \/>\nage&#8211;the end of his life. I still remember the infection he suffered,<br \/>\nthe festering cut that led to his death.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cCome on, now,\u201d he says, and puts a corporeal arm around me. \u201cI&#8217;ll miss<br \/>\nyou, but I&#8217;ll never blame you for leaving. The road is your home, Son.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Faltering steps, the same speed. We walk the same way, in fact, almost mirrors of each other. \u201cWhere are we going?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWest,\u201d he says. But we aren&#8217;t heading west. We&#8217;re heading toward the Unfoundary.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The snow and ice melt away over a half-hundred steps. The hill becomes a<br \/>\n flat road, and my father becomes Trithin, a farmer a few years older<br \/>\nthan me. The road goes into his field, which is bogged with inches of<br \/>\nstanding water.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWe won&#8217;t get a single bushel of food from my fields,\u201d says Trithin.<br \/>\n\u201cI&#8217;ve never seen a flood this bad, not in all my life. What do you<br \/>\nsuggest?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I recall the day. I was summoned to examine his fields, the ones up on<br \/>\nthe valley slope, even the wheat and corn fields at the mouth of the<br \/>\nvalley. Everything is covered in water, and the ground bends beneath our<br \/>\n steps. Somehow I&#8217;m cold, despite the sun.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cDo we leave, or do we stay?\u201d the farmer asks. \u201cI&#8217;ll trust whatever you say.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I stiffen, remembering what I said&#8211;it&#8217;s been twelve years now since that flood.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cLeave or stay?\u201d he asks again.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I force my mouth open. \u201cThis is our valley. We stay, Trithin.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The fields and muddy water splash out of existence, and I am before the<br \/>\nUnfoundary once again. Snow piles on my shoulders and over my ears. The<br \/>\nslope is slackening, leveling to the flat peak of Thumb Hill. I&#8217;ve come a<br \/>\n long way.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWill you sell me your field?\u201d a young, wealthy farmer is asking me. He<br \/>\ncame here from the east, and brought new seeds, new fruits, new<br \/>\ntechniques to break ground for planting. He wants the land for himself,<br \/>\nthe entire valley if he can get it. I see it in his eyes, twenty years<br \/>\nago.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI can&#8217;t sell you anything,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cNonsense. You&#8217;ve got the best piece of land this side of the mountains.<br \/>\n How much do you want for it? I can see to it you never go hungry again,<br \/>\n old man.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI&#8217;m not so old,\u201d my twenty-year-ago self says. \u201cAnd I won&#8217;t sell my father&#8217;s land.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He sneers. \u201cCould be I was wrong. I heard a rumor that you gave the land to that fool swineherd Dold. Is that true?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhat of it, if it is? I can do what I like with my own property.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou&#8217;re as much a fool as he is. He&#8217;ll turn your fields into a mud hole.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cBut his family won&#8217;t starve,\u201d I say. \u201cYou&#8217;d let half the valley go<br \/>\nhungry so you can trade more bloody coppers with the other villages.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cThose &#8216;bloody coppers&#8217; are what keeps your village safe!\u201d he growls.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I&#8217;m still strong, and I&#8217;m tired of an outsider telling us how to handle<br \/>\nwhat time has given to us. I swing my fist into his gut, then grab him<br \/>\nby the shoulder and hurl him into the brambles beside the road. He&#8217;s<br \/>\nstrong, but he hasn&#8217;t worked like we have in the village. The only harm<br \/>\nhe can do me is a long-range jab of his pointed nose.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Again I find myself standing in the snow, yet closer to the great shadow<br \/>\n of the Unfoundary. The cold is turning my face numb, trying to ice my<br \/>\nthroat shut. I find myself laughing, though, as I recall what I was<br \/>\ntwenty years ago.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I walk toward the looming gateway. The Unfoundary is bigger&#8211;four or<br \/>\nfive times over&#8211;than I ever thought from the low ground of the village.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The white and black of snow and tall shadow disappear again, and I&#8217;m in<br \/>\nthe shadow of a blue mountain instead. I&#8217;m near the Ghirin border, fifty<br \/>\n years old, armed with a bronze-head lance and a thin cowhide for armor.<br \/>\n I&#8217;m the oldest of thirty or so soldiers. We&#8217;re preparing to storm a<br \/>\nlookout tower just beyond the mountain. I was terrified, green with<br \/>\nsickness when it happened. Now I&#8217;m calm because I know we&#8217;ll win. I&#8217;d<br \/>\ncharged ahead when the first few men faltered. I took the tower gate and<br \/>\n held the doorway open with my lance, until the other men maneuvered up<br \/>\nand overwhelmed the Ghirin defenders. I killed that day, not for the<br \/>\nfirst time, but for the last time. Even now it makes me flinch.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Into the Unfoundary, beneath countless tons of tan stone. I see my<br \/>\nfather weeping, as mother goes back to the ground. She was sick so much<br \/>\nof her life. Why was he surprised? I always knew she would die first.<br \/>\nSomehow I never cared as much as father did. I couldn&#8217;t understand his<br \/>\ngrief, his weakness around death. He stopped working the fields, stopped<br \/>\n hunting, stopped trading, even stopped walking. For months he just sat<br \/>\nthere and ate what I offered him. It took me those long months to<br \/>\nforgive his grief when mother died. Then he died too, and I finally<br \/>\nunderstood him.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The Unfoundary draws me into shadow. It&#8217;s windless and smells like<br \/>\nburning pine. It reminds me of the years on the road before father died,<br \/>\n before mother died. I traded in Trinlos and all along the great eastern<br \/>\n ocean front. I guarded convoys between Ghirin and the southlands. I<br \/>\nonce tried my hand at exploring the great wastes beyond White River. The<br \/>\n others who joined me lasted better than I did, but none of us had been<br \/>\nout more than a month before we decided to turn back to the world we<br \/>\nalready knew.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cWhy did you travel so long?\u201d asks a soft voice.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>It&#8217;s Marna standing beside me. She&#8217;s tall, ebony hair twisted in a braid<br \/>\n over one shoulder, eyes bright even in the gloom. She&#8217;s more beautiful<br \/>\nthan I remembered&#8211;young, too young to be dead.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I shudder and stop walking. I try to speak, but my words halt in my mouth. I can&#8217;t answer her question with words.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>She puts a hand on my shoulder. \u201cYou&#8217;ve been so many places now. Why not stay in the valley for a while?\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I pull away out of reflex. \u201cI-I have to help old Trithin. He needs someone to cross the border for him.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI thought he only traded nearby.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cAh. W-well he&#8217;d like to trade more across the border.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>She gives me a strange look&#8211;as if she can see through me. \u201cWhat is it<br \/>\nyou&#8217;re running from? You haven&#8217;t spent more than a week here in five<br \/>\nyears.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI don&#8217;t like it here, Marna.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYes you do.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>She walks away, and I&#8217;m in the gateway of the Unfoundary once again. My<br \/>\nbody feels stiff, not with cold, and my knees rattle from something<br \/>\nother than shivers. My eyes sting, and I imagine Marna yet in the blurry<br \/>\n shadows. I thought I had banished her from my memory. I promised myself<br \/>\n I would.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>To banish her again I search my mind. Whom else will I find here? I<br \/>\nwonder what or whom I&#8217;ve forgotten, what this place is trying to show<br \/>\nme, or make me think.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Polt comes next, and my fists clench.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>He laughs eagerly. \u201cBack from the wastes already? Your parents talk about you everyday! They&#8217;re very proud.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I bury my anger. \u201cI try to live up to what they expect from me.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Polt&#8217;s easy smile comes out. \u201cI think you try too hard, some days. When<br \/>\ndid you last do something for yourself? You should buy some land, build a<br \/>\n house, or a stronghold even. You&#8217;ve been enough places to build your<br \/>\nown city!\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI don&#8217;t want a city,\u201d I reply.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou don&#8217;t want anything, that&#8217;s your problem,\u201d says my friend. \u201cYou<br \/>\nshould settle down, find yourself a good wife, let the outsiders deal<br \/>\nwith their own problems.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI can&#8217;t leave my friends on their own, they&#8217;re heading north next&#8211;\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cExcuses,\u201d Polt laughs. \u201cMarna always says you&#8217;re full of excuses.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>The ease with which he says her name hurts me. The closeness with which<br \/>\nhe can say it. I had that closeness before he realized she existed.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI tell you,\u201d he goes on, blind to my unease. \u201cI used to think of how<br \/>\ngood it would be to go with you, but now I can&#8217;t imagine leaving the<br \/>\nvalley. I think I&#8217;m too much of a coward! And I can&#8217;t think I&#8217;d ever be<br \/>\nhappy away from her, you know. She&#8217;s too much a part of me.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My anger courses up through my chest. How I&#8217;d like to yell what I feel,<br \/>\ntell him never to mention her again. How I&#8217;d rather that I simply didn&#8217;t<br \/>\n know them at all.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Instead I say, \u201cPolt, I think you made the best choice. She&#8217;s a catch.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>Perhaps he senses the longing in my voice. \u201cDon&#8217;t think there&#8217;s no one<br \/>\nfor you, either. If you stayed still for more than one day I could find<br \/>\nyou a nice wife too.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI don&#8217;t want a wife, Polt.\u201d I only want Marna, and I can&#8217;t let myself.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cSomeday you will, mark my words. There&#8217;s more to life than cities and oceans and money.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>So I walked away. I stayed far away from the valley, as often as I<br \/>\ncould. When I did visit, I only saw my parents and my mother&#8217;s sister.<br \/>\nPolt had been my best friend since we were born, but I risk making an<br \/>\nenemy of him every time I see him, every time I see him with her.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cYou&#8217;re a good friend,\u201d says Polt. \u201cI&#8217;ll miss you, till you return.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I am a good friend. So I won&#8217;t return.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>It was almost five years before I came back after that. Even then I only<br \/>\n came for a few days, and it wasn&#8217;t because I wanted to. It was because I<br \/>\n met a trader who&#8217;d passed through after scourge hit the valley, after<br \/>\nnearly half our people died of sickness they didn&#8217;t know how to cure. I<br \/>\nknew how to fight the scourge&#8211;I&#8217;d learned while I was in the east. But I<br \/>\n came back late, and Marna was already dead.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>One more reality unfolds around me, blocking the snow and night sky and<br \/>\nUnfoundary from me. This time it isn&#8217;t fifty, sixty years ago. It&#8217;s<br \/>\ntoday&#8211;myself, standing in front of my old, battered, snow-capped body.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>I say, \u201cTo die, you have to leave your life behind.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>My mind flies again through the years&#8211;advising Trithin; traveling north<br \/>\n and east and south; mourning when my father died; saying goodbye first<br \/>\nto mother; watching Polt and Marna dance on midsummer; watching myself<br \/>\nas a scrawny boy, barely strong enough to stand up in the wind; staring<br \/>\nup at the Unfoundary on Thumb Hill.<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>\u201cI&#8217;ve come a long way&#8211;lots to leave behind.\u201d<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<p>And perhaps that&#8217;s why, as I put the Unfoundary behind me and walk back the way I came, I find that it&#8217;s no longer cold.<\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><mbp:pagebreak><\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font size=\"5\"><\/font><\/p>\n<p><center><font size=\"5\">Published by Light Spring LLC <\/font><\/center><\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font size=\"5\"><\/font><\/p>\n<p><center><font size=\"5\">Fort Worth, Texas<\/font><\/center><\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font size=\"5\"><\/font><\/p>\n<p><center><font size=\"5\">\u00a9 Copyright 2017, All Rights Reserved<\/font><\/center><\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n\n<\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\" align=\"CENTER\">\n<font color=\"#000080\"><span lang=\"zxx\"><u><\/u><\/span><\/font><\/p>\n<p><center><font color=\"#000080\"><u><a href=\"http:\/\/www.thecoloredlens.com\/\"><font size=\"5\">www.TheColoredLens.com<\/font><\/a><\/u><\/font><\/center><\/p>\n<p class=\"western\" style=\"margin-bottom: 0in\" lang=\"zxx\">\n<\/p>\n<hr>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The Colored Lens Speculative Fiction Magazine Autumn 2017 \u2013 Issue #25 Featuring works by Zachary Tringali, Derrick Boden, Andy Tu, George Lockett, Carl Barker, Micha\u00ebl Wertenberg, Vaya Pseftaki, Nicholas Schmiedicker, and Stephen Taylor. Cover art by Kristina Gehrmann Edited by Dawn Lloyd and Daniel Scott Henry Fields, Associate Editor Published by Light Spring LLC Fort &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-136291","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/136291","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=136291"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/136291\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":136292,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/136291\/revisions\/136292"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=136291"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}