by Ramy Vance
We went in for a test and let me just put it this way - The Walking Dead got it right.
The test was conducted in a drive-through – we never got out of the car.
I had to navigate a maze of pylons I haven’t seen since taking my driving test at the age of 16. It put all my driving skills to the test, and I’m glad to report I only ran over 2 pylons and one dude’s foot in a Hazmat suit. (I might be exaggerating a little bit here – but hey, I’m a fiction writer that’s what we do.)
Finally we made it to Medical Bay 2 to conduct the dreaded Test.
The Test, for those interested, involves sticking in a 9-inch Q-tip down my son’s throat and up his nose (if he develops any weird nose fetishes when he gets older, we will know where that started). Again – not bashing the health system here. They were incredible. Polite, efficient, professional and absolutely confidence inspiring. It was an incredible operation to witness.
But a 9-inch Q-tip? What the hell kind of medieval torture device is that?
My son took it like a champ. No tears, just a morbid fascination with a device that he’s only ever seen going into his father’s ear.
The results came in later that week – negative. So, 9-inch cotton swaps aside, good news.
All this to say – it really reminded me of what’s important. There is no doubt that we are living in incredibly strange and trying times, where the simple act of going to the doctor, something we previously took for granted, has a whole new layer of ‘WTF’ on it.
It was a stressful few days, but I am grateful. Grateful that we have the technology to make things better. Grateful for my family. Grateful that all in all these are just minor inconveniences - a blimp in unusual times.
(I’m also grateful that I have a whole bunch of fodder for my next book – apocalyptic plague anyone?)
I hope everyone is staying safe. There is no doubt that living through ‘Love in the Time of Covid’ is one of the strangest episodes of the Twilight Zone ever.
Here’s a picture of watermelon to brighten your day.
Author Notes Michael Anderle
August 15, 2020
Here I am thousands of miles away from Ramy (he lives in Edinburgh, Scotland, and I live in Henderson (right outside of Las Vegas) Nevada.) Yet, both of us have a similar concern about what is going on outside our doors and to people we love and care about.
And many we don't know, but we still care.
I'm fifty-two, but I feel like I'm just past forty. It's peculiar because I don't feel that much older mentally but every morning, I seem to be aging quickly.
(Editor's note: It gets worse from here. You'll stay in your forties in your head and wonder why the heck you're so tired. I know this.)
A reason might be I am having to unpack, build furniture, walk on stone floors or ceramic-made-to-look-like-wood floors and believe it or not that affects one's bones.
Wall to wall carpet isn't a bad thing. Well, not a bad thing for walking in bare feet or socks, not so great for allergies.
I'm napping after lunch. I'm waking up WAY too early in the morning. I'm sitting at my desk, sometimes, watching the grass grow.
Sure, it could be old(er) age setting in, but I refuse to believe it. I'm not going down without a fight, or at least an effort to call it something else and make it stick.
I don't have COVID, but perhaps my immune system is fighting a dark scourge trying to take over humanity and produce brain-eating zombies. Unfortunately, the sheer amazeballs abilities my body possesses (heretofore unknown) are fighting—and winning—the battle with the scourge.
However, it's causing me to wake early, want a nap after lunch, and occasionally go into a netherverse with my thoughts (also called watching the grass grow), allowing the energy to fight an ongoing internal battle as I take my physical being back inch-by-inch.
Sure …that's it. That's believable, right?
What do you mean, no?! You gave Ramy a pass for his driving comment, so I should totally get a zombie apocalypse over a getting older pass.
ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN!
Consider this the epilogue. I just looked at the temperature outside here in Henderson, and it's @#@#%!#%!#~#TY!! Hot.
I'm not sure I wasn't hallucinating from the heat, but I just noticed two red guys in bodysuits saying they are going to stay out of my backyard because, and I quote, "It’s hotter than hell here. Let’s go back downstairs!”
(Editor’s note: Must be friends of Pandora’s.)
Damn, folks, I don’t care who you are, that’s hot.
Ad Aeternitatem,
Michael Anderle
To Hell
Dark Gate Angels Book Nine
Chapter One
New York had always been a city in flux. There was something magical about the way it had shifted throughout the decades. The city never remained the same, always growing in one way or another.
This was the first time it had ever been literally magical, though.
The streets and buses were as crowded as usual, but the character of them had changed. Humans, elves, gnomes, and dwarves walked side by side, many of them on their way to work, the rest making the rounds as tourists.
Abby had only been in the city for a night, and she was amazed at what she'd seen. Most of it had been from her hotel window because Anabelle wanted to continue with mission prep until Sarah arrived.
Still, there was much to see through the window—so many sights to behold.
The universe had changed since the Dark Gate Angels defeated the Dark One, and this world was nothing like it had been before.
She looked down at her hand and slightly flexed her fingers. Nanobots came out of her pores and covered her hand with metallic black armor. Her finger stretched to a fine point, which she used to scratch her head.
Anabelle burst into the hotel room. She was full of energy, and her makeup was fiercely done. You would have assumed she was about to walk the runway; if it wasn’t for her sharply pointed ears, anyone would assume she was a human supermodel.
When Abby had first met Anabelle, the elf had worn her hair so it covered her ears. Now, Anabelle kept the sharp tips of her ears as visible as possible.
Terra was behind the elf, carrying a few bags in her lean, muscular arms. The warrior wore a bright, toothy smile and sported a cleanly shaven head, even though the war was over. She said she liked not having to fuss over it in the morning.
Looking at the two side by side, Abby never would have guessed these two women would have become her best friends. Nor would she have thought that after defeating an interdimensional being a year ago, they'd have spent the last few months hunting down black market tech left over from the war.
Life was full of surprises.
Terra spilled the contents of the bags on the desk in the room. "Dude, you would not believe the crap you can find down in the dining hall! All-you-can-eat buffet with gnome, goblin, and orc foods."
She pulled out a leg of orcish mutton and handed it to Abby. "If Cire got his hands on this, he would freak. They even have Three-Tiered Wood-Elf Cake."
Anabelle jumped onto the bed as she flipped on the television. "Nah, tried it. More like Three-Tiered Crap than cake.” Anabelle contorted her face in disgust.
"Give them some slack, they're probably all human cooks. Most of us don't have your distinguished four-hundred-year-old palate."
Anabelle glared at Terra, who was smirking behind her mutton. "I am not four hundred years old," the elf fired back.
"Whatever, sis. I only know you're ancient and picky."
Abby closed the window’s blinds and came over to the bed to look at the spoils from Anabelle’s and Terra's kitchen raid. "Did they have any ubjul?"
When Abby had first started working with the DGA in the technology department, her coworker, a fastidious goblin, had introduced her to his race’s breakfast foods. They had left a lasting impression on Abby, and she found herself craving them nearly as much as her mother's cooking.
Ter
ra rifled around in the plastic bag and pulled out a container filled with a slushy green meat stew. "This stuff, right?"
Abby snatched the container and popped it open, and the room filled with a musky aroma. "Yes! Thank you!"
A serious silence fell as the three of them tore into the bounty, trading containers and hunks of meats and vegetables with unpronounceable names.
Unpronounceable for a human, at least.
Finally, Abby, who was thoroughly stuffed, laid back on the bed and belched. "Wait, we should have saved some for Sarah."
Anabelle picked up a second bag. "Don't worry, I made sure to get one Terra didn't know about."
Terra, who was busy sucking down a tentacled dish, snorted loudly. "Psh, I would have found it eventually." She pointed at her nose. "This thing is all-powerful."
The door opened, and a human with deep-red hair poked her head in. Sarah. She was the only one of the four who wore the DGA uniform, hers being altered to be sleeker and black with an insignia that disappeared on command.
Abby wasn't as close to Sarah as she was to Terra and Anabelle, but that was purely circumstantial. Sarah rarely had the time to go on missions with the rest of the DGA.
Today was supposed to be a treat.
"What the hell are you guys doing eating?" Sarah asked, "I specifically said for you not to. That was the only criteria I gave in the mission brief. Don't eat. This is a mission best done on an empty stomach."
Terra belched again as she rolled over on the bed. "I don’t do anything on an empty stomach." She tossed Sarah a gnomish cookie.
Sarah bit into the cookie, which crackled and shot out little sparks of electricity as she chewed. "Whatever. We better get a move on. Anyone have any questions?"
Terra sat up as she rubbed her stomach. "No. This mission sounds like it'll be as boring as the last one."
Abby stood up, went over to her luggage, and started rummaging around. "Not everything can be as exciting as breaking into the Netherverse and waging an all-out war with the Dark One. We have to at least try to adjust to the new normal. Or did you want to go back to what you used to do?"
Terra scrunched her face in thought. "Hm, that’s a really good question. What did I used to do?"
Abby pulled out what she was looking for: three brand-new HUDS. "We made these for you guys. Figured shiny new toys might make things a little more fun this time. These bad boys have a few upgrades.”
Terra leaped off the bed as the scientist threw her one of the HUDs. Before she slipped it on, she eyed Abby suspiciously. "You didn't fill this with nanobots or any of the other weird crap you’re into, did you? Not that I don’t trust you, but I wouldn’t put it past you to try and add us to your growing army of mindless robot drones."
Abby laughed as she handed HUDs to Sarah and Anabelle. "No, we aren't trying to assimilate you. Now, Martin and the AI consciousness?" Abby shrugged.
Terra's HUD turned on and projected an image of Martin, Abby's AI, who took his preferred shape of a paper clip with huge eyes. "Nope, humans. When I start my empire, it's going to be robots from the ground up. That's where everyone always screws up. The Borg? Too many human bodies. The Daleks? Now, those guys know how to kill all humans, isn’t that right, my sweet AI consciousness?"
Then he popped out, no doubt laughing with the other AI consciousness that also existed in the recesses of Abby’s being.
Martin and the consciousness had started to do something like dating. Abby tried not to think about it too much. It was strange enough that she talked in the second person plural. Obsessing about a technological tryst in her head was a little too weird.
Sarah slipped on her wrist HUD and looked it over. "Anything we should know about it?"
Abby stared out the window, watching the people beneath her go about their business. "Nope. They should work better."
"Well, if that's it. Wait, Anabelle, you like doing that whole thing, right?"
Anabelle blushed as she smiled. "Not really. It's just a thing. You can go ahead and do it."
"No, no, I insist. Go for it."
“Fine.” Anabelle stood, clenching her fist. "All right, Angels. Let's go fuck someone up!"
The four of them arrived at Little Tito's in formal attire.
Terra had made a huge deal about not having enough time to pick out a decent dress, but Anabelle had vetoed her appeal to go shopping and put the mission off for another day.
"You don't even like shopping," the elf had argued.
"I do like New York, and I'd like to see some of it," Terra had retorted.
In the end, they’d come to a compromise. After the mission, they would take a couple of days off to have a real vacation and see what New York had to offer.
Until then, there was a mission to take care of.
The maître d’ at the restaurant quickly seated the DGA. Terra instantly grabbed her menu and started looking through it. "You guys, you know we're going to look very suspicious unless you at least pretend you're at a restaurant."
Abby groaned, still stuffed from the hotel. Still, Terra was right. They were on a mission and needed to blend in. She picked up her menu, which offered the general run of Italian fare alongside a modest list of elvish dishes. It had only been a few months since the Realm Integration guidelines had passed, but New York had wasted no time adapting.
The restaurant was full of different species from the Nine Realms. Elves, dwarves, and gnomes were seated with humans, talking and joking. There was even a table of orcs dressed in tuxedos eating with forks and knives, which was very different from the typical orc table manners of gorging and fighting.
Abby reflected that it had only been a few months ago when humanity didn't believe magic was real.
Anabelle put down her menu. "I still find it hard to believe this place has a decent bottle of Ehue Spirits, but hey, it’s on the menu, so I might as well give it a try." She called the server over and pointed at the bottle.
Sarah, who was peering over her shoulder, turned back around. "For all the illusion of smoothness, you'd be amazed at how much work is going into this."
Terra nodded in agreement. "That's putting it mildly. Things are a fucking mess on the orc world with all this red tape. Can you believe they had me and Cire do forty extra pages of immigration paperwork that the elvish ambassadors didn’t have to?"
Another server came by to see if they were ready to order, which they weren’t, so he left. "Well, people are afraid of orcs."
"Yeah, I know, and it's—"
"Fucked up. But you and Cire are putting in the work to change that. You can't expect humans to suddenly be comfortable with their whole world changing."
The first server returned and poured them each a glass of wine. "I wish we could handle it like we do back home. One ring. Two axes. "
Anabelle stared blankly at Terra. "You have to acknowledge the irony of what you just said."
Abby was happy to be sitting with the DGA. She never got tired of hearing Anabelle and Terra bicker. It reminded her of being back home, when her siblings would get into it.
Anabelle and Terra behaved like any normal family would.
Sarah stood up abruptly. "Okay, my contact says it’s go time."
Anabelle stared down at her glass as she swirled her wine gently. "Really? Our drinks just got here."
Abby dragged Anabelle along as she followed Sarah, who was weaving her way through tables and customers toward the back of the restaurant. "Just down it. That’s what I did."
Anabelle's eyes widened. "You’re still under—"
"The nanobots process everything. We don't get even a little bit buzzed, but it does taste pretty good."
Sarah beckoned for them to follow as she held open the door to the eerily abandoned kitchen. They walked in, and Terra snatched a sausage off a cutting board before stopping in front of what looked like a large walk-in freezer with a security keypad.
"A lot of security for something that keeps things cold," Terra said. "Don't tell me i
t's a portal to another dimension."
Sarah typed a code into the security pad and opened the door. "Nope. Just leads to a secret underground base."
Terra poked her head in and then smiled at Abby. "Okay, this might be fun."
Chapter Two
Sarah shut the freezer door tightly behind them as she turned on her flashlight, illuminating a long staircase that led into darkness.
Abby was curious about what they were going to find. Over the last few months, the DGA had been working much more mundane cases.
As it turned out, all of the races had different systems set up for policing themselves.
Humans were the only ones who had to play catch-up, so for now, there were a lot of odd jobs.
Abby's eyes flashed bright white, converting to flashlights to light their path. "Who or what are we expecting to see down here? The debriefing notes were a little confusing."
Anabelle scoffed. "That's because Blackwell is trying out a new encrypted messaging system. Makes everything a riddle. I hate it. Also, please don't do that with your eyes. You look like a monster from an elven horror movie."
Terra raised her arms, moaning as she shuffled forward. "It is I, the Flatwoods Monster, and I have come to...uh, does anyone know what that guy does?"
Abby's eyes flicked to night vision. "Never seen it."
"Monsters and movies aside, I think we’d best focus on the mission," Sarah interrupted. "And to answer your question, this is a mob takedown. We got a tip-off that this particular family has been buying magical weapons. They also might be building a bomb, so try not to blow anything up."
"Boring!" Terra complained.
The path straightened out and led to what looked like an empty warehouse. "Could be an illusion spell," Abby muttered as she cycled through the different types of vision her nanobots offered: night, heat, gamma, magic.
Anabelle flashed fire in her palm. "You know, we need to get someone who can do real magic on the team. That was a massive oversight. Or, maybe our resident genius could figure out how to detect—like this?"
