Spacer April 23, 2005
  | Asymmetry | Archive | April 23, 2005 |




Falling down on that job again.

I don't care how long it takes, I will finish this game stuff. One little piece at a time.

Look for the rambling to become highly erratic in these next few weeks; I'm going to have overlapping contracts and a lot of travel time.

* * *

    Meanwhile, I gave the commissioner a tour of the less sensitive parts of our base, leaving aside the holding cells, fusion reactor, Sphinxnet... that sort of thing. Threw in a few stories about the old days, to which he responded rather well.
    "I always wondered... the pictures of you don't... look anything like the television broadcasts..." He caught my severe look and changed the question mid-ask. "Was there a costume change, or--this one looks much more functional. Is that arachne fiber?"
    "I believe so. And over here we have..." I took him toward the trophy hall, probably at least as curious as our guest to see what we had in there. Sphinx II's chariot and weapons, ice guns, devolvo ray devices, a photo that looked a lot like Reilly dressed up like an extra from Planet of the Apes. Photos of the Toy Man in defeat. Replicas of Atlantean technology. A Blood Board vehicle, a hyperalloy decoy duck, a glass case full of baseballs, Postal Employee Man's original costume, a whole section for the Worcester Rooster and his family--apparently there are going to have been some epic battles between him and someone called the Bantam, who wore the same costume. Then in the 90s a Lady Fowl appeared.... A diorama labeled "Ice toads in their native environment." The skeleton of something that disturbed me greatly--not sure why, something I can't quite remember--with way too many arms and a long, snakelike tail. The silk robes of five of the Wuxia members--Yen Shu Hai's was missing. He's probably still around a hundred years later, at that.
    We finished up, leaving him both pleased and impressed, and I escorted him back to where the others were getting ready to go; our two groups exchanged courteous good-byes, and once they were gone, looked at one another: Now what?
    Meanwhile, down in the holding cell, Melvin was beginning to drift toward consciousness.

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Except where otherwise noted, all material on this site is © 2005 Rebecca J. Stevenson