"Same back at'chya, hon'." Captain Pippy said.
Freedman was dressed in new robes, no longer the white of a novice but blue. He ran up and hugged Mr. Qruise.
"I've decided to open up a dojo and I felt that Sweetspot is just the place to do it, Mr. Qruise." Zenbot held Mr. Qruise by his shoulders. "Seeing as how my first student hasn't seen fit to visit me elsewhere."
"And you, Captain?" Mr. Qruise's eyes were dewy.
"Oh me. I'm doin' a job for Mancy. Workin' for her now. I'm in charge of hiding a special piece of paper." She winked at Mr. Qruise and then placed a finger in front of her mouth. "Don' tell anyone. Looks like I'll be in Sweetspot for a while. Opening a La2x Corp branch n'all."
"Does this mean Mancy will be visiting?"
"Yup."
Coming soon by Adam El Shalakany
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THE SKREECH.
A STRANGE 'VERSE NOVEL
THE MAGOOS DREAMS
STUCK BETWEEN THE CHECKPOINTS
Read on for an excerpt from Adam El Shalakany's upcoming Strange 'Verse Novel:
THE SKREECH
If you look at a map of the 'verse, you'll see an area unlike the rest. A giant empty area in the Kepler Region where things, and people, tend to disappear. You've got to know where to look but there, past the seas of space, dark matter and dark energy, and the odd island of light, there's this tiny little part at the edge of the map where in the old days they would have written 'here be dragons'.
The spot is tiny, really, on the map. The untrained eye might think it looks the same as the rest of the vast empty spaces of the 'verse. But it isn't. Or as the people living there would say if you asked them: "It ain't and mind your own Shen damn business."
In that tiny dark spot there are four stars, which due to their weird and bizarre orbit destroy their own electromagnetic radiation in a harmonized symphony of wave super destruction. Some say the stars weren't there before. That the creators of the 'verse put them there in a feat of stellar engineering. Others say a union of pirates, brigands and bounty hunters, using large, noisy, and mostly stolen stellar machines, dragged the stars across space and time and put them there to hide from the authorities. The Priests of Humanism say that the Baba spirit juggled the four stars to impress the great and beautiful Mama spirit, in a failed act of courtship.
They're all wrong.
What matters is that nestled between the four stars is a tiny planet called Disappear, hidden from the rest of the 'verse in that dark spot on the map. The constant scans sent out by the 'versal authorities: human, inorganic and other, disappear when near Disappear.
On this tiny planet a tiny city, by 'versal standards at least, can be found in the small area of land not irradiated by the four suns. A small sweetspot of life in the middle of desolation. As a result Sweetspot, as the city is called, summer or winter, is a hot, sweaty place.
The inhabitants of Sweetspot, due to Disappear's… inconspicuous nature, tend to be of the criminal variety.
One day, when the four stars were on the other side of Disappear, casting the town into that short period of fleeting darkness they call night, one of Sweetspot's citizens was climbing up a large skyscraper downtown. The citizen's shadow melded into the dark glass of the windows as she crept upwards through the night sky. She had large suckers attached to her knees and hands and was slowly sucking her way up the building. All four hundred and forty four floors up. The hot night wind rushed all around her and screamed in her ears.
There in the whispers of the wind, she imagined she could hear her mentor. "Some say it's no easy feat climbing up a skyscraper. That's rubbish. All you got to do is not fall down and success is inevitably guaranteed." Her mentor had been a right bastard.
"The general rule of thumb is to never look down. If you do, you generally regret it." For some reason she couldn't get her mentor's sage and useless advice out of her head. She stopped climbing and tried to regain control of herself and in doing so accidentally looked down.
She was half way up the tower. The city of Sweetspot lay beneath her. Two hundred and twenty two floors beneath her, and the sight made her heart go "kwapong", which is a strange sound for a heart to make, even in Disappear.
The citizen raised her right hand and placed one of her La2x designed suction pads a few feet above her, pulling herself up, trying to continue her climb and forget the rapid beating of her heart. When she shifted her weight and pulled herself up, the suction pad went 'plop' releasing her from the wall. She slipped and slid down the glass pane head first.When the suction pads finally took hold again she could see two hundred and twenty three floors down.
She was making progress.
Her heart went kwapong a second time. A sound she'd heard and made for the second time in her life and only in a span of ten seconds. The thought almost made her heart go kwapong a third time but she swallowed and watched the tiny vehicles below her zoom through the city, their dim lights hypnotizing.
"It's all going to be alright." Her mentor's voice said in her head. "Falling's the most painless way to fly." Her mentor coughed. "I'm sorry I meant to die."
She screamed but the sound got lost in the wind. After a few minutes of uncontrollable shivering she righted herself and continued up the skyscraper, being extra careful to ensure the suction pads were working properly. This was the last time she'd buy cheap La2x designs, she thought to herself.
When she got to the four hundredth and forty fourth floor she let out a satisfied sigh of relief. On the other side of the dirty window was a painting on a pedestal. She took out a small glass cutter and began cutting a circular hole into window. Dust crumbled off the pane and began its slow descent four hundred and forty four stories down.
Then when she was almost done and the circular hole was almost complete she saw a shadow move across the painting. Before her mentor's voice could go: "Eh? Woz that?" the shadow rushed towards her.
The window opened outwards.
There was a moment when she looked at the person opening the window and realized what had just happened. All four suction pads went plop, her heart went kwapong and the air went whoosh. She screamed, again, and fell realizing there would be no no self rescue that time.
Private investigator Nada Ai sat in her office with the window open. The curtain billowed slightly with every draft of hot air from outside, and lapped gently at her shoulder. Nada sat with her legs on the table, dressed in a crumpled shirt and sweatpants. She was a small thin woman, with short, blue hair which fell off her head from both sides, leaving heavy black bangs hanging above her eyes.
Her teeth bit at a wooden toothpick. She was bored. She hadn't had a job in weeks. She fished around in her sweatpants and pulled out a pouch of freshly replicated tobacco, not yet dried by the arid Sweetspot weather. She patted the pouch gently and then returned it inside her pocket. She began chomping at the toothpick in her mouth.
Then she bent over to pull open the rusty drawer to her right. The drawer refused to open. She gave the drawer two violent tugs, and then a thump, before the drawer surrendered and gave itself up to Nada. She pulled out a small folded letter. She hesitated with the letter in her hands, not daring to open the tiny piece of paper. She placed it flat on the desk and stared at it for a while.
An old fan in the corner of the office had a lump of melting ice in front of it. As the fan twirled in front of her, a smile broke out over her face. The spinning blades did little to cool the hot air wafting in from the window, but little was still better than nothing. Then as suddenly as the smile had come, her smile melted into a frown. The fan gave out a couple of groans and sputtered out. What little cool wind it added to the room disappeared and was replaced by the stifling choking heat of Sweetspot.
Nada eyed the letter on the desk, little droplets of sweat rolled down her face and landed on the velvety rich electro-paper. She stood up and walked over to the fan, hitting it violently. After a few violent thumps failed to fix the problem, she kicked it. When that fa
iled she knelt next to the fan and began to play with the wiring beneath. She wound and twisted the wires, hoping to jolt the electrons back into play. Once she was satisfied with the extent of her technical prowess, she stood over the fan once more and gave it a final thump. The blades whirred back to life, the cool wind cooling her face and letting the sweat fly.
She went back to her desk and stared at the letter, smiling as the fan air cooled her face. She sat back in her chair, eyes closed, and soaked in the satisfaction.
Glass shattered and went flying from the window. When she opened her eyes she could see a brick as it soared through the air and crashed onto the fan with a heavy clunk.
The cool wind stopped.
She kicked the desk angrily. "Fu-" She stopped herself and took a couple of deep breaths. "Screw it." She said, finally. She pulled open the rusty drawer and took out her pipe.
She'd been trying to quit.
As she packed her pipe angrily, she eyed the dim sign hanging from outside her office window in neon lighting: "Private Ai". Beneath the sign, written in cursive 'versal was: "Find who or what you want, payme t up ront". The 'n' and 'f' had fallen off the sign. She focused on tamping her pipe. She didn't have the time, the energy or the credit to fix the sign. She was also purposefully ignoring the brick with the note attached. And the letter on the desk, of course. She drummed her fingers on the fake wood of her desk in thought.
Private Ai wasn't a very successful investigation firm. Nada was its manager and only employee. So far, in the year she'd been running it, the only clients who'd hired her were wee old grannies looking for lost checkbooks, little girls looking for lost kitties, and ornery old men looking for their lost, hidden 'stashes' of dirty magazines. None of them paid well…or sometimes, she'd found out the hard way, at all.
They'd told her a planet full of criminals wouldn't provide a lot of job opportunity for a private investigator. She'd aimed to prove them wrong, and thus far had failed miserably.
Nada's stomach rumbled and her head snapped back to the broken window. The scent of food wafted into the office, piggybacking off the hot wind drafting in. She instinctively stuck a hand inside her pocket and felt around inside. The weak clang of credit tokens echoed back. She pulled her hand back out, and placed a few tokens on the desk, next to the letter. All she had in the world was contained in that office, the letter, the brick with the note attached, the fan beneath the brick, and the three measly, rusted and chipped credit tokens on the desk.
Her stomach rumbled again.
Shaking off her drowsiness, she stood purposefully, grabbing the tokens. Stepping out of her office, she went one floor down and out into the high-noon streets of Sweetspot. The sun 'Rouge' hung high up in sky casting a red glare over the rolling dust. Its sisters' 'Azraq' and 'Luse' were setting and rising respectively giving the horizon, or at least the horizon of buildings, a rainbow tinge at the edges.
The surrounding small two or three story buildings were all dilapidated and gone to wear. Laundry hung out to dry under the suns. From the balconies men and women sat in their underwear and undershirts. The women had their hair done up in rolling irons, a few men did as well.
She followed the scent of the food to a plump, jolly man who stood in front of a food cart with a coal grill. He had deep brown skin from standing out under the suns. He twirled his mustache as he shouted theatrically: "Come and get your red hot corn on a cobs. Guaranteed 'fresh' parasite 'free'. If you got a parasite you ain't got it from me. Guaranteed." He put air quotes around the words 'fresh' and 'free'. When he was done he mumbled a disclaimer quickly under his breath.
He fanned the coals with a feather fan, twirling and pirouetting with every sweep, proud of his gait. No one was watching other than Nada.
It was still too hot and early for there to be any buyers.
The street vendor shouted again, wiping his greasy hands on his apron. "Come and get your red hot corn on a cobs."
Nada walked over and eyed the cart hungrily. She hadn't eaten that day, or the day before. Big fat multi-colored blobs of 'corn' hung above the coals, giving off a tantalizing scent of a good roast. She could see the butter melting on top of the cobs which were themselves wrapped in roasting onions. The mixed scent of onions, butter and corn tugged at her. She knew better than to approach Kobbler the street vendor, but - "What you selling this time, Kobbler?" She pressed her face as close to the corn cobs as she dared and sniffed in the aroma.
"Come and have a taste, Ms. Ai. Guaranteed 'fresh' parasite 'free'." He picked a particularly fat blob of purple corn off the grill with a pair of tongs and waved it in front of her. He pirouetted with the cob high in the air and grumbled the same short disclaimer as before under his voice.
"What was that?" Nada asked, looking up sharply from the corn.
Kobbler hung his head, leaned in and whispered. "I said any parasites you get are free and ain't guaranteed fresh."
"I thought as much." She stood up straight. Kobbler's food, while irresistible, was always a bad idea. Or a great idea with bad execution, depending on how drunk you were. "Bad parasites?" She asked, undeterred.
"Nah, nah. Only the best from Kobbler. Com'on do me a favor, dear, buy one. It's been a slow day." He waved the purple blob some more, letting the scent of the onions creep up her nostrils. Then, when he saw it was working, he poked her in the nose with the cob leaving a smear of butter on her face.
Nada frowned and pulled out her credits, there was a muted sound of jangling tokens as she rolled them around in her hand. Kobbler twitched his nose disapprovingly. "Doesn't sound like much, investigator. I'm not a charity. It took me a whole while to stea- buy these mutated corn cobs from my suppliers."
Nada opened her palm and let the tokens drop onto the cart, three tiny discs with holes in them.
"Oi," Kobbler crossed his arms, "that's only a few minutes worth. Can't get a cob for that." Then looking around at the empty street, absent of other buyers, he leaned in and whispered, "you could always pledge some more."
Nada didn't reply. She began picking up her tokens.
If there was something Kobbler hated more than seeing rusty, flimsy tokens from a buyer was to see them disappear. "Don't be so hasty. Alright, alright. You're cutting me' throat, but give me what you got and you get the cob."
Nada smiled, placing the small tokens in Kobbler's fat greedy hands. He chucked them into a hidden pocket behind his apron. They rang out loudly, clinking in contact with his stash.
"Don't tell anyone about the disclaimer, ay." He handed her a fat bulbous purple cob wrapped in a piece of cooking paper and sped off with his cart before she could change her mind. "Come and get your red hot corn on a cobs." He brayed as he disappeared in the distance.
Nada nibbled on her cob, grease and butter exploded in her mouth in a kaleidoscope of flavor, not all good. She knew she'd regret it later. She walked back into her office, using her free hand to open the door. She gave the fan, the brick and the broken window a cursory glance before sitting back at her desk. She opened the letter, leaving grease stains all over the paper.
"Dearest Sis,
Ma' and Pa' hope you're doing fine in the big city. If you ain't then we'd love to have you back at the farm. We can always use the extra hands. If you can't afford the ticket we'd be more than happy ta' -"
She stopped reading and placed the letter back on the desk, the remainder unread.
When she was done with the cob she crumpled up the cooking paper and chucked it at the bin in the corner of the office. She missed and the paper rolled off to the side.
"Damn." She got up and put the paper in the bin. She eyed the brick out of the corner of her eye, tapping her feet and twitching her mouth from side to side. Finally she sighed and inspected the note attached to the brick.
"Job for ya. Come to the Cucumber. Good deal."
She licked her lips, and eyed the letter on the desk. She shrugged her shoulders, put on her trench coat, wiped her greasy hands on the coat, and left.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Adam El Shalakany was born in Toronto, Canada, at the stroke of midnight on the summer solstice. A day when people usually get the maximum amount of sunlight possible. But for Adam the Gods made an exception and had it rain that week. As a midnight child he was quickly whisked away, back to his native land of Egypt, as ancient custom dictates. Time passed and Adam filled it with photography, traveling, video games, and of course reading and writing.
Adam found himself suddenly required to go to something called university.
He studied political science at McGill University in Montreal and later law at the School of Oriental and African Studies in London, England.
No sooner had Adam finished his law degree then the Egyptian Revolution called. Returning to Egypt, Adam worked as a lawyer during the day and breathed in tear gas at night. In the wee hours in between he got some writing done. As the years went by the time for writing increased.
Adam has written The Pink Heist and The Skreech set in the same 'verse should be released soon. Adam's other writings are set in Egypt and include: Stuck Between the Checkpoints (a novella) set in Cairo written during and about the military curfew in 2013 and The Magoos Dreams a fantasy novel set in revolutionary Cairo.
If you liked The Pink Heist and want to see Adam write some more please leave a review, it'd be a big help. You can also subscribe to Adam's blog at:
http://www.adamelshalakany.com
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