Free ASIM_issue_54 by ed. Simon Petrie Page B

you’re well within your rights to contest her will through the courts—but think of the publicity it will generate.”
    “That could well go against us,” Robbie supplied, perhaps picturing the global news headlines once the word got out.
    “Whereas, if you were agreeable, I could go on to complete Eliza’s latest novel … perhaps even write several more.”
    Powell examined the paper in his hands again. “We can’t keep her death from her public.”
    “Nor should we. But it wouldn’t be anything unusual to find early drafts of unfinished works when clearing up her estate, would it?”
    Powell looked stunned, but HG knew he had won. He’d live on because of Eliza.
    And he’d keep her memory alive.

Going Fourth
    …Kent Purvis
    Death was out.
    The news was everywhere.
    “It’s very simple,” said War, nodding to the reporter’s sensible question, picking an invisible speck from his suit. “Our former colleague did not integrate. We believed he set himself apart from, above us, if you like, and while that point could be argued, the intention, the clear intention, from the outset was that we were to function as an integrated whole. A unit. Ultimately, relations have broken down.”
    “Bollocks,” railed Pestilence to a less sensible question. “Creative driving force? Give me a fucking break mate. You can’t get less creative than just death, can you? What’s that mean? I mean, what am I? I’m haemorrhaging your own organs out your arse and driving into a wall because you’re distracted with trying to scrape invisible badgers off your nads, and everything in between. Isn’t it? That’s me,” he said, knocking over his water in emphasis. “So next time you think of death , friend, work out what you are thinking about. Chances are, right, chances are, it’s me. Or, one of the others,” he added, not exactly smoothly, but certainly with the intention of staying on message. Further comments regarding his former colleague’s manner, taste in furnishings, and inability to stay the same sex from moment to moment were excluded from broadcast.
    “Hh,” said Famine at a doorstop. She was the least public member of the Three, but it was mutual, cameras seemed to shy away from her as much as the reverse, she was fine in small doses but you just couldn’t look at her for too long. “No, service will not be interrupted. We’re professionals. We are all professionals.”
    Death did not make herself available for comment, other than a statement—given its length, more of an epitaph, said the wits—to the effect that he appreciated the public support immensely over the time of his membership of the group, that while the ultimate cause for the break was internal friction there were no hard feelings, and while she was not going to retire, neither would he be pursuing any solo projects for the foreseeable future.
     
    * * *
     
    So there was a vacancy, and the vacancy required filling. Even Pestilence didn’t suggest otherwise and he was known for suggesting things. As is traditional, there was a brief period of determinedly ill-informed speculation. Betting agencies were giving good odds on the franchise expanding, rather than shrinking, to meet the needs of the—let’s be fair, much evolved—market. Columns were written about rebranding, and how the seven Buddhist evils that were said to block enlightenment carried an inclusive humanist message while still retaining the religious flavour that the public expected.
    As always, everyone said it was obvious in retrospect.
    Go Fourth would be screened for one season, thirteen weeks, in the northern hemisphere winter season. Daily screening, one hundred contenders, frequent eliminations, hopefuls to be scrutinised via a series of challenges and performances, leading to the selection of the winner in a three hour special. Tenders for merchandise were released concurrently. 1 It was a unique pitch for a program, in that it was released to all multinational