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Tanner

Squirting water into your inner ear to see if it makes you vomit is a good test for whether you’re really in a coma, Tanner learns, to his bewilderment, still hiccuping with his arms resting on the bucket lip.

“But I fail to understand,” he gets out between spasms, “why such a test was even necessary.”

Some people prefer their friends to be safe, not sorry,” says Kira. “And there was the power-of-attorney issue.”

“The,” Tanner says, “what.”

“So I could legally divest of your house and stuff. Tax reasons!”

He stares up at her.

“April Fools?” she says.

Epidiah

“This list is ridiculous,” says Epidiah. “Holy water is for vampires, we’re not setting money on fire, and ‘proton packs’ are not real.”

“Still locked at the corner,” says Lemmy, peering out the mail slot. “Look, it wears the chain it forged in life!”

“It’s a ghost bike, Lemmy,” says Epidiah with weariness beyond death. “Somebody spray-painted it white because a friend of theirs–”

“Reached out from beyond the grave, I know,” Lemmy frowns. “Like vodoun or pharaonic burial goods. Did you bless the holy water yet?”

Epidiah’s sainthood derives from the Universal Life Church, but unfortunately that’s good enough.

Roget

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.
–Philo

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.
–Plato

Be kind, for everyone you meet is haaang on a minute.
–Ralph Waldo Emerson

I’m pretty sure I said that.
–Mark Twain

You don’t get to say fucking everything, Clemens.
–Ralph Waldo Emerson

Yeah, the reports of you saying stuff are greatly exaggerated.
–Yogi Berra

Get it?
–Yogi Berra

That’s not even the real quote.
–Mark Twain

You guys are a fistful of assholes.
–Ian Maclaren

Actually some people you meet have it pretty easy.
–Thomas Jefferson

Elephant and Castle

Castle wears the stethoscope. Elephant carries the gun.

“Our remaining time,” says Elephant with a puff of frustrated breath, “can no longer be measured in minutes.”

“Are you talking?” hisses Castle. “What is the one thing you think I need to do right now?” Head cocked, pressing her earpiece, she twists a heavy dial tick by tick to the left.

Elephant grinds those great teeth, waiting, crouched by the door with her hand-cannon cocked. Castle hears the last tumbler whisper into place.

Their sleeping subject murmurs, hand fumbling for something heavy on his chest; but the heartbreakers are already gone.

Science Officer Riker

“And why didn’t you notice the ship was leaking antimatter for four hours?”

“Look, I had a hot holodate,” shrugs Science Officer Riker. “Things got out of hand. And also into hand. Because I got a holohandy.”

“Will, maybe if we tried reversing the polarity to–” says Engineering Chief Crusher.

“I tried reversing her polarity last night, if you know what I mean!” says Science Officer Riker. “What I mean is that we did it from behind.”

Around the table, the other officers stare at him hard enough to press latinum.

“I’m detecting tension somewhere in this vicinity,” frowns Captain Troi.

Jelenko

Jelenko sends her a dozen white roses. Hortense sends him a dozen black widows. Subtlety is one quality they lack in common.

Jelenko leaves a string of pearls on her doorknob; Hortense leaves his motor oil in a pool beneath his car. He delivers an assortment of white chocolates topped with silverflake. She bribes a barista to swap his coffee for ink. To switch things up, Jelenko gets her Loubotins in jet leather. She puts powdered bleach in his shower head.

In the hospital, he takes delivery of the roses, their petals charred one by one. He smiles; she watches. Monochromance.

Lisa

The island must have been some kind of fur farm, before the demic: Lisa’s found rusted-out pens and a crumbling house with tannery racks behind it. But mostly the foxes clued her in.

They’re all human-friendly and uninterested in her food; they seem to eat sweet fallen apples, when they’re not pillaging a busted kibble silo. At night they curl up around her overturned boat and twitch their feet in sleep.

She could give up searching for the prophet, maybe. Stay here, eat fruit, stroke foxfur and dream.

No, Lisa. Sail on.

They cry like children when she goes.

Keiko

Keiko took her first hit at 19 after an organic chem lab, tidying, when she fumbled a test tube of what she thought was nitro. She caught it and just stood there trembling. The high lasted for hours, even after she figured out it was only ethylene glycol.

Her real gateway, though, was black powder. She paid cash at the ammo shop and didn’t even have to show ID. It smelled like fireworks. Out behind the industrial arts shed, she threaded fuse into a capped length of galvanized pipe, and her heart in her chest was a boxer at the bag.

Stoop

“Write what you feel,” says the counselor, so Stoop sits down and writes a story about a pretty smart guy who had a hobby of toying with beautiful fractals and okay, maybe he switched to freelance to have more time to pursue it and then maybe he stopped doing freelance but it was temporary, but then he failed to budget for food and rent so the landlord had him dragged fighting from his filthy chair in front of the slowly turning recursive helix which is when his sister got him into this program with a counselor who says “write what you–“

Buster

Heat kicks Buster like a boot and he falls back, unable to reach the cherry-red engine door. The other engineer is dead or unconscious, and all Buster can see is tomorrow’s headline over pictures of wreck and ruin: Runaway Train.

Steel wheels scream as they take the turn along the canyon edge, and then Buster sees him. Impossible. An old wrangler, standing alone beside the tracks–

Chad leans back, lariat singing, and as his long and perfect cast settles over the smokestack he digs in his heels to stop the damn thing for good.

It does not work at all.