Free Solomon's Sieve by Victoria Danann

costume of white toga and biker boots. The boots more thumped together than clicked.
    Heralda rolled her eyes. “Hurry up.”
    “Why is it again that you don’t ever run your own errands?” She turned a glare on him that included bared, clenched teeth. “Okay! I’m going!” he whined as the doors flew open to let him pass.
     
     
    Sol had spent a long time in the library. At first he’d found it amusing to walk around shouting, “Hello,” and then listen to the echo. But as much as he thought of himself as the antithesis of a people person, the solitude grew tedious after a stretch of time and he was ready to break up the boredom, even if the only way to do that was to listen to birds pretend to be birds.
    He was lying on his back on his grassy knoll watching the shimmer of aspen-like leaves in the trees above him, remembering the silky feel of Farnsworth’s hair and the way her eyes would get so bright when he kissed her the way a woman like her should be kissed – thoroughly. He wondered about how she’d felt when he’d left his body behind, if she’d taken it really hard. If she was doing all right. If she was still wearing his ring.
    He didn’t hear anyone approach and jumped a little when someone nearby cleared his throat. Sol raised his head and looked in the direction of the sound.
    There was a curious character standing about eight feet away wearing a goofy expression, a toga, biker boots, and a ridiculous laurel wreath on his head. Sol wouldn’t be mean enough to say the little guy was misshapen, but it did cross his mind that a few pushups and laps around the pasture could only do the figure good.
    Sol remained in a semi-reclining position, but propped himself up on his elbows. “I was here first,” he deadpanned.
    Huber giggled. “I know.”
    “Well? What do you want?”
    “I’ve been sent to ask a couple of questions.”
    “Did you bring snacks?”
    Huber giggled again. “You want snacks?”
    “No. Just thought I’d ask.”
    “Oh.”
    “You want to sit down?”
    “Okay.”
    Sol watched, fascinated, while Huber crossed his legs meditation-style in midair before floating down and hovering just inches above the grass.
    “Neat trick.”
    Huber looked momentarily confused, as if he hadn’t thought about the fact that everyone couldn’t defy gravity at will. His brow cleared when he realized what Sol meant. “Oh, yes. I have others.”
    “I’ll bet. How about raising the dead?”
    Huber waved his hand and said, “Sometimes,” offhandedly. “And speaking of that…”
    Huber stopped midsentence, seemingly preoccupied by other things.
    “Speaking of that…” Sol prompted.
    Huber’s unfocused eyes cleared and he brought his attention back to Sol as he reached up to straighten his laurel wreath, which hadn’t moved at all. “Let’s play a game of ‘What if?’”
    “Okay. What if I don’t want to play?”
    Huber pouted a little. “No fair. I get to ask the questions.”
    Sol made a little twirling gesture with his hand to indicate, “Go ahead.”
    “What if we sent you back?” That got Sol’s attention. He sat up. “You know we couldn’t send you back to your old body because it’s, you know, gone.”
    “Gone?” Intellectually Sol knew that made sense, but emotionally it felt like the bottom dropped out of the elevator. “Oh. I… guess that’s right.”
    “If we sent you back, we’d have to put you in a new body.” Sol’s mind was racing trying to figure out how to make that work. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. For now, all I want to know is if you think you could keep a highly unusual secret.”
    “Look. I work for a highly unusual secret organization in top level management. I’m not bragging. That’s just how it is. Now. My turn. How am I supposed to get back inside in a different body without telling them who I am?”
    Huber looked down and frowned. “That is a puzzle. Set that aside for the time being. Assume we could get around that part and get