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Eddy

Eddy made a lot of money this year and he’s going to make more. He can see a structure to things, now: people, institutions, certain days. All he has to do is walk up and hold out his hands.

The tailbrain’s paid for itself a dozen times over, and it wasn’t cheap. Eddy buys clean yellow Peruvian, keeps a string of boys, eats real horse steak. He can even afford the icy wash that wrings his muscles clean every morning.

Eddy doesn’t know how to ask his tailbrain what his body does at night, but even if he did, he wouldn’t.

Quantum Fox Gets The Pox, A Novella

aid so,” murmurs the doctor. “Almost wiped it out back in the twentieth, but the resistant strains are making a comeback. We can try the standard treatment, or…” She flips through a chart. “You might get into this experimental trial…”

“Really?” Sardonic hope flares in the eyes of the man in the paper gown. On others, that gown would look flimsy and degrading–yet on him, it becomes a subtle statement, an inverse cape. Only he knows the syphilis test results were faked. Only he knows his reasons for angling into the drug trial. He is, after all, QUANTUM FOX, AGEN

T-Rex

“Constraints can spur creativity,” says T-Rex.

CONSTRAINED WRITING COMICS!

“But they also make you lazy!” he adds.

“How would you know?” asks Dromiceiomimus. “Your writing never stops being constrained.”

“Sexy!” says T-Rex. “But recently I spent some time writing under multiple constraints. Afterwards I found it harder to come up with ideas!”

“No more Wikipedia, eh?” says Utahraptor.

“Right,” agrees T-Rex. “No more ‘what’s the state lizard’ or ‘were crazy people born here?'”

“Like only stomping on people, not houses,” says Utahraptor.

“I’m not stomping anybody!” says T-Rex. “I’m really a panda with an oddly chosen name!”

Jewel

LET’S PLEASURE THE ECHO OF STROLLERS and in Kyoto, Jewel rides easy on the cultural shockwave. She’s still unsure whether it’s offensive to call it “Engrish,” but there’s so much of it, on buildings, plaques, t-shirts and windows–

“Kino,” she says, playing with the runes in her pocket.

“Mmm,” he says.

“What do you do with a wasted language?”

“Recycle it.”

“Right.” She pulls the runes out: Ansuz, Raidho, Thurisaz. “Use it to hold the words that aren’t meant for conversation.”

“Curse words?” He tilts his head. “Magic words?”

Jewel looks around again, seeing abjuration, invocation, bindings and secret names.

Dogcatcher

The crank key looks like the ones on old tin windup toys, except this one detaches when you’re done. Crane pops it out, and sets the ambulance chaser next to the dark red puddle (not on top; don’t want to gum up the jonnenry). It peels out with a whine, leaving a hot magnet stripe.

“You’re sure it’ll find him?” asks Dogcatcher. Crane’s silent. She tests a spearpoint. “I don’t like these gadgets. Still weather and an arm to twist… I mean, what are you charging for, if it does all the work?”

“We don’t win,” grunts Crane, “you don’t pay.”

Rainn

“Your grandmother is in this blade,” says Rainn’s father. “Its bones are her bones. You will never sharpen it, and while your heart beats it will not break.” He finishes running his little lathe over the tang and nods.

Rainn caps the mold and they take the handles to walk side by side. The kiln’s not lit, but he can already feel the draw from the chimney: tugging his hair, begging at him, promising fire.

“It’s hungry,” says Rainn.

“Good,” says his father. “That’s the first thing it should know.”

They leave the china in the oven and shut the door.

Beverly

Beverly puts her head in the oven, then her forearms. She twists–they say you can fit anywhere your shoulders fit, or maybe your hips? She gets both.

The back of the oven pushes out to plaster dust and plywood. It’s dark, but she doesn’t dare flick her lighter. Her cell phone’s cold light shows her tunnels and tubes, a round red door, the silver walls of ducts. She keeps crawling.

Tips of carrots in the ceiling: she stops and pulls. Cool dirt showers her, but she holds her breath and digs. It’s not far, and it smells good up there.

Amber

“You’re a mud pie.” Amber tops his head with grass.

“I’m the king of the forest,” Doug says gravely. “Except grass gives you chiggers. Brain chiggers, and I die.”

“The king can cure chiggers,” she says.

“Isn’t that scrofula?”

Amber’s suddenly tired. “Okay. I guess you’re dead then, sorry.”

“Is this just the pattern with us?” Doug asks. “Leap and leap and it’s all very lovely, until one of us asks where we’re going to land?”

She rolls away, then rolls back. “Maybe we keep jumping.”

“Might land in a mud pie.”

“I always,” says Amber, “ate the damn things anyway.”

Leto

“When did you stop playing to win?” asks Iblis, pouring glass beads into the pattern that spells Hunger.

“I never started.” Leto’s amused, and moves her tokens one by one into the simple line called Love. “How do you keep score?”

Iblis steals Leto’s lead token to make the Sword. “Subjectively. The most aesthetically pleasing progression.”

“We’re unfit to judge that.” Slide and clack: Leto builds Ovens.

“Better bad judges than no judges.” Dirt, then Iblis pays for a reset to Hunger. “What’s a game without victory?”

Leto just sweeps the board clean with one arm.

Which is called Love Again.

Raj

Raj walks by the alley. There’s mist and blue light in there, and it goes like: OOOMMM

Raj actually has to take an alley as a shortcut. It’s not the same alley, but the first alley somehow opens off in the middle of this one. It sounds like those monks on the Chant CD look. Raj wonders what ever happened to Chant.

After dinner, when Raj closes the refrigerator door, the alley is squeezed between its white bulk and the wall. OOOMMM

“Look, I’m not going to feed you,” says Raj.

OOOMMM

“Whatever,” says Raj.

Later it hides under his bed.

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