IGMS Issue 26

by IGMS

  "You're mine to use," said the king simply.

  Bay's rage rose to her cheeks and brought her heart high in her throat. "You dare to tell me that -- but to use it as a trap for the sons of your enemies -- and God help you, your allies --"

  Instead of answering, the king said, "I sleep protected, you know."

  Cold steel settled against the back of Bay's neck. She grew very still.

  "Drop the sword." Bay did so. Her sword clattered to the stone between them. The king sat as dignified in bed as he would have on the throne. "Where are my daughters?"

  "One is drugged and asleep," said Bay. The sword at her neck pressed her into a shallow bow. "The others are trapped under stone in the ruins of your kingdom. I did not stay to see their fate."

  The king's face went slack with horror. "The . . . ruins . . .?"

  "The dead are free and the walls were crumbling as I left."

  The lines in his face deepened into a mask. "Oh, what have you done?"

  "You are a traitor to your people," Bay hissed, "and your daughters are dead for it."

  The king's voice shook. "Kill her."

  The moment he spoke -- at the first syllable of "kill" -- Bay threw herself flat onto her stomach. She snatched up the sword and rolled beneath the king's bed. Her shoulders scraped the underside of his mattress. She scrambled to her feet on the other side -- in enough time to block the guard's blow. She let her shoulder slide close to his. The swords kissed and wrestled. Just as the guard's muscle began to overpower her own, Bay slid aside. The guard stumbled forward on his own force. His head cracked against the bedpost. Bay kicked his feet out from under him and finished him with a quick stroke to the neck. She turned the swordpoint again to the king.

  This time he quailed. "Don't kill me."

  They stared at each other for a long time, soldier and liege. "I took oaths for this kingdom," said Bay at last. "I would no more slit your throat than my own."

  The king said nothing. Bay did not let the point of her sword waver. She swallowed hard.

  "But hear this," she said. "I will kill any man you send after me. And then I will tell everyone I see about the kingdom under your kingdom, and how you filled it."

  "No one will believe you."

  "That will be on their conscience, not mine. I pray it will weigh on yours."

  In a puff of smoke, Khloromain, with her things, appeared beside her. He looked from Bay to the king to the fallen guard and back. "I take it we don't get the reward after all."

  "Bid his majesty well," Bay sneered. She tossed down the dead soldier's sword and took up her own. It felt friendly in her hand. "I'll explain on the way."

  The bedchamber door slammed behind them. Khloromain said, "Not even a thank you?"

  "Not even a thank you," said Bay. She didn't look back. "You were right. Kings are kings. Best we leave this one be."

  The sun had risen before they dared stop. Bay changed back into her uniform and rolled the ball gown into a tight cylinder to keep in the bottom of her pack. She didn't want to sell something that lovely quite so soon.

  Khloromain came to sit on her shoulder. "I suppose the adventure wasn't a total waste."

  "How's that?"

  "You finally spent a wish."

  "Don't think I'll use the other two so lightly."

  "Lightly!" he said. "If rescue from eleven witches and an army of the dead is what you call 'light' then I hope we never get into a really tight spot! You're just lucky I deigned to get us both out of there in the bargain."

  She patted the spot between his ears with one finger. "Thank you, Khloromain."

  "Ah," he said. "Well. You see. Your misfortune is my misfortune."

  Bay grinned. "And my fortune . . ."

  "We'll talk about that if we ever have any. Which, given the nature of our adventures, seems increasingly unlikely."

  "Oh?" said Bay. "Then what do you call this?"

  She drew from her jacket a silver twig with two perfect, diamond leaves.

  Khloromain let out a shouting laugh. "I call that a good day's work!"

  "I call it a few more nights in feather beds, and a chance at retirement, if we can find a buyer."

  "Not in this kingdom, if I may be so bold."

  "No," said Bay, with a sigh. "No, I think this kingdom is done with us. But there are many more."

  Khloromain settled against her collar. "Then let us find them."

  They turned toward the north, to strange lands and strange roads, and the only sounds were the wind in the trees and the squeak of supple boots with brand-new soles.

  Story with Pictures and Conversation

  by Brontops Baruq

  Artwork by Kevin Wasden

  * * *

  (Notebook manufactured from biodegradable material. Twenty pages of unlined white paper and ten of tracing paper. Expiration date: five years after removal of packaging.)

  This was our building.

  (Drawing of a rectangle filled in by tiny squares or triangles. Attempt to express regularity, despite not using a ruler. Other rectangles and triangular forms represent the megalopolitan skyline. Presence of blimps and floaters.)

  This is us: daddy, mommy, me, and Quequé1, our pet rat.

  (Father, mother, child, and a transgenic rodent inside a box full of stripes, probably a cage.)

  We watched the space war on TV.

  (Geometric figures are spaceships; dashed lines, lasers and torpedoes; stars with more than six points, explosions. Rhombi and tetrahedrons represent Anemoids and the Subspace Travel Arch respectively.)

  When Mars caught on fire, daddy told mommy for us to go to Grandma and Grandpa's house. We went by train. I liked it, I got to miss school. Daddy stayed, he'd catch up with us later. So Quequé stayed to take care of daddy. Daddy told me don't be afraid and kissed me.

  (Paternal figure with transgenic rodent and its cage. Its color was altered, probably from being an animal whose cells react empathetically to the humans around it; however, it could be because the child did not locate a pencil with the adequate color.)

  This is Grandpa and Grandma's house. It's a HOUSE! There's a yard and ants, but the best is Whale2, their dog, they also have a turtle called Donatello, and a white jabuticaba tree, that they just call white jabuticaba tree.

  (Representation of a house. Door, window, roof, and parabolic receptor depicted beside fruit-bearing trees. Grandparent images small in comparison to that of the turtle and especially to that of the dog.)

  I wanted to watch the Spaceboy cartoon, but the news kept breaking in. Grandma was going to connect to the monitor to watch the cartoons, but Grandpa wanted to show me their yard. We went to the garage, there was a bunch of old stuff. Tons of junk. I asked why they didn't throw all that in the trash, Grandpa said that everything there had special value, so I asked why they didn't hurry up and sell it. Grandpa showed me processors, a sewing machine, a mechanical man, a pong, a rubber stamp, and a hoe. He told me that his grandfather's grandfather killed a man with a hoe just like that. He had a bunch of books that made me sneeze a lot. I liked it when he told me what a flying fortress was. I thought it was a castle.

  (Drawing of aerial combat. Observe the mixture of artifacts from different eras, like Volkswagen Beetles, Ford Mavericks, biplanes, MiGs, Barracudas, Anemoids, and Stingrays. The possession of non-licensed archaic items is illegal according to Federal Law 7.901/09, and regulated by Decrees 272 and 4002 of the Secretary of Sanitary Affairs and Cultural Archeological Maintenance.)

  Mosquito bit me and I stared at it like a fool, mommy chewed me out: Why do you just keep looking? I felt sorry for it, I'd never seen a mosquito or ant or doodlebug in the city. Later it itched. Grandma sprayed it. At night I couldn't sleep. I went to the den and everyone was watching the television. I wanted to know where that was and they just said it was in Africa and sent me to bed. I listened to them watching TV until really late.

  (Heads on spits. Based on the great quantity, it is probably a reference to the Mombasa Ma
ssacre. Or are they mosquitoes? Spaceboy character in corner shooting psychotronic rays at primitively-depicted xenocreatures, identified thanks to their respiration canal.)

  Grandpa, Grandma, and mommy explained to me that we needed to save up. We went to the supermarket, it was a real mess. Grandpa stayed with me in the car, I wanted to ask them for a bunch of stuff, but I didn't. Lie, I asked for an orange-flavored apple, but Grandpa said that was a big city thing, there they only had the normal ones. Grandpa turned on loud music and said it was Chico Buarque and the Stones. When Grandma and mommy came back, they said there wasn't practically anything left. Grandma sneaked me a chocolate. Afterwards I played with Whale. Mosquito itch.

  (Drawings of automobiles and the dog. The sixteen-character sequence in the left corner is the DNA series number of the Fisher Golden Dalmatian. Although it's considered an uncommon and antiquated canine race, it is still possible to illegally download a clone of the same animal for recreational use in some unmonitored regions. Anemoids and blimps depicted in the corners.)

  At night, I cried a lot because of daddy.

  (Page torn out. Remains of paper stuck in spiral like a slack spine among ribs.)

  Again, just the news on television. Grandpa took me to the yard and showed me a sling. He asked me not to tell mommy, not even Grandma. He asked me not to kill birds. He asked me not to hit windows, not to aim at anybody's eye. To be really careful around the wasp's nest on the porch. I almost asked him to not ask anything else and unteach me how to use the sling.

  (Drawings of children and adults spread across the page. Presence of tic-tac-toe boards and old droodles like "flea jumping between rhinoceros horns," "giraffe passing behind a window," and "ship arriving too late to save a drowning witch.")

  At night, everything dark. Grandma explained that was for the Martians not to spot us. I explained to Grandma that they weren't Martians, they were from Zeta Reticulari, Grandma said Martian, ET, alien, Zwingding, it was all the same thing. I was going to say that the Martians must have a way of seeing in the dark, but I figured she wouldn't listen. I cried a lot because of daddy.

  (Drawing of a Zwingding and other bioforms with arrows leading to different stars in the Reticulum constellation. Some were copied from reference books and informative brochures.)

  Grandma woke me up for breakfast. I didn't see mommy. Grandpa and Grandma told me that she went to look for daddy. I didn't cry. I went to play with Whale. I played with the sling, knocking down guavas. They were all wormy.

  (Drawing of Whale: the Canidae description highlights its conduct and patience in dealing with children. At that time, interspecies enslavement was still permitted.)

  At night, I jumped out of bed. Whale was barking like crazy. I went to the porch. Grandpa and Grandma in their pajamas looking up. Grandma was praying. It was all really pretty. They looked like kites looked like fish looked like match embers looked like campfire remains looked like fires. We didn't hear anything. Grandpa thought they were from space. He made us all sleep together in the basement. I didn't cry. I thought it was cool to sleep all snuggled up with Whale. Donatello was there, but that wasn't as cool.

  (Couple in front of house pointing up at the sky. Black pencil used until point broken. Substituted for a dark blue one. Triangular and round objects of various colors. Observe the change in the quality of the representation. The Centipedes and their torpedoes can be clearly identified.)

  Grandpa came in from the city. He said it was best we packed our bags and left everything ready for anything. And mommy? Grandma gave Grandpa a dirty look: "He's not supposed to hear!" I don't know who "he" was, must be Donatello, but I didn't see him in the kitchen. I said that mommy was going to find daddy. Grandpa turned away and Grandma said that we wouldn't leave without mommy. Grandma told me to climb the jabuitcaba tree and eat jabuticaba, to enjoy of the house.

  (Boy on top of tree, Whale underneath. The white jabuticaba was never common, but later its cultivation spread rapidly in some terraformed colonies. The black seed is covered by a white flesh and delicate, violet veins. The poet Zaran Hierro described the white jabuitcabas like this: an eye whose pupil drowned in the white of the full moon like a swallowing eclipse.)

  Later Grandpa told me he'd like to live in the woods, but that he wasn't a kid anymore to feel safe just anywhere. I told Grandpa that I wasn't a kid anymore either, but that I liked the house and that it was the best house in the world that I'd ever stayed in and that I'd hold his hand if he needed it. Grandpa smiled and then went to the garage to look for a book. He showed me the cover, you still don't know how to read so well, but when you need it, remember this book. I stored it with my stuff, right by the Spaceboy game.

  (Drawing of old man and weapons. Heads on spits. Towers in flames. Rose-watering drone.)

  At night we all slept together. I woke up from Whale crying. I got up, Grandpa and Grandma weren't there. I heard the dog again. It was scary, but I went upstairs, heart pounding in my ears. I walked through the house in the dark, saw some lights coming from outside and didn't know what it was. I heard noises like the house was full of ghosts. Daddy and mommy taught that ghosts don't exist, but didn't teach how not to be afraid. And I walked along really afraid. I saw a green light out on the porch and Whale dead at the foot of a Bug.

  (Hard scribbles tore the paper in the middle. The hostile xenocreature certainly was one of the victims of the torpedoing of an orbiting Centipede. It must have defragmented in the family's yard thanks to the presence of the large parabolic, consonant with the xenocreature's mass.)

  I didn't scream, Grandma told me to be careful with the live ones, I didn't scream, I bit my lip and held a hand over my mouth, so not to scream. Grandpa and Grandma on the porch, the Bug with its back to me, the green light came from it, it looked like a lady-bug fish lamp peach blowfly. I let go of my mouth to scream at the Martian son of a bitch stay away from my Grandfather, the Bug turned toward me and I aimed the sling at its eye, but I missed, and the stone passed straight by, hit the wasp nest and then the living room window. Grandma was going to kill me, the nest fell on its head like a guava, the bugs biting the Bug. Grandma came at it with a broom, Grandpa threw a chair at it, us screaming, the wasps biting, Grandpa yelled for me to get help and I don't know why I decided to get the hoe, I went to the garage, but it was heavy, I dragged the iron on the cement, when I heard the shot.

  (Observe the cranial air-holes, the mating tongs, and the different sex genitals on the xenocreature's chest. Scribbles from the previous page passed through to this sheet, impairing identification of its rank.)

  I came back running to the porch. It was mommy. Backpack on her back, Quequé's cage on the ground, headband on, and a pistol pointed at the Bug. I made it in time to see her shoot it again, the blood splattered everything really green and gold. Grandma was crying just like I did when I hit my foot on a rock the other day. It was scary. I hugged Grandpa. He said that we'd make another Whale later. I wanted that one, not another one. Mommy told us: "We need to get out of here." And I asked: "Where's daddy?" And she: "Daddy's not coming. He found himself a woman from Bahia."3 I wanted to say that she was from Minas,4 but I thought it best to keep quiet. I'm a kid, but I'm not stupid.

  (Many vehicles on the road. Presence of Barracudas and Anemoids. Note the conflagrations on top of the hills. Drawing of turtle and transgenic rat. Information inserted on identification label at the end of the notebook: "Under suspicion of human falsification to encourage Resistance morale.")

  * * *

  1 Translator's note: Quequé is the name of a womanizing traveling salesman in the book Pensão Riso da Noite - Rua das Mágoas by José Condé 2 Translator's note: Whale (from the original "Baleia") is the name of the dog in Vidas Secas (Dry Lives), one of the seminal works of Brazilian literature. In it, a destitute farming family in the Brazilian northeast moves again and again in a failed search for sustainable land.

  3, 4 Translator's note: Bahia and Minas (short for Minas Gerais) are states in Braz
il.

  Translation by Christopher Kastensmidt.

  Somewhere on a Flattened Earth

  by David Lubar

  Artwork by Lance Card

  * * *

  I thought everyone knew the Earth was flat. But today, in my new school, Mrs. Amstrew talked about how the Earth was round. Seriously. At first, I thought it was some kind of joke. But I snuck some glances at the other kids, and nobody was laughing. After a while, I realize Mrs. Amstrew thought it was a fact, and not some kind of crazy story.

  I wanted to raise my hand and tell her she was wrong. Mom and Dad had taught me all about it. The Earth is flat, of course. You can fall off the edge if you're not careful. That's not a big problem right now, since we don't live near the edge. Dad wouldn't make us move some place dangerous, even though we move a lot. But maybe, when I'm older, I might travel. If I ever get close to the edge, I'll be real careful, because there are dragons waiting to eat you if you fall.

  After school, I ran right home and told Mom what had happened in class. I could tell she wasn't happy about this. "You can't fight ignorance," she said. "Just be a good boy and listen to their lies. Don't let them discover that you know the truth. If they found out, you'd be in danger. We all would."

  "Yes, Mom," I said. "I'll never let them know. I'll never put us in danger."

  "They'll tell you other false things, too," she said. "That's how they control people - with lies and misinformation. But you're smart enough to see the truth."

  She was right about the lies. A week later, we saw a film that showed baby mice being born. It was a fake. I know that for a fact, because Mom and Dad had already explained how baby animals appear. Mice come from old bits of wheat that are sitting on the floor of a barn near sweaty pieces of cloth. That's why it's important for me to pick up my clothes. Each animal appears in a different way. That's a fact. But it's all spontaneous.