Maya turned up the next day. When the doorbell rang, Jennifer studied the tiny vidscreen in the kitchen, but she couldn’t see anything except the empty landing and a couple walking hand-in-hand on the street below.
“Who is it?” asked Marcellus, looking up from the stove. Shirtless and wearing sandals, a thin, silver chain hung around his neck. He was holding a red pepper with a fork over a blue flame.
Jennifer, licking her fingers, shrugged. “No one's there.” Her hair sprouted from the top of her head like a small houseplant, held in place by a series of thick, fluffy, yellow, elastic bands. The color matched her fingernails.
“Just some kids.” Marcellus shrugged and returned to the roasting pepper, its crackled, blackening skin already peeling in patches. Icarus had gone to three supermarkets earlier that morning before he found any fresh peppers, and even the three best ones he could fish out of the bin were rotting through in spots. The attendants laughed at him when he asked for olive oil.
A few moments later, the doorbell rang again. This time, Marcellus switched off the flame and set the fork down.
“Should I – ?” Jennifer began, reaching for the control panel next to the vidscreen.
“Don’t bother,” Marcellus told her. He was already trotting off down the poorly lit corridor that led from the kitchen to the front door.
Jango was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in a leather cowboy hat and – something Marcellus had never seen before – a big, shiny belt buckle. There was a faint odor about him – that earthy, human smell – as if he hadn’t showered since the day before yesterday.
“Visitors?” Jango asked, slapping his gut.
“Nobody on the vid.”
“Why don’t you let me open the door, Mark?”
“What difference does it –”
“We wouldn't want anything nasty to happen to you, would we?” Jango winked at him.
Marcellus made a wry face and sat down on a little metal bench just inside the doorway. “Okay. Let’s see who it is.”
“It’s Icarus!” hollered Jennifer from the kitchen.
“Icarus?” Marcellus returned, scowling. “What’s he ringing the fucking bell for? He’s keyed up!”
“Yeah, well, it’s him alright. I can see his hair.”
“What’s the rest of him doing?” Jango called out.
“Beats me.”
Jango ripped the door open. He was about to say something menacing but the words never came.
Marcellus leaped up, grabbed the doorframe, and peered under Jango’s armpit.
Icarus was kneeling on the landing next to some withered plants and a beat-up looking woman with long, tattered hair and torn clothing. She was only wearing one shoe and it was broken. The other foot looked bruised and swollen.
Marcellus rolled his eyes. “Icarus, you can’t bring homeless people here just because you feel bad for them.”
“She’s not homeless,” Icarus remarked absently, looking down at the stirring figure. To Jango, he said, “I don’t think she can stand on her own.”
“She never got in contact,” Jango pointed out stubbornly and folded his arms. “I don't think we should let her in.”
Jennifer, who had crept up behind Jango, gave him a shove. “Who cares whether she called or not? Get down there and help out!”
Jango turned and made to grab her by a full fist of hair, but she anticipated him and ducked out of the way. “That’s right,” he growled darkly. “You better run.”
She managed to squeeze onto the landing and kneel down next to Icarus. A set of long, hard, brightly colored fingernails dug fiercely into his forearm. With a yelp, Icarus scrambled aside and Jennifer slipped deftly into his place.
“Who is it?” Marcellus demanded.
“See what happened, Ikkie?” Jennifer held up a hand. “You broke one of my nails.”
“You could have just asked me to move.”
Jennifer was stroking the woman’s hair. “Ikkie, you and Jango get her inside and put her on the couch. She'll be comfortable there.”
Icarus started to protest. “Who made you boss?” He turned to Marcellus. “Jango can just sling her over his shoulder. He's strong enough.”
“It’s alright, Maya,” Jennifer whispered, easing the woman's head into her lap. “I knew you'd make it back.”
Maya groaned. Looking up into Jennifer’s face, she mumbled, “They got the chip.” Her voice sounded thick and syrupy, as if her mouth were stuffed with cotton balls. A hand reached up weakly. “They took it!”
Jennifer shushed her.
“Icarus, stop whining and get her inside,” Marcellus snapped. “C'mon, Jango, get a move-on before people start gathering for a look!”
Together, Marcellus and Jango managed to lift Maya’s limp body and carry her into the living room. On the way, Jango smacked her head against a doorframe. In her dazed state, she hardly seemed to notice.
“Can she talk?” Marcellus asked as they eased Maya onto the couch.
Jennifer knelt down next to her. “You want some ice?”
Sluggishly, Maya pointed to her exposed foot. “Water.” She squeezed out the word between parched lips.
Jennifer darted out the room.
Icarus, lingering in the doorway, said, “When I came back from the market I found her crawling up the steps.”
“I wonder how many other people did, too,” Marcellus remarked dryly, “and just walked on by.”
Icarus guffawed and stuck his hands deep into the pockets of his black pants. “A lot of people get bagged that way, you know. I saw a cast about it. People pretend to be hurt, and when you stop and help them – gun in your face!”
“Were you able to find what was on the list?” Jango asked him.
“There was no fresh fruit, only cans in syrup. And I'm not going out again! I'm sick of walking all over town.”
“I haven't tasted fresh fruit since I've been back,” Marcellus remarked wistfully. “You managed to find real coffee this morning, though. Guess I shouldn't expect too much.” He grinned.
“The price of water went up again this afternoon.”
“That’s twice today,” Marcellus said, shaking his head. “What’s it selling for now?”
“Eleven credits a liter.”
“I thought they were bringing more down from the moon.”
“Did you hear there's a smog alert for this afternoon? I didn't realize they had them here in Casper.”
Jango smirked. “Who cares about those alerts anyway.”
Icarus' eyes widened. “You don't care about breathing in poison?”
Jango shrugged. “We're all going to die some day, Icarus. I'm not going to spend my whole life worrying about what from. If it's not smog, it's an airborne virus. If it's not an airborne virus, it's the synthetic milk. If it's not the milk – ”
“You laugh, Jango,” Marcellus interrupted, “but I had a cousin who died from food poisoning. Remember? In Baltimore? The government called all those deaths a coincidence. I don't know what additive E-8210 is and they never told us – you can't even find any mention of it on the link – but after all those people died they stopped using it.”
“What's your point?” Jango returned coolly, rocking on his heels.
Marcellus could hardly conceal a smile. “No point, Jango.”
“I'll seal the windows and turn on the air filter,” Icarus announced.
“You do that,” Jango replied impassively.
Jennifer reappeared. She was carrying a resealable bag filled with synthetic ice, a blanket, and a glass of water. “Can’t you guys do something other than just stand around?” she demanded, coming up beside Maya.
“That's a huge glass of water, Jen,” Icarus complained. “I didn't buy enough for five people.”
“I want to know how she knew we were here,” Jango wondered aloud darkly.
Jennifer shot both Marcellus and Jango a hard look. “Christ, guys, you see the condition she’s in. She’s not answering any of your stupid questions.”
“Jennifer – ” Marcellus began, but she cut him off.
“I don’t care, Markie. She looks like she hasn’t slept in days. She sleeps and she bathes. Then she talks.”
“She talks before she leaves this house,” Jango insisted, jabbing a finger at the couch.
Jennifer gave him a withering look.
“I mean it,” Jango told her, tucking a thumb behind the shiny belt buckle. “Even if she wants the hospital. She's got to talk first.”
Marcellus saw there was no use protesting. “Fine, Jen, but I’m not going to stand like an idiot with that pepper over the stove.” Muttering to himself, he wandered off.
“Pop something in the magnetron!” Jennifer shouted after him. “I'm hungry!”
Jango returned to the front door and bolted it shut. Icarus wandered off to fiddle with the air filter.
“Thanks,” Maya breathed gratefully.
“You look like shit,” Jennifer told her. “And that was such a nice blouse. Anyway, it’s ruined.” She smiled encouragingly. “Look, rest here a minute, and when you feel up to it we’ll distract Jango and get you over to the hospital.”
Maya shook her head. “No,” she breathed.
Jennifer smiled at her. “Listen, Maya, we have ID cards now. We’re legit.”
Maya looked at her strangely for a moment. Then she said, “No hospital.”
Jennifer, waving the glass of water over Maya’s face, exclaimed, “You sure are funny. Are you afraid?”
Maya’s eyes were fastened to the glass. “I just don’t like them. Hospitals.”
“Have it your way,” Jennifer said warmly and smiled again. She took a sip of water.
“Can I have that?” Maya croaked.
“O my God! Sure!” Jennifer thrust the glass into her shaking hands, the smile never cracking.
Chief Justice Xiling stood on a dais in the middle of the brightly lit antechamber while his tailor put the finishing touches on a crisp, new, purple suit. The shiny strands of thick, jet-black hair were neatly combed and parted. A dark layer of eyeliner had been applied to his eyelids. He looked very statesmanlike, he thought as he peered at himself in the mirror. Of course, he lacked the mustache or slight goatee which the fashion of the day demanded. Perhaps he ought to indulge the ordinaries, whose only impression of him was gleaned from the iridescent surfaces of their vidscreens. But the thought had occurred to him before, and it never developed into anything more. He didn’t like facial hair.
When his tailor had satisfied himself as to the Chief Justice’s attire, he slipped out of the room, measuring tape draped around his neck.
“What do you think, boy?” the Chief Justice asked.
A figure in the corner stirred. It was a young man, thin, almost skeletal, with a long, narrow face, nose like a hawk, a shaved head, and piercing, sunken eyes, as if he were being consumed by an inner fire. He was wearing a suit as well (this one was grey), although he didn’t seem very comfortable in it. His hands clutched a plain, leather briefcase. “It looks like all your other suits, master,” the Chief Acolyte responded matter-of-factly.
“Not at all,” breathed the Chief Justice, clipping on his golden cufflinks. “Not at all.” He stuck out a leg and turned to the side, eying himself critically in the mirror.
At that moment a shrill, buzzing noise flooded the room followed after a brief interval by a smooth, automated voice. “Does His Honor desire a dose of trianthahexamine before his speech?”
The Chief Justice scowled.
“His Honor does not cloud his mind with drugs of any kind,” the Chief Acolyte snapped in the direction of the ceiling.
“As you wish,” replied the overly pleasant voice. The buzzing noise sounded again.
“This speech is inopportune,” the Chief Acolyte remarked sourly and clicked his tongue.
The Chief Justice glanced at him through the mirror. “Patience, my boy.” Suddenly he turned and faced him. “Why is it I am always counseling you to patience?”
“Because,” The Chief Acolyte replied sheepishly, lowering his eyes, “I have much to learn.”
The Chief Justice stared a moment longer before returning his own image in the mirror. “You are a snake,” he said, but he was looking at himself. He tightened the tie around his neck.
The Chief Acolyte perked up at once. All traces of submission melted away. “I thought we’d discuss the woman’s return.”
“All in good time, acolyte. All in good time.”
“But isn’t time pressing?”
“Nope.” The Chief Justice started humming lightly.
“But don’t you think Epstein had her bugged?”
“Nope,” the Chief Justice said again and continued humming.
“And what do you base that assumption on?”
The Chief Justice brushed off the front of his jacket and stuffed a bright yellow handkerchief into one of the pockets. “There is no reason for him to do so. They picked up the woman. She didn’t have the chip. End of story.”
“End of story? Master, I don’t understand. Won’t he want to know what happened to it?”
The Chief Justice stopped humming. He turned and looked intently in the Chief Acolyte’s direction. “Isn’t it obvious, boy? He’ll know we have it!”
“And that will be the end of that?”
The Chief Justice shrugged. “I don’t see why it shouldn’t be. He hired someone to steal it for him. The plan failed and the chip is back in our possession. Not that there won’t be consequences. But as far as Gyges goes, I don’t think we have anything more to fear from Epstein.”
At that moment, the door opened and a head popped into the room. “Chief Justice Xiling?”
The Chief Acolyte lunged forward and intercepted the young girl before she could enter. Pushing her outside, the door closed behind them.
The Chief Justice continued to examine himself critically in the mirror.
After a few moments, the Chief Acolyte returned, his face grim. “We really must arrange a security detail for you,” he said.
The Chief Justice shrugged. “I have a means of defending myself. It’s more than adequate. Those in my service can be put to better uses.” The Chief Justice seemed satisfied. He stepped grandly off the little dais.
“General Munib wants to see you.”
“Yes, I know. I was listening. Do I have any more appointments this afternoon?”
“He has time for a pleasant little ride in his tank after dinner.”
The Chief Justice stroked his chin. “Are you making fun of me?” he asked softly.
The Chief Acolyte shook his head. “Never, master. It’s just that you said – ”
The Chief Justice swung around and headed towards the door. “Am I available at that time?”
“Yes.”
The Chief Justice stood waiting. Remembering himself, the Chief Acolyte rushed over and pulled the door open. Before stepping through it, though, the Chief Justice tilted his head and remarked softly, “If you were to develop a bite to match that bark, I think I should have to do something about it.”
The Chief Acolyte nodded obediently.
The Chief Justice patted his head. “Now then, tell the little general the time he suggested is fine. And don’t make any more appointments for the rest of the day.”
“Yes, master.”
Suddenly, his look hardened. “Is this Gyges intelligent?”
The Chief Acolyte thought for a moment. “Yes, but not exceptionally.”
“And his companions?” The Chief Acolyte did not reply. “Of course,” the Chief Justice nodded. “You didn’t speak with them. Your task was to quiz him alone.” He paused. “At some point we’ll have to assess the others as well. A man who isn’t gifted with extraordinary intelligence may make use of what he has to surround himself with people who are.”
“But no one can make up for lack of true genius.”
The Chief Justice nodded. “Now listen, boy, and put your worries to rest. Those ID cards aren’t meant to hide them from Epstein at all. Their numbers are tattooed on their backs like every other ordinary. He knows who they are and where they are hiding. He may even take an interest in them for a while. But when nothing noteworthy happens and enough time has passed, his attention will shift to other matters.”
“Leaving us free to claim the ring.”
The Chief Justice smiled. “On the other hand, should we have altered their tattoos, should we have erased their memories and given them new faces, we would only have piqued Epstein’s curiosity. He would be searching for them night and day.”
“You are wise, master.”
“We should count ourselves lucky that we aren’t facing off against someone more shrewd. Do you understand?”
The Chief Acolyte nodded.
“I’m talking about Epstein,” the Chief Justice snapped.
“I know.”
The Chief Justice grunted and stepped through the door. The Chief Acolyte, holding his briefcase, flowed silently after him.
Marcellus, sitting on a fold-out chair next to Maya, was hunched over, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. He was shaking his head. “None of this makes sense,” he complained.
Maya, still laid out on the couch, looked – and felt – much better. A doctor Jango knew agreed to come by and patch her up. Fortunately, she wasn't badly hurt. Aside from a sprained ankle, all she really suffered from were cuts, tears, and bruises. The bad foot was wrapped in a bandage, iced, and elevated. Her straight, long hair was neatly combed (Jennifer had helped her) and she had on a change of clothes, loose white pants made of some flimsy material and a plain, sleeveless, brown-green top with two thin straps reaching over her shoulders.
Icarus, dressed as usual in black pants and a T-shirt of a slightly different shade of black (this one said “Pantera” on it and was accompanied by a gruesome print involving skeletons and cowboys), was sitting on the ground, intently cleaning his glasses.
Jango, flipping through a magazine called “Ammo”, sat with his legs splayed over the arm of a chair. His leather cowboy hat was pulled low over his eyes. He was sipping a cheap, watery beer out of a plastic can. Every once in a while, he burped.
Jennifer, wearing a brown, shiny miniskirt, was sitting in the other armchair, a vaguely disinterested look on her face. She sat awkwardly, legs tossed to the side and tightly pressed together. One of her hands dangled in the air as if waiting for birds to perch. Occasionally, she blew on it.
“You flew into San Francisco,” Marcellus said, peeking at Maya through his fingers. “When you got off the plane, you say you were seized by two goons in red and orange suits who led you off into a back room and drugged you.”
“It happened just like I said.” Maya sighed bitterly. “Why don't you believe me?”
“Just play along for a minute,” He removed the hands from his face and sat up. “You were drugged. How do you know where they took you?”
“It was The Company, Mark. I saw the two triangles.”
“The logo? Where?”
“We walked through the front door into the main lobby.”
“You just walked right in.”
“Well, no, they had me strapped in a wheelchair and I was gagged.”
Marcellus wanted to believe it, but her story didn't make sense. “Look, Maya, if it was the Company that had you, they wouldn't have let you go.” He shrugged. “It's as simple as that.”
“Unless they wanted to follow her back to us,” Icarus pointed out.
Marcellus frowned at the suggestion. “What else do you remember?”
Maya closed her eyes and sighed. Her head sank into a big, fluffy pillow. She was still weak. “It's just bits and pieces really,” she said. “There are large gaps. Whatever they gave me to keep me out, they had to keep giving me more.” After a brief pause, she opened her eyes. “I remember being interrogated. They didn’t drug me for that.” Her face darkened. “They gave me something else.”
“You were in those underground rooms. Where we met the Iron Lady.”
“Yes. It was definitely The Company, Mark. I remember it clearly. They can erase them but they can't fabricate memories, can they?”
“They could have interrogated you in the sim,” Icarus pointed out. “It could have seemed like any place in the world, real or not. That's a fact.”
“But I gave them the chip. That was real enough.”
Icarus paused. “True,” he finally admitted and returned to cleaning his lenses.
Maya’s eyes dropped. “The drug they gave me. The pain… I could feel it working in my veins. Like fire. They told me when the feeling reached my heart I’d be dead.”
Marcellus smiled at her encouragingly. “Were they surprised?”
Maya responded with a brief but sagging smile of her own. “At first they didn't think it was real.” She lifted up the palm of her hand and showed it to him. “They got mad when they realized I had it with me the whole time.”
“Yes, well, I thought they might be expecting something more elaborate.” The idea to have a color-fork tuned to the color of Maya’s skin and use it on the chip had been Marcellus’. There was a glue available at any hardware store that operated on static electricity. The hardest part was incorporating a tiny, magnetic field that would scramble any attempt to scan for it. Icarus tried explaining what he had done, but the truth is no one understood but him.
“After that –”
“After that they took you to the moon.” This was the part Marcellus had the most trouble with.
“Someone took me to the moon. I don’t think it was them, though.”
“Why?”
“Because I vaguely remember being on the streets outside, in the city under the open sky, and getting caught in a security screen.”
“What were you doing in the streets?”
Maya lifted her eyebrows. “Who knows. Wandering around, probably.”
“Without any cards.”
“I stumbled into a line of people and when I tried to back out a guard unit tagged me. They processed me on the spot.”
“They took you to the moon,” Marcellus repeated.
She nodded.
“What happened to you there?”
“I told you. I don’t know. I remember the landscape, though. I remember seeing the Earth.” Her voice trailed away and her eyes lost some of their focus.
“And then?”
Maya shook her head as if to break away silky filaments. “And then?” she repeated. “Then I remember being in a car.”
“Here on Earth.”
“Yes, Mark,” she grated, responding to his sarcasm. “I was in a car. The people driving were uniformed police. They gave me this address. Then they opened the door and pushed me out. We were about two meters off the ground and still moving.”
“You say they gave you this address?”
Maya looked at him stonily.
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Marcellus glanced at Jango, but he seemed preoccupied with his magazine. “Hey, Jango, mind helping out here?”
Jango didn’t look up. “It’s your job to figure things out, Mark.”
Marcellus pursed his lips. “What about you, Icarus?” he grumbled.
“I'm listening,” he replied, putting on his glasses.
“I see,” Marcellus said curtly. “And making stupid comments besides.”
Icarus shrugged. “Don't take your frustrations out on me, Mark. I don't see what your problem is. You can do whatever you want, and you're still miserable.”
“Is he wearing his ring?” Jennifer asked.
“No,” Jango answered, flipping a page.
“What do you care if I’m wearing the ring or not?”
“He hasn’t worn it since the night we got held up here in the house,” Jango added.
“Held up?” Maya interjected. “You didn't tell me about that.” Her eyes narrowed. “What else haven't you told me?”
“You were sick,” Marcellus reminded her. “I’ll tell you about what happened later. Right now, I'm concerned about you.”
“Thanks,” Maya rasped sarcastically and glared up at the ceiling.
There was a moment of silence before Icarus finally spoke up. “Do you remember seeing other people on the moon?”
“What difference does it make?” Maya asked crankily.
“Do you remember –”
“Goddamn it!” Maya gurgled and rather unconvincingly punched the couch with her fist. “Will you all stop pestering me with these questions?”
“Icarus – ” Marcellus began.
“No wait,” Icarus cut in. “Let me finish.”
Jennifer giggled and blew a bubble. “He's going to bless us with his wisdom.”
“I need to get some sleep,” Maya protested weakly. But they all sat staring at her expectantly. She couldn't ignore them. “Yeah,” she finally said, “there were lots of people up there, more than I would have expected anyway. Mostly army. They were carrying laser tubes. Like what we had back at The Company. Pretty cool shit. You’d like them, Jango.”
Icarus thought for a moment. “Just what I thought. They don't take people all the way to the moon because they don’t have ID cards. You know what I think?”
“Here it comes,” Jennifer purred, rolling her eyes.
“I think The Company is really the Supreme Court, or whatever it is the freak works for. I think both the chip and the ring are theirs. And I think the President, or someone working for him, is looking for us, too, because he wants the chip, too. You got nabbed on your way back in, first by the Supreme Court, and then by Epstein. That's what I think.”
“Where’d you come up with that load of crap?” Jango blurted out, throwing down his magazine.
“Well, first of all there's the freak. He knew Maya didn’t have the chip. Only someone working at The Company or up on the moon could have known that, and they aren’t cooperating with one another.”
“No one said the guys on the moon were looking for the chip, Icarus,” Marcellus reminded him. “Right?” He turned expectantly to Maya.
“What else did they want her for?” Icarus insisted. “To show her the view? Definitely more than not having identification. They have other places where they conduct those kinds of interrogations, and they don’t just drop you off afterwards. But the people on the moon were army, which means they had to be Epstein’s. Which means The Company has to be Supreme Court. Then there’s the fact he gives us ID cards. They’re not meant to protect us from The Company at all.”
“They’re not meant to protect us from the police, either,” Jennifer retorted. “They know our address!”
Icarus shrugged. “Now we can move around. Without ID cards we’d be stuck here. It would only be a matter of time before we got caught and dragged off to a freemocracy camp. They took Maya because they thought she still had the chip. They didn’t know The Company got to her first.”
“Why didn’t they come after any of the rest of us?” Marcellus asked.
Icarus shrugged again. “Maybe they knew Maya had it all along. Mongolia is under the Chinese sphere of influence. They probably couldn’t get to her there.”
“So according to you we’re safe?” Jango growled.
Icarus threw up both hands in protest. “All I’m saying is that the Supreme Court got to Maya first, and then she got picked up by the national guard. Guess they got some top secret operation going on the moon.”
“We still have the ring,” Jennifer sneered. “Don't they want that, too?”
“Who’s to say Epstein or anyone working for him knows about it?” Icarus countered.
“Maybe they do know about it,” Jennifer answered petulantly. “They could barge through that door any time.”
Icarus laughed at her. “I doubt it.”
“Why?” she demanded defensively, blowing on her fingertips.
“Because,” he replied with a hint of superiority, “there's no reason to wait. Now is the perfect time. Mark doesn’t want to use it. He’s not even wearing it! But that's going to change. Eventually. I hope.”
“Fucking know-it-all,” Jennifer grumbled. She wanted to argue, to say something smart, but she couldn’t think of anything.
“Why aren't you wearing the ring?” Jango demanded suddenly.
An uncomfortable look passed over Marcellus' face. “What if I do stuff by accident? You know, forget I'm wearing it and make people – ” He cut himself off with a vague gesture.
“That's not a reason,” Jango answered soberly. “You have to learn how to use it. Better to start now.”
“Using it is easy!”
“Yeah, well, why did you let the acolyte get away?” He paused, but Marcellus didn’t say anything. “Guess you have to spend some time learning not to, you know, make us eat shit or stick our fingers in the blender or something.” He laughed gruffly, but it was a bad joke.
“Will someone please tell me why all the talk about this ring?” Maya demanded sourly.
Marcellus went upstairs and retrieved it while they told her.
“Oh,” Maya said, a bit unnerved. She wasn’t sure how to respond. “Can I see it?”
Marcellus lifted up his hand and showed it to her.
“Yeah, okay, it’s pretty and all,” she said and shrugged her shoulders.
Jango chuckled. “She doesn't believe us.”
“That's a lot of believing you're asking, Jango!”
Marcellus and Icarus exchanged glances.
“Alright,” Marcellus agreed.
“But this is the last time,” Icarus said.
“Last time what?” Maya asked warily.
“The last time I’m going to use it on any of you,” Marcellus told her and swallowed thickly.
“You’re going to make me do something I don't want to?” Maya laughed, but suddenly she didn't sound very convincing. “Why are you all looking like that?”
“The only way you'll believe,” Icarus told her, “is if you experience it yourself.”
Jango, big man that he was, stood up and walked stiffly out of the room.
“You sound like you're going to enjoy it,” Jennifer said accusingly. She was glaring at Icarus.
“I'm not going to enjoy it!” he snapped. “It's a horrible thing to do to someone!”
“How would you know?”
Icarus gestured after Jango.
Jennifer snorted. “He's a sadist. He'll get over it. I'm surprised he's not in here with a bag of popcorn.”
“Will you two shut up so I can concentrate?” Marcellus complained.
Jennifer turned on him. “What are you going to make her do?” she demanded. “Nothing embarrassing, I hope.”
Marcellus shook his head. “I haven't decided yet. Any ideas?”
“What about use it on someone else?” Jennifer suggested.
“Who?” Icarus retorted. “You want to go for a walk?”
“The poor girl's just had a nasty fall!” Jennifer shouted. She stood up suddenly. “What about you? Maybe Markie can make you scrape all those fucking zits off your face!”
Icarus took a step towards her. “I'm had about enough of you,” he growled. “You may be a woman, but – ”
Jennifer thrust her chin out. “Go ahead, you filthy mongrel. Give it a go!” She held up her hand as if she were measuring something, two fingers only millimeters apart. “You're that far away from getting your ass kicked!”
It was at this point that Marcellus exploded. “You two are driving me fucking nuts! Shut the fuck up, the both of you! I can't think!”
An awkward silence descended upon them all, broken only by Marcellus' heavy breathing.
Maya had been watching patiently, eyes darting from interlocutor to interlocutor. “Alright,” she finally spoke into the restive silence, laying her head back in the fluffy pillow and closing her eyes. “You've proved your point. Now would you leave me alone so I can get some sleep?”
This site and all its contents are the result of the tumultuous workings of the mind of one Adam Wasserman.