Free Three Days in April by Edward Ashton Page A
Authors: Edward Ashton
Anders.
âHey,â he says. âWhy donât you check in with your friends, and see whatâs really going on?â
Fine. I pop open another chat frame.
Sir Munchalot:
Angry Irish Inch:
Sir Munchalot:
Angry Irish Inch:
Argyle Dragon:
Argyle Dragon:
Angry Irish Inch:
Fenrir:
Hayley 9000:
Drew P. Wiener:
Argyle Dragon:
I blink the frame closed again. Theyâve clearly got nothing. I sit up and look around. Terry and Anders are sitting close together. His hands are in his lap, and sheâs leaning her head against his shoulder. The wallscreen is muted. The view is still cycling between static shots of corpses, overhead shots of corpses, and spysat shots of corpses.
âNothing new,â I say. âExcept that one of my peeps has NatSec crawling up his ass, I mean.â
Neither of them even glances at me. I kick the footrest down and stand.
âIâm gonna get a drink. Either of you want anything?â
Terry closes her eyes. Anders looks at me like Iâm something he scraped off the bottom of his shoe.
âUm . . . I guess not,â I say finally, then turn and walk out to the kitchen.
The screen over the stove comes alive when I open the fridge door. I pull out a can of BrainBump, give it a quick shake, and pop the top. I donât usually drink this stuff straight, but I decide to make an exception under the circumstances. I down it in one long, sweet, chocolatey pull while a pretty blonde caster from Washington explains that while nobody wants to do what theyâre going to do, itâs simply a matter of national survival.
âHouse,â I say. âCan you find me a feed thatâs a little less moronic?â
The screen switches over to SpaceLab .
âOoooh, baby. You do know what I like.â
Iâve seen this episode before, of course, but itâs a classic. Science Officer Scott is traveling back to the station by shuttlecraft when he runs into a temporal anomalyâÂjust as heâs trying to fart in his spacesuit, loses control, and winds up sharting instead. The anomaly throws him back in time by thirty seconds, and heâs forced to relive the sharting over and over until he realizes whatâs happening and finds a way to break the temporal cycle. In this case, breaking the temporal cycle requires squeezing the gas all the way up his digestive system and belching it out instead. Iâm not one hundred percent clear on the physics behind this, but the BrainBump nanos are stimulating my giggle centers, and by the end of the episode Iâm laughing out loud.
At least until Anders grabs my head in one giant spider hand, tilts it back until I feel my neck crack, and slams me to the floor.
Iâm about to say something, maybe ask him what the hell he thinks heâs doing, when I get a look at his face and abruptly shut my mouth. Just then thereâs a flash outside the window, like catching a reflection of the sun off the windshield of a passing car. He kicks me once in the ass, and then walks away. I lie there on the floor for a minute or so, wondering what just happened. Iâm just getting to my feet when a boom like distant thunder rattles
âHey,â he says. âWhy donât you check in with your friends, and see whatâs really going on?â
Fine. I pop open another chat frame.
Sir Munchalot:
Angry Irish Inch:
Sir Munchalot:
Angry Irish Inch:
Argyle Dragon:
Argyle Dragon:
Angry Irish Inch:
Fenrir:
Hayley 9000:
Drew P. Wiener:
Argyle Dragon:
I blink the frame closed again. Theyâve clearly got nothing. I sit up and look around. Terry and Anders are sitting close together. His hands are in his lap, and sheâs leaning her head against his shoulder. The wallscreen is muted. The view is still cycling between static shots of corpses, overhead shots of corpses, and spysat shots of corpses.
âNothing new,â I say. âExcept that one of my peeps has NatSec crawling up his ass, I mean.â
Neither of them even glances at me. I kick the footrest down and stand.
âIâm gonna get a drink. Either of you want anything?â
Terry closes her eyes. Anders looks at me like Iâm something he scraped off the bottom of his shoe.
âUm . . . I guess not,â I say finally, then turn and walk out to the kitchen.
The screen over the stove comes alive when I open the fridge door. I pull out a can of BrainBump, give it a quick shake, and pop the top. I donât usually drink this stuff straight, but I decide to make an exception under the circumstances. I down it in one long, sweet, chocolatey pull while a pretty blonde caster from Washington explains that while nobody wants to do what theyâre going to do, itâs simply a matter of national survival.
âHouse,â I say. âCan you find me a feed thatâs a little less moronic?â
The screen switches over to SpaceLab .
âOoooh, baby. You do know what I like.â
Iâve seen this episode before, of course, but itâs a classic. Science Officer Scott is traveling back to the station by shuttlecraft when he runs into a temporal anomalyâÂjust as heâs trying to fart in his spacesuit, loses control, and winds up sharting instead. The anomaly throws him back in time by thirty seconds, and heâs forced to relive the sharting over and over until he realizes whatâs happening and finds a way to break the temporal cycle. In this case, breaking the temporal cycle requires squeezing the gas all the way up his digestive system and belching it out instead. Iâm not one hundred percent clear on the physics behind this, but the BrainBump nanos are stimulating my giggle centers, and by the end of the episode Iâm laughing out loud.
At least until Anders grabs my head in one giant spider hand, tilts it back until I feel my neck crack, and slams me to the floor.
Iâm about to say something, maybe ask him what the hell he thinks heâs doing, when I get a look at his face and abruptly shut my mouth. Just then thereâs a flash outside the window, like catching a reflection of the sun off the windshield of a passing car. He kicks me once in the ass, and then walks away. I lie there on the floor for a minute or so, wondering what just happened. Iâm just getting to my feet when a boom like distant thunder rattles
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