The answer was sitting on the table to the left of a tape ruler. The rest of him was on scales all around the sterile white room. Amber Banes was diligently disassembling as much of the man as she could. 2 liters of blood were sitting on the ground in glass jars. With a plop, the kidneys were put aside to be inspected later for viability. Briefly she glanced at Aiden who was standing at the edge of the room trying to muster up some emotion for the proceedings. She turned back to the body, revealing the red highlights of her black bobbed hair.

“Well Granddad?”

“ Stop calling me that. I’m ten years younger than you.”

“No honey, you just lived ten years less than I did. The birthday still proves you’re my senior.”

“That’s fine. Is that Trevor Ashton?”

“Says so on the chip.”

“Trevor Ashton, awarded Hero of Earth in 2166?”

“As far as I know.”

If Aiden had his druthers, he’d be smoking and pacing up and down the ten mile compound. A troubling thought could always be beaten down with the proper medication. Sooner or later, he’d out pace it and find a rational, comforting answer. This was not to be as the fruit of Kentucky had died long ago and Aiden had work to do.

“ How does a man who survives impalement, plasma discharge and two painful divorces die?”

“A steel beam removes his head apparently.”

“So you’re saying that he’d be a poor recruit for an army?”

“ I would be if it was 4000 years ago. Now, we’ve got capabilities that… it’s magic. I got frozen a doctor, now I’m a shaman.”

The scalpel was put on a tray so that she could grab a pair of hedge clippers.

“ Why did you leave?”

“My arthritis got to the point that I couldn’t tie a knot: couldn’t work. Turns out all I needed was a cream.”

Plop. The heart was pretty big for a small man. Out of its element it was a rather unimpressive piece of meat. It might just save someone else’s life but that was potential. At that moment it was a bloody junction. The salvage mission continued onwards.

“Well Mr. Smith, do you need him or not? I really don’t want to remove his intestines if I don’t have too.”

“No, I kind of figured I’d get the whole package.”

“Wouldn’t be so picky myself. I’ve got sot some natural born killer heads back there.”

“I’ve got better prospects.”

“Do you need a new kidney?”

“Three’s sort of crowd.”

“Picky. Picky.”

Plop. The liver was now weighed. If you were one to subscribe to the idea that this was where the soul resides you might think Trevor had some serious evil inside him. Could very well be a symptom of the toilet wine.

“I was suppose to go somewhere else.”

“Senior moment?”

“I was told when you stop living you go somewhere.”

She stopped for a second. With her right hand she maneuvered to touch his shoulder but remembered the blood at the last possible moment.

“Do you dislike where you are?”

As if the patron saint of awkward moments, Ikay bust into the room with what looked like a tricorder and an insanely cheery smile.

“What’d you get me Amber?”

For a moment the two regarded Ikay like she had horns growing out of her bald head. Her cheerful disposition could be so irksome. Problem with that was, Ikay just wanted to save someone. Try as he might, Aiden couldn’t fault the kid for that.

Trevor Ashton died at the age of 60, 1.65 meters tall, 65 kilograms heavy. He had 155 confirmed kills and in his life he saved 20 men. In his death, he saved another 21.

Meeting her eyes sheepishly, she smiled and when she smiled the world seemed to light up despite the setting sun. My eyes are a dull gray that’s never been able to move a woman any further than a millimeter either way. There was nothing in my eyes worth a second glance. Her eyes were a deep blue. If I were to stare into her eyes deep enough, I imagine I could see waves and maybe just a little bit of the Ivory Coast.

She was sitting next to Sabrina Waller. Age had shrunk Sabrina 2 inches since I first met her. Her green eyes were slowly turning to milk from behind a pair of thick glasses. Her clothes were walking the tight rope between apathy and neglect, shown apparent by the two month old coffee stain still on her blouse. Sabrina was a friend to anyone and had been for all her 80 years but right then she was listening to Gershwin and removed from the world at large.

5 minutes from my stop and the red headed woman was still staring at me, growing a large toothy smile. From behind Sabrina’s thick braided hair she pulled what seemed to be a piece of red licorice. Dumbfounded, I stared as she retrieved more and more confectionery. Then she bit into the candy and pulled with her teeth until the whole meter long piece was ripped from Sabrina. With an impossible slurp, she sucked it in. I could have sworn I saw it wriggle, resist.

Sabrina fell to the floor and never got back up. Two days later, (if her daughter told me the truth) the doctor declared her dead. I thought of mentioning the redhead with the powerful mouth but I realized no one would believe me. I had been up for 72 hours and I think I’m the only one who saw her. Maybe that’s why I saw her; she’s something that’s always there but it takes a tired mind to see.

When I think of her picking the strands of all those innocent people, I shutter. I’m pretty sure I know what she is and quite frankly I do not appreciate the service she provides. It’s been 48 hours since I last slept and I’m riding every bus I can with the hopes of finding her again. She’s probably looking for me too as my health is not what you’d call good. I thought about just sitting in that comfy chair in my living room and waiting for her to come to me but I feel I must be proactive.

The pistol feels heavier in my bag than it did in my hand.

These type of wounds don’t tend to go away. In fact, most people keep the little biters with them as a sort of ipso facto memento of the scariest moment of there lives. However, Manyara was pretty sure that if she walked enough the thing would just leave. With each step she pressed herself harder towards the house where the ice cream lived and the shower was hot. The pain didn’t matter, she was sure if she could just make it…

Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot.

The house was getting closer with every step and the cookies and cream in the freezer began to seem like a good substitute for a shower. The bite was a nagging, grating thing that grew more tedious with every step. Switching gears, she decided that the best course of action was to lean on a brick wall in vague hope of eventual relief. A passerby noticed the hobbling woman and called 911 who picked her up 3 minutes and 5 feet later where she had collapsed due to leaking.

Two blocks to the north a man named Tom had missed and died because of it. Manyara did slightly better that night but the curve was not that impressive.

It’s okay to try it here, a game can always be reset. If you should not want to play the game, then perhaps you can play another. Elsewhere, resets are hard to come by and the alternatives are grim. Best to just stay where you are and dream.

No, this way was easier to get through. You never know when an inconvenient memory might change one’s mood and ruin even the sunniest of days. No, this way was better: 9-5 robot, 5-9 human being.

Beep

“Cash or credit?”

Beep

“Paper or plastic?”

Beep

“Would you like the whole till or just the denominations of a dollar and more?”

Beep

The adjustment chair was at home with all it’s knobs and lights. All those customizable settings that could give you so many specific emotions and yet Victoria used the thing to just turn hers off. It was so wasteful, in fact it occurred to her that having the thing on at all was pretty wasteful so she unplugged it. It’s actually a pretty good place to keep ones clothes for the next day.

“Rye, bitters, sweet vermouth. It’s a Manhattan.”

“No! A Manhattan is an open faced sandwich with gravy, mashed potatoes and roast beef.”

“That doesn’t sound like it could fit in a cocktail glass.”

“Well, I am use to it coming in a beer glass.”

“And your normal bartender just sort of squished it in there?”

“He used a blender and copious amounts of Dark Eyes Vodka.”

“That sounds utterly depressing.”

“ Not going to argue that but I’m a man on the go.”

“Look either way, I do not have a supply of gravy, roast beef and mashed potatoes.”

The dumpy man on the bar stool sat up and from his bag revealed a sealed ziplock and a jar.

“I assume you have bread, a blender and vodka.”

As the blender whirred, Bob the bartender remembered a time when what he learned in Mixology Ethics 101 still meant something. The ingredients soaked together into a brown, starchy, protein rich, mud. It poured quite smoothly into the beer glass. The burping noise was just air escaping the concoction but Bob was sure that sound was God dying.

“That will be $12.”

“That’s outrageous, I won’t pay it.”

“It’s a meal and a well drink.”

“I supplied most of it.”

“Strictly against the health codes wishes I might add. Anyways you employed my bartending services to make it.”

“Well, if I don’t get a combo deal I don’t see the point at all.”

“Actually $16, you never paid for the other Manhattan.”

With that the dumpy man ran away and never returned. At least Bob knew what he was having for lunch.

There’s some linens in that basket you dropped right? Okay, grab the bed sheet and just pull it over to you. Put it over the wound and keep pressure there. Now, there’s help coming, so hold on. Luckily for you, Mrs. Jefferson is the nosiest woman in the neighborhood and she heard glass shatter. She thought it was a domestic dispute, but that’s okay. She’s still being a good person at heart.

They do catch him. His name is Herman Muniz. The vicious little idiot tries to pawn our television. I wanted to kill him but it was too late, he was already in custody. Not that I would have been able to do anything to the punk. You were the stronger one of us and you can barely throw a softball. I’m just a sap. I’m sorry here I am bemoaning life without you and you’re still here. What’s wrong with me?

Don’t answer that. Now if you did like you did the last time when you died, you started to check the messages right before he jumped you with that knife. If I got this right the officer is coming to the door right now and things are about to move very fast. Try not to tell Alex about this, I, I mean he, won’t understand. Honestly, I just barely do. It’s unfair to unload on him just how crazy technology will get in the next few years.

I miss you Nancy, don’t let him miss you too.

All around the world, humanity is leaving and the grander the exit the better.

“I’m not questioning that first clause. I’m done being your straight man.”

“Hehe.”

“As long as your happy I’m happy.”

“See the joke is…”

“The joke is gay, that’s always the punchline with you.”

“That’s not true. Sometimes it’s penis.”

“Okay, but why do you always try for the most immature joke possible?”

“Because you laugh.”

“Yeah, but you can do better.”

“I can, but I know I can make you laugh this way.”

“Sometimes you have to risk bombing in order to get better at joking.”

“But why should I risk making you happy?”

“Maybe I want something different?”

“Are you saying you want to try men?”

“No.”

“Not even Cody Yuen?”

“That doesn’t count, he’s on my mancrush list and you know it. It’s fantasy.”

“Oh, just not me then?”

“No, I didn’t say that! I just…”

“…want something else.”

“something more serious. I guess.”

“And I’m to silly for that.”

“Stop breaking us up. I’ve loved you since Brownies. I loved you in college and there were way hotter girls there.”

“So why didn’t you marry one?”

“Because I want to marry you, you dumb dirl.”

“So, we’re not breaking up.”

“Nope.”

“I can continue making bad jokes and you can continue laughing at them?”

“Seems that way.”

“Okay. A family walks into a talent agency. It’s a father, mother, son…”

“Waiter!”