The Holocene Conference on Alternative Geological Viewpoints is, like any gathering of heretics, contentious.
The Eparchaean Unconformists start a full-scale brawl with the Cascadia Subductics; folding chairs are weaponized. Two Geosynclines from Adelaide try to demonstrate banded oxidation by setting the auditorium on fire. A Young Earther sneaks in with a stolen badge and has to be rescued from drowning in the toilet. And everyone, everyone has something you have to hear about oil.
“How long until the next one?” asks Nevit, exhausted, when the last afterparty has been shut down.
“Only ten million years,” says Finke, already making lists.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
“We’ve been looking for you.”
Jamal spins around, frantically trying to click browser tabs closed with one hand. “I’m technically on my lunch break–”
“You know perfectly well that doesn’t matter,” says the lady in the suit.
“We’ve been on your trail for years,” grins the man in the other suit. “Ever since you started playing Nintendo on a sick day in ’97. Then the Small Soda To Go incident, and all those CDs you ripped before you sold them…”
“Who are you?” says Jamal, heart wide, eyes pounding.
“Rules Police,” smirks the lady. “And it’s finally Time Out for you.”
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
“Have you been down to the crypt yet?” mutters Craig.
“Shh.”
“Amen,” the congregation intones.
“I mean it,” Craig persists. “It’s something you need to see for yourself. The old inscriptions show men who clothed their torsos, who wore caps with the bill forward–”
“How can you even speak of such things?” Wentzle hisses. “We’re in the house of Dog!”
“We haven’t always ruled Santa Monica,” says Craig, jaw stiff.
Around them, Z-Boys drop their decks with a clatter, then stoop to kneel. Up on the altar, the Hawk crosses his arms: the sign of the Double Pits to Chesty.
István leaves to go to the bathroom and Hidebound kills Pál with a knife. It’s that quick, so Zach is still staring at the blood and wondering if this is a prank when two scarred fingers drag him by the nostrils out of the safehouse.
“Ow fuck!” says Zach. Upon consideration, he adds: “Shit!”
“Whatever puppydog pity she took on you, be grateful for it,” says Hidebound, “because it’s the only thing keeping my fist out of your brains right now. How does it feel to be a hostage, Zach?”
Like so many things in Budapest, Zach reflects glumly, it hurts.
Silhouine and Dulap and their fellows cheer on the fire, while around them burghers cower behind blackout curtains. It’s some time before they hear the distant boom of the dogfight.
A platoon of harriers from the garrison have hounded out the Iron Heart, and the result is firework: traces of gold that hint at unseen aerobatics. The harriers started it, but they aren’t winning.
They’re overhead for a moment, and most of the prentices cheer even louder. Silhouine’s frozen. Sparks earth themselves around her, and a pattering rain of debris follows; looking down to follow it, she sees a human tooth.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
[1] You’ve discovered an ancient book. Read it: 4. Look at the pictures: 8. [2] –crawl on, page over page, convinced that all things die; 3— [3] Time contorts, a slippery lemniscate plunging inward to a nonexistent end. Are you travelling? 5. Travelled? 7. [4] Magic spells! Cast “Perfect Foresight:” 9. “Universe of Discourse:” 7. [5] To start over, go to 1. To continue, 2. [6] How did you get here? Goto 8. [7] The book has you in a semantic trap. Struggling, you 2. [8] You are struck dead. Goto 3. [9] Incredible! You see your life unfold at 5.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Whereas PURCHASER has defaulted on the agreement by one or more of the following means:
- Failure to remit installment for 60 days
- Breach of provisions 3:1-3:16 of original contract
- Bodily assumption into Heaven
TITLE HOLDER will therefore commence to legally sieze property and convert it, by means of standard miracle (see contract article 7), into an asset matching original assessment of profitability, 30 DAYS from posting of notice. PURCHASER has the right to employ a third-party (triune) ARBITRATOR to render final judgment on contract breach, should one return in splendor.
TITLE HOLDER will not be holding TITLE HOLDER’S breath.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Cathay’s tried sleeping in the sweaty heat of an orgy aftermath; she traded a favor to spend the night blanketed in a drawer at the morgue. She slept an hour once in a vertical wind tunnel, effectively weightless, the muted roar in her ears like the rushing of blood in the womb.
Like any addict, Cathay maintains that she’s not hurting anyone; yet every addiction has its price. One needs more or better to reach that original high, and soon her pillow is useless to her. Cathay lies awake dreaming of surgery, of submarines, of the bed where Doc Holliday died.
Monday, September 28, 2009