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Monthly Archives: February 2005

The Cold Man

“You are human,” says the flat voice. “You’ll give in eventually.”

“But it costs you, doesn’t it?” He gags and spits black, then grins; his teeth are full of blood. “Every minute I hold out costs you.” He doesn’t stutter. Not yet.

Silence, then: “Your price?”

“There’s people that need killing.”

“Name them.”

“No. I’ll do it. I want six bullets, and my life back for long enough to spend them.”

Six things tink on the concrete. One of them is a key.

“I said six.”

“I have no illusions,” says the voice, dry now, “about the target of the last.”

Cora

“Fifty thousand Hugo Weavings can’t be wrong!” booms the narrator.

“Go camera three,” Andy mutters.

“The optimal brand of peanut butter–” say 50,000 Hugo Weavings, grinning, in chorus.

“–is JIF!” say 49,999 of them.

“–is Peter Pan!” says one. He goes white. “Oh,” he says, turning in circles. “No, please, gentlemen–I–I couldn’t help it! Quantum physics made me! No. NO!”

Andy sighs as they converge. “Cut,” he calls above the screaming. “Cora, go get another one?”

Cora rolls her eyes. She hates thawing the Hugo Weavings, and doesn’t understand why they have to be stored nude.

Lucy

They make love in the morning, for a change, ten o’clock sunlight fluid on Lucy’s back as she arches and rolls. He makes her pancakes shaped like Mickey Mouse, afterward, and she tears the top sheet from his page-a-day calendar: June 87th.

“I’m afraid,” he tells her in the shower.

“Why, baby?”

“Nothing lasts forever. Even this, and when it finally ends…”

“Just live for today.” Lucy smiles, and kisses his chest. “It’ll last as long as it needs to.”

“Yeah.” He pulls her close. “Yeah.”

Meanwhile in Australia, Cliff shivers, and chatters out cuss words, and kicks his frozen horse.

Cote

“Pataphysics,” repeats Ballard.

“Pataphysiques,” Cote corrects him. “It’s French. Science asks ‘why does the rock fall down?’ Pataphysiques is the opposite.”

“It asks why the rock doesn’t fall down?”

“Why it falls up.

“It… doesn’t,” says Ballard slowly.

“Don’t avoid the question!” Cote’s grinning now. “Think of it as a deliberately wrong premise for a syllogism. Logic tells us that when your premise is false, you can’t disprove the conclusion, no matter what it is. Why does the rock fall up? Therefore, time isn’t real.”

“But that kind of proof is worthless!”

“Oh, sure,” sniffs Cote, “if you listen to logic.

Tyler

Tyler drops the last of his ninja on the pile and wanders over to where the guys sit, on a ledge.

“Ooh,” says Daniel, as Dylan does something complicated that causes two ninja to kick themselves in the face.

“Yeah, she showed me that yesterday,” says Phillip.

They grow quiet again. Dylan blurs up past the limit of visual tracking, and her own pile grows steadily larger. Daniel passes Tyler a bag of popcorn.

“Nice. Who brought this?” He takes a handful.< "I was thinking, is there ever a reason not to have popcorn?" says Toe. "And I was like, nah."

Keisha

“Hey there, cutie.” Devin grins and starts to slip into the empty bus seat, but Keisha puts out a hand to stop him.

“Sorry,” Keisha says. “This one’s saved… for Jesus.”

Devin rolls his eyes and moves back. A few minutes later, at the next stop, Jesus gets on. He hands the driver a transfer slip.

Keisha waves to him. “Hey, Jesus! Sit here, Jesus!”

Jesus sits, looking confused. “Shapirrta ekhtuvehn msi-chra?” he mumbles.

“Man, you know I don’t speak that crazy ukh-huk language!” Keisha laughs.

Jesus furrows his brow and looks around. He smells like sweat, fish and coarse wool.

Rita

“You’re sure there’s nothing else?” asks Rita.

“We checked the rest of the tape through everything we’ve got,” sighs Mary, rubbing her eyes. “Virgin white noise. No encryption, no watermark. Whoever left this wanted us to see only this fifteen seconds of… nothing.”

“Not nothing,” says Tina. “The inside of a security center where every instrument shows nothing.”

Rita watches as they rewind and play it again, until it cuts to static.

“Guys?” she says slowly. “What kind of person doesn’t show up on any instrument?”

“A dead one,” says Sandra.

“Right,” says Rita. “So who do we know that’s dead?”

Dave

“Napoleon couldn’t pee outdoors!” Li gasps, and collapses into giggles. Connor grabs the bottle and swallows, sloppy. They’re fifteen and not exactly drunk.

Connor shudders and blurts out “Bill Gates does ecstasy on weekends!”

Teena gets it next, as Li collapses again. “The Army tried to invent a chemical weapon to make enemy soldiers gay!”

It’s Dave’s turn, but he refuses. “That shit’s dangerous,” he mutters.

Jamie takes it instead. “Connor’s dad masturbates to Li’s yearbook picture!”

She tries to cover her mouth, too late. Connor looks ill. Li gags.

“Told you,” says Dave sourly, snatching the truth and corking it.

Ruth

“Okay, you say it first,” says Ruth.

“Catholic,” says Rhi. It sounds like a word; it reminds Ruth vaguely of incense.

“Now you,” she says.

“Catholic,” says Topaz, and in her mouth it’s filthy: a shirt untucked and a sullen pout, short plaid skirts, guilt and rulers; cigarettes in a grubby green bathroom–her first tampon, secrets, the hungry eyes of bullies. It sounds like too late on a Friday night, passing around filched peppermint schnapps, bad lighting and whispering the Hail Mary while somebody feels you up.

“See?” says Ruth.

“No!” says Rhi.

“Is my favorite flavor,” Topaz adds, grinning.

Rae

“If it’s true love,” insists Evany. “It’ll happen. You know? If it’s meant to be.”

Two tables over, Inez scoffs quietly. “God. Please.”

“She’s entitled to an opinion,” Bonn murmurs.

“That’s not an opinion,” says Inez. “That’s a dull empty cow-thought. That is a thought that a cow would think.

“Look at me!” Ori says, mocking her from just out of earshot. “Ooh, I’m bitter! I’m jaded! Ooh!” She flips imaginary hair, and Ferdinand grins agreement.

And Rae, in the farthest corner, smiles and traces Ferdinand’s fingers with her eyes; and draws them on her napkin; and says nothing at all.

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