"OK, K*nt. So I can't nuke you, even if you weren't here in the plane with me. That Martian refugee at bellcore has disappeared. We're primed for fun, but there's no bear. What now?"
"There's always tris...NO! What about Kaldis?"
"Nah. CJ & Bill might want to, but not me..."
Miles's shadow speaks up, darkly. "What about...carasso?"
"He's dead. Hmmm. What about regwan?"
The gloves pipe up from out of sight, "Yeah! Yeah! yeah!"
"OK. K*nt, chart us a course for the UCLA math building. Might as well make yourself useful!"
Meanwhile, back at the jet ranch, dfan was busy erasing the attempts to draw a match from the hanger's west face. As pennance, it was probably on the light side, considering his mistake. Besides, he loved stargazing. The rain had stopped, the clouds had scattered, the constellation Wuh was plainly visible; Dfan was content. In the pre-dawn, moonless light, the stars flickered silently. A starship must have hit a power pole somewhere.
"Hey! That's my left eye!" the hanger snarled.
"Sorry," mumbled Dfan, carefully leaving Stormwind's successful drawing of a "Strike Anywhere Wooden" alone, since it crossed the hanger's eyelid. "You shouldn't sleep so deeply."
"Oooh. That feels good. A little higher, there. Right over that brow. Ahhh. Thanks!"
Dfan rubbed the spot some more, and walked back towards the circle of others, as daylight peeked its horn-rimmed glasses over the horizon.
"Can't you go any faster?" pleaded CJ, gazing wistfully towards the eastern horizon.
"Look, CJ, I appreciate your letting me exist, but I am doing the best I can," explained a Sun, patiently and tenderly.
Dave # 3 held the object of their interest. A small, pulsating green pyramid. Its faces were sort of fuzzy, a cross between cordorouy and velcro in appearance, but harder than diamond. A high-pitched whine could be heard from the unit's base.
"Where did you GET that?", mr x demanded.
"Must have fallen out of BoB's pocket", replied Dave # 7.
"Well, where IS BoB?" asked jj and Cindy together, a perfect 3rd apart.
Dave # 2 replied. "Don't know. There was this thing there with his name carved on it - looked like it fell out of the sky. But no sign of BoB himself."
"@#!*^&$%^ recursive universe!", spat greg, staring alternately at the pyramid, and then at the people around him.
"Hey!" said a startled Dave # 4. " I always wondered how you pronounce them funny symbols!"
"Well, let's open it up," sighed Dave # 3. A collective gasp rose from all the non-Daves present.
"I think not...", mused mr x. Suddenly, he held the pyramid in his hand.
"Best not to meddle," he explained, and disappeared.
Go to next chapter.
Last updated: 29 Jun 1994
Copyright 1989, 1994 Miles O'Neal, Austin, TX. All rights reserved.
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This copyright may be freely used, distributed and modified subject to the conditions noted above in the preceeding paragraph. Miles O'Neal <roadkills.r.us@XYZZY.gmail.com> [remove the "XYZZY." to make things work!] c/o RNN / 1705 Oak Forest Dr / Round Rock, TX / 78681-1514