“The mundanes have always feared and despised our fellows,” explains Apricorn the kleptomancer. “Even those who had, by dint of literally weeks of labor, become wealthy and upstanding citizens–”
“By dint of kleptomancy, you mean,” says Guro.
“Which takes labor,” Apricorn insists. “The point being that we built–”
“By dint of–”
“–New Katachrol to be a like-minded place, a safe haven, a refuge. Unfortunately, certain building projects that have gone over budget, and–”
“You’re applying for the grant?” Guro blinks. “Can’t you just, er, obtain the prize?”
“Oh, I did,” says Apricorn, “but it appears to have gone missing somehow.”
“It doesn’t have to be personal correspondence,” says the Great Zaganza, Philatelogist, “you just want a general forecast, yes?”
“Yes,” says Azalea, who is going to war.
“Then junk mail will do,” says Zaganza. He sifts it out of her bag, then cuts out its corners: they scrape up the self-adhesives with razors and soak out the lick-and-sticks. Soon they’re poring over nine stamps, arranged by price, blurred by postmark.
“You’re going to get a lot more junk mail,” says Zaganza at last.
“That’s good!” says Azalea, swelling.
“But that doesn’t,” frowns Zaganza, “really change when you die.”
According to canon, Beloit’s fencing skills were removed via neurosurgery by the Uncouth Irrawaddy, but Beloit disagrees, and stabs canon in the arm.
“Not bad for a lobotomy victim,” he taunts. Canon swings one bladed pseudopod; Beloit dodges over the left balcony railing. Canon says that’s the side with the giant rotating fan blades. Beloit jams his rapier into the wall and drags himself to a dangling stop. “Okay,” he gasps, “but the Heliocrashers destroyed the generator here, want to explain that?”
Canon erupts six competing theories and staggers, oozing. Beloit draws his dagger and prepares to help pare them down.
“You have new stockings,” observes one of the Impis, referring to the fact that Chelmsford’s feet are bleeding from the top now (the grass here is kinky, its edges serrated). They’ve covered fifteen miles today or, by Chelmsford’s count, infinity. The Impis aren’t even breathing hard.
“I hghcan’t!” He stumbles, heaving, and nearly goes down when his bound hands can’t catch him. “Hagh! Piss on me, leave me for dead, I won’t get up!”
Another Impi crouches. “Ready to go home, Red Shoes?”
Chelmsford glares sideways. “I asked for training,” he says, “don’t you want a few chances to beat me?”
Ten days until the blitz. Khada tries to herd children toward the bathroom while the older students, Voort among them, lug boxes of textbooks to the truck. They’re moving through patches of shade on the way now; the shadows are starting to condense.
“That’s the last of the first-grade stuff,” says Voort to the Red Crescent rep, a little proud that he’s the leader today.
“Great, you’re ahead of schedule,” she smiles, flipping pages on her clipboard. “But so are they.”
Voort follows her gaze up to the slowbombs, almost still now, accelerating at 98 centimeters per day per day.
20. Get doc proofs to Brandenburg
19. Get C, C & K to release proofs
18. Get C made partner
17. Hide evidence of C w/ Al
16. Destroy “Mr. Al”
15. Tell C know about “Mr. Al”
14. Hide camera in closet
13. Invite Costell to M6
12. Get Mr. Alpaca to Motel 6
11. Get alpaca in trailer
10. Rent trailer
9. Attach trailer hitch
8. Raid petting zoo
7. Purchase pantyhose for head
6. This doesn’t sound like me
5. Wait
4. Figure out when to-do went recursive, sentient
3. Make it stop doing
2. Dammit
1. help
Struts and beams, seismographs and counterweights, a crowbar six miles long: at last, Steadman and Chandrababu stand atop the gantry and shake hands, and it’s done. They’ve stopped the Cascadia megathrust subduction event.
“Well I can tell you that personally, it’s been a rough journey,” confesses Steadman to the lady late night host. “The men and women at CasLab are my closest friends now–we’re all the support network any of us has got.”
“What about your family?” asks the lady.
“They live on the moon,” says Steadman.
It’s evident for the first time that in total silence, the cameras hum.