Free Emperor of Gondwanaland by Paul di Filippo Page A

next four days. Big industry conference in Boston. With a little detour to Foxwoods Casino on either side. But that’s just between you and me.”
    Kicklighter was up-front about his addiction, at least with his subordinates, and claimed that he was now cured to the point where he could indulge himself recreationally, like any casual bettor.
    “I’m putting you in charge while I’m gone. I know it’s a lot of responsibility, but I think you’re up to it. This is a crucial week, and I’m counting on you to produce an issue we can all be proud of.”
    There were three assistant editors at PharmaNotes , so this advancement was not insignificant. But Mutt cringed at the temporary promotion. He just wanted to stay in his little miserable niche and not have anybody notice him. Yet what could he do? Deny the assignment? Wasn’t such an honor the kind of thing he was supposed to be shooting for, next step up the ladder and all that shit? Cody would’ve killed for such a nomination.
    “Uh, fine, Dan. Thank you. I’ll do my best.”
    “That’s what I’m counting on. Here, take this list of targets you need to hit before Monday. It’s broken down into ten-minute activity blocks. Say, have you heard the odds on the Knicks game this weekend?”
    Back in his cube, Mutt threw down the heavy sheaf of paper with disgust. He just knew he’d have to work through the weekend.
    Before he had gotten through the tasks associated with the first ten-minute block, Cody appeared.
    “So, all your ass-kissing finally paid off. Well, I want you to know that you haven’t fooled everyone here. Not by a long shot.”
    Before Mutt could protest his lack of ambition, Cody was gone. Her angry strut conjured up images of pole-dancing in Mutt’s traitorous imagination.
    A short time later, Melba sauntered in and poised one haunch on the corner of Mutt’s desk.
    “Hey, big guy, got any plans for Friday night?”
    “Yeah. Thanks to Kicklighter, I’ll be ruining my eyesight right here at my desk.”
    Melba did not seem put off by Mutt’s sour brusqueness. “Well, that’s too bad. But I’m sure there’ll be some other night we can, ah, hook up.”
    Once Melba left, Mutt tried to resume work. But he just couldn’t focus.
    So he brought up the Gondwanaland page.
    Who was going to tell him he couldn’t? Kicklighter was probably already out the office and halfway to the roulette wheels.
    Below the spinning foreign globe was a block of text followed by some hot-button links: imperial lineage, customs, natural history, political history, art, forums, and so forth. Mutt began to read the main text.
     
    For the past ten thousand years of recorded history, Gondwanaland’s imperial plurocracy has ensured the material well-being as well as the physical, spiritual, and intellectual freedom of its citizens. Since the immemorial era of Fergasse I, when the walled communities of the Only Land—prominentia Lyskander, Port Shallow, Vybergum, and Turnbuckle—emerged from the state of siege imposed by the roving packs of scalewargs and amphidonts, banding together into a network of trade and discourse, right up until the current reign of Golusty IV, the ascent of the united peoples of Gondwanaland has been unimpeded by war or dissent, despite a profusion of beliefs, creeds, philosophical paradigms, and social arrangements. A steady accumulation of scientific knowledge from the perspicacious and diligent researchers at our many technotoria, combined with the practical entrepreneurship of the ingeniator class, has led to a mastery of the forces of nature, resulting in such now-essential inventions as the strato-carriage, storm-dispeller, object-box, and meta-palp.
The grateful citizens of Gondwanaland can assume— with a surety they feel when they contemplate the regular rising of the Innermost Moon—that the future will only continue this happy progression.
     
    Fascinated, Mutt continued to scan the introductory text on the main page, before beginning