Tag: fantasy

Trunk Stories

Coffee at the Crossroads

prompt:  Set your story in a coffee shop that’s just introduced a new line of autumnal drinks….
available at Reedsy

Nexus Coffee Bar sat in a place of pride in the middle of the Nexus. Situated at the crossing point between Earth and the outer planes; between Heaven and Hell. It sat at the crossroads of reality. As such, it was frequented by customers both Celestial and Infernal, not that one could tell the difference by looking. In fact, I blended right in, and I am neither.

Long ago, I discovered I could walk out of Hell uncontested. I never made it further than the Nexus before finding myself back again, though. Each trip I could spend more and more time there, as long as I didn’t let my mind go blank. It was on one of those trips that I realized the coffee bar was free, and I became a regular.

“Did you hear the latest A/D stats?” The voice that whispered in my ear with a warm puff belonged to Azreasha, or “Rae” as she preferred. Azraesha was an inveterate flirt, which I figured out on our first meeting. She was also an Infernal, although I only found that out after we’d talked a few dozen times.

“No, I didn’t. Interesting news?” I whispered back. I learned a long time ago to just go along with the conversation and not try to fake any sort of knowledge I didn’t have, like what an “A/D stat” was, or why I should care.

“She’s just excited because we’re slipping.” The voice whispered in my other ear, although with less breath, belonged to the Celestial, Lillian.

I turned around and leaned in close to the two, who stood with an arm around each other’s waist. “Why are we whispering?”

“I don’t know,” Azraesha whispered. There was an awkward moment between the three of us. I’m not sure who started it, but we fell into a fit of the giggles. An outside observer would never guess that the slim, pale, freckle-faced, pony-tailed redhead was an Infernal, the short, dun-skinned brunette with bright green eyes and a hint of pink in her cheeks was a Celestial, or that the dark brown-skinned woman with messy black curls was a human who had walked out of Hell.

“Should I pick up our order while you two find a table?” I asked.

“You’re such a dear,” Lillian said. “I’ll have a triple anger-brew today. I’m going to need the energy.”

“Just my usual, cutie.” Azraesha brushed her hand against my cheek. 

“Okay, a triple anger, a half-and-half love and lust, and a double peace for me. I’ll be right back.”

One of the unusual features of the Nexus Coffee Bar was the ordering system. Once one decided what they wanted it was started without requiring any other input. Except for times when it was super busy, it was enough to decide on entering what to order and head straight to the counter to pick it up. Our coffees were sitting in a carrier on the counter by the time I got there. Tucked between the cups was a flyer.

I found the ladies at a table in a back corner and joined them. Lillian looked at the flyer and said, “Ooh, fall tasting tomorrow. I’ll be here.” She held the flyer out. “Rae?”

Azraesha read it, a smile spreading across her face. “I love these things. I wonder if they’ll have any new flavors this time, or just the usual fall lineup. Either way, you know I’ll be here.” She passed the flyer to me. “What about you, Abby?”

“Hm, a coffee tasting? I’ve never been to one.” I smiled. “I think it might be fun.”

Lillian raised an eyebrow. “On that note, I think Rae is bursting to tell her news.”

Azraesha sat up straight, shoulders back. “The A/D rate for the last quarter, it’s… just insane! 6.4 percent ascension, which is about average, but,” her eyes widened, “descension was up from 0.3 percent to 2.4 percent!”

“Descension?” I asked. Ascension made sense to me — those who ascended, from Hell to Heaven. Did this mean it could work the other way, too?

“It’s incredibly rare… or at least it used to be,” Azraesha answered, “but sometimes souls travel from Heaven to Hell.”

“There’s been some sort of emotional sickness, a sort of memetic virus spreading there.” Lillian sighed. “We’re doing what we can to limit the spread, but it’s difficult.”

Azraesha hugged her. “Leelee, I’m here for you. You’ll get through this.”

Lillian leaned her head on Azraesha’s shoulder. “Thanks, Rae, but don’t call me Leelee.”

Lillian sat up and started in on her extra-strong coffee. “So, Abby, how much longer do you think it’ll be before you ascend?”

I was stunned. It didn’t occur to me that they might know I wasn’t one of them. “I, uh… what?”

Azraesha laughed. “Don’t be surprised. We knew you were a human all along.” She leaned in close. “You’ve already figured out that you can walk out of Hell.”

I nodded. “I can, but I keep popping back there. It’s annoying.”

Rae lifted my face with a gentle finger on my chin. “When you figure out what you’re holding on to, you’ll be out for good.”

“What I’m holding on to?” I searched her blue eyes for an answer but found none. “I just keep getting dragged back.”

Azraesha leaned forward, close to rubbing noses. “The only thing that can drag you anywhere is you.” She gave me quick kiss on the forehead. “We have to get to our jobs. See you here tomorrow!”

I wandered around the Nexus for a while, mulling over what Rae had said. According to her, something I’m holding on to is the reason I keep going back to Hell. To put it out of my mind I watched the crowds streaming through, trying to guess Celestial or Infernal. But from the way Rae and Lillian had just acted, any of them could be human as well. With that the game lost its luster and I found myself back in Hell.

It’s not like the stories. There’s no fire and brimstone, or demons with pitchforks, or anything even remotely sinister. Instead, it’s my life, but the only parts I can see are those where I made a mistake, wronged someone, or hurt someone. At first it was every single horrible moment. Over time I grew inured to most of them. Now, only one remained.

“Mom! Look, I don’t have time for this.” My exasperated sigh was exaggerated for effect. “I’m going to the mountains with some friends from work, we can talk about it when I get back.” My knuckles grew white as I gripped the cell and my mother droned on.

“Abby, I really feel like I need to see you, today.” Her voice shook. “I don’t feel… it just… something feels off, and I need you here.”

“Mom, I just spent the whole weekend with you last week, my friends want to see me now.” I rolled my eyes. “There’s nothing wrong, just watch your shows and I’ll stop by when we get back Sunday evening.”

“Abigail, please, I need to see you today.”

“Mother, I love you but you’re being selfish and more than a little of a pain in the ass. You’ll see me Sunday. Bye.” I ended the call before she could say any more.

I didn’t get to experience the trip again, as that was a good time. Sunday morning, we packed up and headed back to civilization. As we reached the pass and re-entered the connected world my phone blew up — missed calls, texts, voicemails. My friends dropped me at the hospital, and I left my bags with them.

My mother didn’t see me on Sunday. She’d had a stroke two hours after our call, fell into a coma, and never recovered. I held her hand and cried; begged for her forgiveness. She had reached out to me and I blew her off. More than anything, I hoped she knew that I loved her.

After I endured this never-changing loop several hundred times, I forced myself to turn around and walk. The Nexus was never more than a few steps away. No matter how long I spent in Hell, every time I entered the Nexus was the “next day” relative to the last time I’d been there.

Lillian and Azraesha were already seated and Lillian waved me over. “You’re just in time. They’re bringing the samples out now.”

The tables were set with small plates, scorecards and pencils, water glasses, still water and sparkling water, soda crackers, and pear slices. “What’s with the snacks?” I asked.

“These are for cleansing your palate between samples.” Azraesha placed a soda cracker and slice of pear on her plate and poured herself a glass of sparkling water. Lillian did the same, but with still water. I followed suit, and Azraesha filled my glass with sparkling water before I could decide between the two.

Wait staff brought out trays with five shot glasses on each, numbered. In the center of the table they placed five cards, face-down, numbered on the backs; the fronts held the names of the drinks. The score card listed the numbers and a place to enter a score, 0 – 10, for each one. There was room for comments on the back of the cards, but Lillian told me hardly anyone filled that part out.

We decided to go through them in order, starting at number one. Lillian and Azraesha decided we wouldn’t look at the names of any we hadn’t yet tried.

Rae sniffed the first. “They do this one every fall,” she said, “and for some reason there are a lot of folks hooked on it.”

It smelled spicy and rich. The taste was warm and complex, with a sharp tang and an earthy sweetness underneath. “It tastes a bit like cloves, nutmeg, cinnamon, and is that pumpkin?” I asked. As it went down, I felt a lurch in my stomach as if I were falling. “What is that?”

I turned over the card, but before I had a chance to read it Azraesha answered, “Fright; not my favorite — hate it.” She marked a dark 0 on the scorecard. Lillian, however, shivered once and beamed.

“I take it you like it?”

“It’s the best part of fall,” she said, marking a 10 on her scorecard.

I marked it a 3, but probably should have marked it lower. The next, I hoped, would be better.

After a small bite of cracker and pear, and a couple sips of water we moved on to number two. “Oh,” Lillian said after sniffing it. “If it’s what I think it is they haven’t done this one in a few years. I missed it.”

After her 10 on the first, I was hesitant to trust her recommendation. Still, that’s what I was here for, to try new things. It smelled a bit like moist dirt. I took a sip, and Azraesha and Lillian watched closely. “There’s a sweet but sour taste to it, kind of like a berry top-note.” After swallowing the rest I felt a mild case of the blues creeping up on me. I hesitated to turn the card over, but Lillian swooped in and did it.

“Yes! They brought Melancholy back!” She marked another 10 on her scorecard, while Azraesha and I both rated it a solid 6. She looked at our cards. “You two have no taste!”

“Says the woman who slams triple-angers,” Azraesha said.

We cleansed our palates and moved on the next on the list. “The rest of these are all brand new,” Azraesha said. We could see that on the scorecards, where next to each of the remaining numbers was a little blue stamp that said, “Brand NEW!” but we didn’t bother to point that out to her.

The next one was difficult to define. Every time I thought I had a grip on the smell, I lost it. “I — I’m not sure what this smells like, besides coffee.” Lillian and Azraesha both looked confused as they smelled it. “Well, down the hatch.”

“It tastes like citrus, or — no,” Azraesha said, “not citrus, more like, uh….”

“I’m not sure what it tastes like. It’s really subtle, almost insidious.” I looked at the empty shot glass. “I didn’t feel anything, though. Wait — maybe I did. I’m not sure.”

Frustrated I grabbed the name card and turned it over — Doubt. “Considering it does exactly what it says in the name I want to rate it high, but the flavor is just so-so.” After a bit of back-and-forth, we all rated it a 5 and got ready for the next round.

“It’s got a peaty smell,” Lillian said.

We all agreed and swallowed it down. “Dark,” Azraesha said.

“Almost too dark,” I said. “Almond notes.” The possibility that it was laced with cyanide popped into my head. My stomach tied itself in knots, my heart raced. Maybe drinking coffee designed for Celestials and Infernals was a bad idea for a human.

“I love it,” Azraesha said, and marked it 10 on her score card.

Lillian marked it a 6. “It’s all right, but I don’t think it agrees with Abby.”

Azraesha handed me a cracker and a slice of pear. “Here, take this.”

I did, and as my palate cleared the feeling went away. “Let me guess, Dread, right?”

Azraesha turned the card over. “Damn! She got it! I thought maybe it was loathing.”

I marked a 0 on that one and we took a short break before the last one. Finally, we all grabbed our last sample and took a sniff. Lillian’s nose wrinkled and Azraesha turned aside in disgust. To me, it smelled like… home.

“Well, we didn’t come this far to back out now,” Azraesha said. She placed another cracker and several slices of pear on her plate and refilled her water. She took a deep breath and said, “Let’s do this.”

Azraesha swallowed, gagged, chugged her sparkling water and stuffed a cracker in her mouth. Lillian frowned. “That’s the worst thing I’ve ever tasted,” she said.

“It’s warm, it tastes familiar, comfortable,” I said. “Maybe it’s an acquired taste, but for some reason it tastes normal to me.” I marked it a 10 while Azraesha and Lillian both marked it a 0. Azraesha turned the card over and nodded. When she didn’t say anything else, I looked at the card myself. Guilt. Her words returned, that I needed to figure out what I was holding on to. That was it.

“Azraesha, thank you.”

“For what, Abigail?” She was casually nibbling on the remaining pear slices.

“I know what keeps dragging me back.” I lifted the shot glass. “This.”

“That’s foul,” Lillian said. “You definitely need to let go of that.”

“I used to wish we were more like humans,” Azraesha said. “I won’t say I envied you, except when they do the Envy blend in the spring, but I thought it must be nice to be able to feel emotions just… whenever.”

“It’s a bad deal, though,” Lillian said. “Who wants to feel anger when you need to focus, or contentment when you need to fight?”

“Exactly.” Azraesha grabbed my hand and held it between her own. “And who would ever want to feel… that,” she said, nodding at the shot glass in my other hand. “I’d rather be run through with a spike.”

I felt the weight lift for the first time since my mother died. Tears began to pool in my eyes.

“Oh no,” Lillian said, “we made her sad.”

“No,” I said, “not sad. Just very happy right now.”

“But you’re crying.”

“Lillian,” Azraesha asked, “are you telling me you’ve never heard of happy tears?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard of it, I just thought it was a saying or something. I didn’t know it was real.”

I turned the shot glass upside down and slammed it down on the table. “Can I have a hug?”

Instead of answering they both moved around the table and held on to me. “I’ve let go of so many other things, I think it’s time to let this go, too.”

As we held on to each other I noticed that they both started tearing up. “Happy tears!” Lillian said, and she and Azraesha laughed together.

“But, how?” I asked. “I thought you couldn’t feel emotion without…” I nodded toward the empties on the table.

“That,” Azraesha said, “or if a human openly shares it with us. Thank you. This is the most precious gift ever.”

We held each other for what felt like hours, although it was likely only a minute or two. “You two probably need to get to work. Meanwhile, I think I’m ready to go home.”

They kissed me on opposite cheeks, then we untangled. The two of them hugged briefly and giggled, wiping their tears, before walking their separate ways.

I strolled around the Nexus, watching people, not trying to figure out who or what they were, but just… watching. I cleared my mind and let myself drift, and a door opened to my right. Beyond the door stood my mother, arms open, a warm smile on her face. I ascended.

Trunk Stories

Extensions

prompt:  Write a story involving a conversation that’s packed with subtext; the characters aren’t quite saying what they mean….
available at Reedsy

“The Librarian” wore a dour expression on her lined face. Her grey eyes glared above the half-moon glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. A blush of pink rose with her ire in her porcelain cheeks. “What do you mean, another extension?”

Samuel shifted nervously from one foot to the other, careful to look anywhere but into those piercing eyes. His short stature, thin frame, and smooth, dun skin belied his true age, but fixing his deep brown eyes to her gaze still made him feel like a child. “There’s… extenuating circumstances,” he offered.

“Still and again, eh?” The Librarian dropped a heavy tome with a loud a thud. “This makes what, fifteen?”

“Er,” Samuel knew that she was painfully aware of just how many it was. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you know why I’m called The Librarian?” she asked.

“Er, no ma’am.”

She removed her glasses, letting them hang around her neck on the thin, gold chain that linked the ear pieces. “Because I run this place like a library. We loan. We do not sell or give away permanently.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I trust this will be the last I hear of this?”

Samuel caught her gaze, and as much as he wanted to answer in the affirmative, feared the outcome if he did and was wrong. “I… hope so?”

“You hope so!?” The Librarian almost never raised her voice. When she did, as now, the object of her wrath could feel the trembling to their bones. “That copy has been out so long it’s been superseded, not once or twice, but at least a dozen times! It’s time to retire it, now.”

With an unexpected bravado Samuel asked, “Why? If it’s still good enough for…,” he regretted his words as soon as they were out.

“It’s not ‘still good enough.’ “ The mocking tone of her reply caught him off-guard. “That copy has been in circulation for so long it’s falling apart. Losing pages here and there, and who knows how many penciled-in edits, revisions and probably flat-out vandalism by now.”

“But…”

“No buts.” She waved over another of the assistants. “Angela, have you met Samuel?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Angela stood half a head taller than Samuel, her afro extending that to a full head. Samuel didn’t need to look at her to see her eyes so dark the pupils didn’t show, her skin a warm, dark red-brown, her full lips that he often fantasized saying his name.

“Angela, I’d like you to take Samuel down to receiving.” The Librarian returned her glasses to her nose and began jotting notes on her calendar. “I know you could use some help down there, and it would be good for him to get a better understanding of how we do things here.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Angela flashed a wide, toothy smile at her. “I’ll get him straightened out in no time.”

“While I appreciate your enthusiasm,” The Librarian said, “don’t make any promises you’ll regret.”

Angela’s smile was replaced with a more serious, hard expression. “Right you are, ma’am. I’ll do my best to get him on board.”

As Samuel followed Angela to the elevator he tried to come up with some way to break the ice. Now that they’d be working together it was his best shot. They entered the elevator and Angela pushed a button for their destination.

When the doors closed Samuel hesitated for a moment, and was about to speak when Angela started instead. “Are you seriously that daft?”

“I… uh,” he stammered. “Wha-what do you mean?”

“Fifteen extensions!?” Angela laughed. “You’re the talk of the place. Sure, maybe one extension, on very rare occasions two, but fifteen! You are, without a doubt, either the bravest or the dumbest person here.”

“There are extenuating circumstances!” His voice came out rather more petulant than he would have liked.

“Look, kid,” Angela said. “You have to learn how to pick your battles. And this is one you won’t win.”

“I’m not a kid.” Samuel felt his fantasies about Angela disappear in a cloud of self-doubt. “I’m probably older than you.”

“Maybe, but you’re acting like a child.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Just because you like a borrower, or even believe that they have a very good reason to extend a loan, it’s not enough. It just isn’t done.”

“If I could just get her to hear me out, I’m sure she’d change her mind.”

“Who, The Librarian?”

“Of course, who else would I mean?”

“She doesn’t change her mind.” Angela shook her head, her afro bouncing side to side. “Never happens.”

The elevator stopped and they stepped into the receiving department; cold grey concrete slab floors and walls enclosing a utilitarian workspace. “Do you,” Samuel asked, “know her name?”

“The Librarian? Sure.” Angela guided him to her office.

“What is it?”

“I said I know her name, I didn’t say I’d tell you.” Angela stopped him and stared in eyes. “We. Do. Not. Speak. Her. Name.”

Samuel gulped. “I knew she was private, but….”

“Enough of that.” Angela led him into her office. On a bench to one side were stacks of folders, ranging from massive tomes-worth bundles of documents to those with no more than one or two sheets in them. She pulled one out of the middle of one of the stacks with a deft flick of her wrist. Samuel expected the stack to topple but it dropped into the missing space neatly with a thud. She handed it to Samuel.

He recognized the cover, even though he could see the differences right off. “This is the newest version, I guess?’”

“It is.” She opened the cover and leafed through a few pages. “Notice how clean, and notice that the language is more up-to-date.”

“Yes, but as a remote agent I have only one group to keep happy,” he said. “If they don’t want the changes, why should I push them on it?”

“I don’t know if you’re aware,” Angela said, “but I don’t spend all my time in receiving. I’m a field customer service agent as well. You’d know that if you came to the meetings. You’d also know that we are no longer called ‘remote agents.’”

“And how do your customers feel about change?”

“Some of them are all for it,” she said. “There are those who don’t like change, and don’t want it. I don’t give them a choice.” Angela walked to the far end of the office where a row of ten folders stood on a shelf. “These are their next ten. Or maybe nine,” she said, pulling one out part way. “This one is… problematic. They may reject it outright.”

“So you’ve already read them and vetted them?”

“As soon as they come in.”

Samuel raised the folder he held. “And if this one is problematic?”

“There’s another thirty or so copies in storage.” Angela stopped herself. “I meant to say versions, not copies. There are no exact copies of anything here.”

“Which makes it that much more important that my customers get the version they want.”

“It’s not about who wants what.” Angela crossed back to the bench and picked up one of the folders with only one document in it from the stack. The document inside had only a few lines on it. “Do you think anyone wants this?” She petted the cover and held it close to her heart. “Poor little thing. No, no one wants this, but it still needs to go out all the same.”

“What happens to the ones that don’t?”

“After a certain amount of time they find their way to excess shipping.” She leaned against her desk. “They go out to the lottery draw, and are passed out randomly. I’m afraid that’s the fate for this one.”

A panic hit Samuel. If those newer versions ended up in the lottery, anyone might get them. “Uh, I need to find the other versions of this, quick!”

Angela laughed. “The Librarian isn’t very good at explaining the why, just telling us the what. I knew you’d come around once you knew the whole story. That’s why the other versions are in the box by my desk.”

Samuel let out an audible sigh. “Thank you, Angela. But then, what happens when they’re returned? At the end of the loan?”

“That depends on their contents when they get here.” Angela shrugged. “Some are retired, placed in the private stacks upstairs. A few, if they’re really foul, are shredded and burned; but most are sent to recycling and returned to circulation.”

Samuel thought about that for a moment before speaking. “Well, she did say retired, not chucked in the furnace. I guess maybe it is time to get the old version back.” He added the newest version to the box and lifted it. “So, who is your customer group?”

“Roman Catholics.”

“Huh.” He looked at the row of folders on the shelf. “So that’s the next ten, or maybe only nine, popes, then?”

“Yep.” She nodded at the box he held. “And now it looks like the next thirty or so Dalai Lamas are in good hands as well.”

“Say, Angela, would you like to…”

She cut him off. “The Librarian does not allow any fraternization of Soul Repository employees. Not. At. All.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe I’ll see you around the break room sometime, eh?”

Angela smiled. “Maybe. I’ve got to get back to work now, and you need to go tell The Librarian you’ve learned the error of your ways.”

Trunk Stories

Meeting With The Higher Ups

prompt:  Write a story that involves a mystery — it doesn’t need to be crime-related, it should just include something that remains unexplained until the end….
available on Reedsy

I hate my job… no, not hate, but I certainly don’t like it any more. My job used to be my joy, and I would have happily done it without pay. Then I got too good at it, I guess. Got promoted a few times, and now… this.

There’s a meeting on my calendar with my boss, her boss, and someone else I can’t see in the BCC on the meeting invite. This afternoon. Hopefully they’ve finally figured out how unhappy I am and are ready to move me back to my old position. No, that would’ve just been Maia, my boss, telling me to pack up and move back downstairs.

When I started, I had no idea what was going on. It was all so new and exciting, and then I got my first assignments; little things, really. Oh, but I excelled at them! I loved designing and building the little things; things that most would never notice in a million years, but I did. Whether it was one of mine or not, I always noticed the little things. It’s the small touches that really complete a thing.

My position now, though, has me overseeing a whole world of stuff. I’m too wrapped up in the big things to take notice of the little things these days. Maybe that’s what it is. I’m going to get chewed out for the stuff the creep downstairs has been slipping into the code.

Since I’m not going to get any work done while worrying about the meeting I decide to look in on some of the little things my replacement, the creep downstairs, was building. I had warned against hiring him, but no-one listened. His newest creations make me sick. They exhibit a certain cruelty in their design, not to mention flaws that could bring the whole enterprise down.

I write up my concerns, along with examples, but before I can mail it to my boss I get an emergency notification. This is what my job is now, take care of the big stuff and forget about the little things. I delete the draft and log on to see what the emergency is.

It’s enough to push the mystery meeting to the back burner for now. There’s never a good time for a war, but this has to be the worst. On one side, one of my favorite teams, who is currently having problems caused by some of those cruel little things, and on the other the team led by the self-important, overbearing jerk who likes only three things: pretending nothing else exists, stealing from others, and most of all, he really loves himself.

Well, I’m not going to let this stand. If I’m careful about how I do it I can make sure the jerk gets his comeuppance, and possibly even help my favorites recover from the flaws the creep downstairs put in the system. I go into my creator-space and begin writing the code that will do this.

I have a long look at the resource allocations for both sides, and see what they each have and have not discovered. The jerk hasn’t discovered the iron in his territory… and now it’s basalt. It looks like his team is building a well. I tweak the layer the water is in, rendering it too alkaline to use.

Anyone who thinks we don’t change the playing field once it’s set is deluded. We make these kinds of changes all the time. Sometimes, like now, to help out a team we really like. Other times, also like now, to thwart a team we really don’t like. Usually, though, we just get bored or have a momentary inspiration to do something different. That’s why doing the small stuff is so fun. There’s always somewhere to build something new, something that’s never been seen.

Looking back at the resources of my favorites I see they’ve found the precious metals, but haven’t gone very deep yet. I extend and expand the main vein they’re about to hit into a bonanza. Even with that, though, they don’t stand a chance without outside help. Time to check their neighbors.

To one side, a reasonably strong neighbor with no precious metals. To the other, a neighbor with a huge army, and a need for more advanced agriculture. I send them messages, letting them know that the jerk is coming to take their lands. Not specifically disallowed, but not generally smiled on. I shrug and continue on with my quest to ruin the jerk.

I leave hints for my favorite team, telling them to trade with their bordering teams, make alliances, defeat the coming doom. I send a message to the team’s informer as well, pointing them to the hints. Not only allowed, but expected. On one border I add a small spring, and in the spring I add a new creation, one that can fix the flaw of the latest addition from the creep downstairs.

Now it’s time to sit back and see what happens over the next few turns. I watch with interest as a new leader takes over for my favorite team: the previous informer. She manages to turn trade deals into an alliance. That alliance beats back the jerk, whose entire team is taken out of play.

What happens next is a surprise. The alliance turns into a unified territory, and incorporates the empty lands that the jerk left behind. They are sailing on to more advanced technology, fueled by the massive cache of precious metals. Maybe I made it a little too large. No worry, they’re still my favorites and my inbox is filling with thanks from them.

When they figure out the fix in the spring it doesn’t take them long to recreate it for themselves. I’m pleased when their first impulse is to share it with every other team they meet. I guess there are times that this job can be enjoyable, too.

Oh, yeah. The meeting. My calendar is blinking at me, telling me it’s time to go. I think I’ll be okay with moving back downstairs, but I doubt that’s it. My last review was good, so I don’t think I’m getting the axe. Thinking about it isn’t helping, because nothing I can think of should have more than my boss and maybe HR involved.

My calendar is blinking red now, so I get up and head to the elevator to go to Maia’s office. The elevator plays muzak that’s been on repeat for about five or six years now. The trip to the next floor is too quick. Oh well, time to learn what this is all about.

Maia is standing outside her office waiting for me.

“By the way, Maia,” I say, “I’m a little concerned about the stuff that…”

“Don’t worry,” she cuts me off. “Erra’s doing a fine job, he just does it differently than you did.”

She opens the door and leads me in. There stands Maia, her boss Gaia, and seated at Maia’s desk is the big boss. Now I’m nervous. I close the door, unsure of what’s happening.

Maia says “Tacita, come, meet Tiamat.”

I shake her hand, surprised at her strength given how old and frail she looks. “Pleased to meet you, Ma’am.”

“Oh, the pleasure’s mine,” she says. “Nice work with the emergency call there.” Her smile is at once warm and mischievous.

“Oh, you… were watching?”

“Of course, dear, it’s what I do.” Tiamat winks at me and stands, not much taller than when she’s seated.

“I told you she was ready,” Maia says.

“Ready for what?” I ask.

The office grows brighter than I can stand for a moment as Tiamat shines, then returns to normal. “For your promotion!”

“Again!?” I shout. “I just started to enjoy…”

I’m cut off by Gaia and Maia glaring at me and Tiamat laughing. “Fire builds in silence, doesn’t it? Follow me, please.”

I follow her out of the office, Gaia tagging along. “Isn’t Maia coming?” I ask.

“Gaia’s your boss now, Maia’s your coworker.” Tiamat leads us down the hall to a door I didn’t know existed. “But you can visit her any time you like. Here’s your new office. I’m sure you’ll learn to find as much joy watching over a realm as you have a world.”

She closes the door and I flop down in my chair, plant my face on the desk, and cry.