The Smell of Lemons

Angst slid across the tile floor on her belly, keeping the uzis trained at the turnstile. She expected to see the beasts the moment she revealed herself, but there was no sign of activity anywhere. She rolled over to the bench when her momentum slowed down.

"Well," Dexter said. He was at the men's washroom door peering out. "Did they go?"

"I think so," Angst replied. She scanned the platform once more, sniffing the air as well. Their was no smell of lemons. "Maybe they can't stay in this realm for long."

Dexter stepped from the washroom, bat in hand peering around the platform as well.  "Mofo's don't know who they are dealing with.

The Wish List

"Got a cigarette?" Goner asked. 

"There's a bunch of them on the floor over there," Max pointed out to him. 

"Too lazy to move," Goner answered with a smile. 

Max sat down beside Goner, reached inside his shirt pocket and took out his pack. Goner opened it up and saw just one lone, bent cigarette in the case and took it. 

"Gotta a light?" Goner asked of Max. 

Max reached inside his pants pocket and took out a beat up zippo; it was old and worn and the images that were once engraved upon it were faded and scratched beyond recognition. 

Goner looked at the sacred relic in his hands before striking the flint. "I think I know what I am going to get you for Xmas." 

"Don't," Max said. "That's my mojo, you couldn't replace that with anything in the plex."

Future Present

"Mr. Cube?" the desk clerk said as he saw the thin, lanky man sign the guest registration card. 

"Yes?" 

"There's a package waiting for you here," the desk clerk said with surprise. 

"You sure it's for me?" Max asked as he signed for the package. He just got here and had decided to get a room at the first available place. 

"Yes, sir," the desk clerk replied. "A young girl came in three days ago and said that you would be signing in."

Max had told nobody of his plans and where he was going. He accepted the parcel and took it to his room.

Ode To A Special Blend...

The waitress refilled his cup and walked away to the next table, like an automaton doing a job. Not really caring, being robotic.

Max lit another cigarette and took a long pull from it. He was glad that this reality hadn't even heard of the anti-smoking movement yet. 

"Penny for your thoughts?" Maggie asked as she slid into the booth beside him. "You look like you could use some company at the moment." 

"Just thinking," he replied; his eyes seemed far and distant.  

"About something in particular or in general?" she asked, snuggling closer to him. 

"About the perfect cup of coffee," he said with a fond remembrance smile.

 

MORGANFOKKER SAYS THAT YOU ARE TRYING TOO HARD

Moments In Time, Seem Like Wine...

After working several hours in the biting cold it was time to see if this baby would kick. Max was cold and wanted desperatley to find a nice place to curl up and sleep, but he knew that was the wrong thing to do at this time. 

"You can do it baby, I have faith in you," he whispered to no one in particular. 

He pulled the rip chord and the engine coughed and sputtered like it was clearing a throat, and then it stopped. 

"Don't do this to me," he said a little louder. "Don't tease me. Work your magic, baby." 

He yanked the rip chord. Again a sputtering; the sound seemed like an eternity to Max. But he began to smile like a kid coming downstairs and discovering Santa had arrived when the motor turned into a sputtering cough and a very, very rough idle. There was hope.

* who is max cube?

version therapy

You Gonna Eat That?

Maggie fired blindly into the darkness; she didn't care if she hit anything or not. She just wanted them to know that she was still here and that she meant business. 

Angst was cursing to herself; the uzis were lying on the ground, empty and useless. She felt naked without them. She knew that she had spent too many bullets in the previous incursion. 

"This bites," she muttered. "How many bullets you got left?" 

"I'll save two just in case Max doesn't get us shifted," Maggie confessed. "They like their meat bruised and battered. And I'm going to make sure that what they get of me is just plain leathery jerky."

Panopticon

The cell phone rang.

Max put it to his ear, watched his vision blur. Watched a thousand screens blossom in the air around him, neon petals suspended, holographic lotus bloom, simulated samsara. Then a thousand signals streaming, mega-multi-meta-mashup. Like that trailer for the first Mass Effect, when all the distress calls start coming in at once.

"Max?" Somehow the sounds and visions were amplifying and interfering within his ajna chakra and his crypto-cortex implant to form the name, always a question.

It sounded like the Professor's voice. And that meant another mission.

Purgatides

The first thing they heard was the music playing. A mellow dance tune.

"Bingo," Max said.

"Are you sure this time?" inquired Angst. She doubled check the uzis to make sure they were ready if needed. 

"Positive," he answered. "They group in places like this." Max kicked open the door to the warehouse; smoke and the smell of burnt flesh assaulted his nostrils. He was right on the money with this one. The music was loud and actually danceable.

Angst turned away from the smell, the heat from the nightclub was overbearing as well.

"Purgatides," Max muttered. 

They stepped into the nightclub to see a huge mass of beings dancing about.

"Well now," Angst replied. It was an infectious song. "Isn't this just groovy."

"Stay focused. Their leader should be close by as well," Max said.

MORGANFOKKER SAYS THAT YOU WILL NEVER REALLY KNOW OR UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER

Maximum Effect

"Go for it," Maggie told Max. She sat across from him, her arms folded on the table, a look of angelic serenity on her face betraying no emotion whatsoever. She knew that he was wrestling with his thoughts on this one.

"You think I should?" Max asked her. He butted out a cigarette and reached for another.

"Look, opportunities like this only come once every few realities," she said with a smile. "You miss out on a chance like this and then you will be wondering for the rest of your life if you had done the right thing."

Max sat in the booth and glanced out the window; the wind had picked up a bit and was scattering debris about on the city street.

"It might have a butterfly effect though," he said.

"What's the sense of being a butterfly if you can't flap your wings," she told him.

The Comic Book

"Hey kiddo," Max said. He plopped down on the seat infront of Suki.

"Heya Maximum," Suki replied. She looked up from the comic book she was reading. 

"What ya doing?" Max asked, peering at the book. 

"Nothing at the moment," Suki replied. "Just reading."

"Getting cultured I see," Max intoned. "You digging the X-men?"

"Indeedios," she chirped. She gave him a wink and went back to her reading.

"Well, happy reading, let me know when you get up to the Apocalypse Redux series and then will have a serious chatfest," Max said as he got up and proceeded down the aisle. 

The train moving through the tunnels showing midnight in the otherwhens, otherwheres and otherlives.