Life’s Weirder Than Fiction

Had to take a break yesterday. The brain went on strike. Still I managed to write thirteen hundred words, but I had to leave Jack in the middle of a battle, his saber poised to strike a really ugly alien. His arm must be getting tired by now.

It’s midmonth and I’m more than halfway there (for NaNo, anyway), but I want to pick the pace back up. Meantime, here’s another undedited excerpt:

I gaped. I’d assumed that I’d get a similar experience with Eve as with Phoenix. It looked like she was developing fast but more normally; I remembered Terry’s little Evie doing exactly what Eve was doing. Eve, Evie. Was it a coincidence I’d chosen such a similar name? They didn’t look the same at all. Evie was dark-haired and had been slender, even as a baby. Eve was light-haired and pudgy. Both of them, though, had beautiful eyes, even if Eve’s were weird-looking.

While I was being amazed, the case on the table had expanded. The two sides had revolved and lay flat. On the left side, a flat screen with a keyboard, on the other side, some kind of communications device that resembled what Neola was using. I felt a twinge thinking of Neola. I knew she was dead, along with my other self, and I knew she’d used me but I did miss her anyway. I missed her quirky mind, her sense of humour, her guts.

I looked for a switch to turn the screen on but couldn’t find one. More out of no knowing what to do than anything else, I touched the screen; it lit up without even a sputter. I hoped I didn’t have to give more blood to be able to operate it.

It was well and good to have equipment, but I had no idea what to do with it. The screen narrowed to a pinpoint, then lit up again. A gorgeous, bosomy blonde appeared. “Mr. Meter, I’m Jacqueline, your avatar.”

“Funny, Winston, very funny.”

Jacqueline smiled. “I’m here to help and guide you through the AGES database and to contact the people you might want to talk to. How can I help?”

Using the database was going to be easier than I thought. “Give me everything you have on a species called Phoenix.”

“One moment please.”

It was only one moment, and data blinked onto the screen. Jacqueline, reduced to a small window in the left corner, smiled. “Did you want me to read the data to you, Mr. Meter? I can also summarize the salient points.”

“I’ll read some first, see how’s that going for me. If it’s too difficult to understand, I’ll ask you to interpret.”

“Just say my name, and I’ll be there.”

Jacqueline blinked out. I began to read.

The more I read, the more appalled I was. The Phoenix species was not a natural species but a fabricated one. It took on the external appearance of the owner it was attached to but, internally, it stayed the same. I wondered how that would work for my alien friends the Thrittene, who were many and one at the same time.

Initially, the Phoenix had been bred as a pet, or a piece of interesting, renewable furniture. Their intelligence was very low, maybe that of a bird –hence the name Phoenix, that the humans who knew about them had given them—plus the fact that they did die and renew themselves every morning. The individuals didn’t die, they wore out. When that happened, they could be given a form of poison that stopped their renewal.

They had been originally fabricated on a small planet in Alpha Centauri –the closest galaxy to ours, I knew—but there were now several factories across other galaxies. There were two models: a twenty-four hour and a twelve-hour model, the longer-lasting model being more expensive, of course.

I wondered if whoever was doing this had given me two cheap models or one of each. Would Eve last a whole twenty-four hours, or would she evaporated in eight hours? I glanced at her. She’d fallen asleep, her face leaned against her little pudgy hand, her curls longer and darker. Her clothes seemed to be a lot tighter. Cute kid. My heart twinged. Damnit to hell.

Two relatively good days, although I would’ve liked to write a bit more yesterday, but in total for the two days I wrote over 5,600 words. Energy flagging yesterday morning, due to a nice Stone Crab legs dinner with a crisp white wine and great company.

Here’s another excerpt (non-edited):

“I have to call Winston again. Can you get those clothes for me?”

“Sure. I’ll be back.”

I gave Isabel the key to the apartment so she wouldn’t have to ring the bell, checked that the baby girl hadn’t crawled somewhere, then called Winston at home, since he wasn’t likely to be at work yet. I swore when I got his machine. “You know the routine. If it’s you, Jack, I sent you an email. Read it.”

Damn. Where’s the expert when you need one? I fired up my computer, got another cup of coffee and brought it to my desk. The baby gurgled. That stopped me. After the initial infant crying, Phoenix had made no sounds, except for the time when he jumped me when I stopped the music. I craned my neck. Fred sat in front of her, staring. The baby also sat, a broad smile on her face, her small pudgy arms moving up and down. Actually, she was kind of cute.
I heard the door open and close and a “It’s me.” I logged into my email and, sure enough, there was Winston’s message. Isabel appeared around the corner, a plastic bag in hand. She stopped in front of the baby.

“Come on, sweetie, let’s get some clothes on.” She picked up the girl –‘my, you’re getting heavy’—and went into the guest bedroom. Fred followed them. Definitely a ladies’ cat.

I swore again when I learned from Winston’s email that Charlie had needed help with the mission and AGES were sending him to assist. He had no idea when he’d be back. The second part was slightly more encouraging; he given me access to the AGES database. The appropriate equipment would be delivered in the morning. The doorbell rang just as I finished reading the message. This place was coming to resemble a train station. Either that or I was spending entirely too much time at home.

The peephole revealed a uniformed man from the brown delivery company. Had Winston timed it that way? If so, I was becoming entirely too predictable.

“Jack Meter?” the uniform said.

“That’s me.”

“I need ID.”

I dug my wallet from my coat behind the door, showed him my driver’s and PI licenses. Both had unflattering pictures of my face.

The man took a small metal box, slightly longer than my hand. He opened it. “I’ll need some blood for typing and DNA match.”

By that time, being the sharp PI I was, I deduced that this man was only disguised as a delivery man. He pointed to my left hand. When I raised it, he snapped the box closed on my index finger. Something zapped it. The pain was intense.

“Jesus,” I said. “You could’ve warned me.”

The man grinned. “Why? That’s the only fun part of this fucking boring job.”

He checked his watch. “You’re who you claim to be. He leaned down, picked up a hard-shelled suitcase and handed it to me. Agent Winston sends his regrets and wishes you luck.”

Isabel came out of the bedroom, a little girl in navy pants and red sweater walking beside her. She held Isabel’s hand and Fred trotted on her other side.

“Delivery from Winston,” I said. “She’s growing faster than Phoenix, I think.”

“Are you going to name her, as well?”

“You don’t seem to like the idea.”

“It seems ghoulish, somehow.”

“Maybe, but it’s easier to give her a name than to call her the kid or the woman.”

“I know. I need to go out, get some things done, like grocery shopping. Are you going to be all right?”

“As long as you come back in a couple of hours with some new clothes for her.”

“I will.”

Isabel led the girl to one of the living room chairs and placed her there, then she bent down and kissed the little girl’s head. “Bye, sweetie. I’ll be back soon.” Fred jumped on the chair and curled up against her, his eyes fixed on me as if he needed to keep watch.

I decided to call the little girl Eve, after the first woman. It suited her somehow. Uncomfortable with leaving her all alone in the living room, I brought Winston’s gift to the coffee table and sat on the couch. As soon as I touched the edges of the case, I felt something like an electric current in my fingers and the case snapped open.

It began to buzz and beep and whistle, to Eve’s great delight. She clapped and laughed. When she smiled, a dimple appeared on her right cheek. Her eyes changed from light blue to dark. Despite myself, I was charmed. I smiled back.

“Jack,” she said, and pointed at me. “Fred.” And she patted the cat lightly. “Isabel, bye-bye.”

Friday. End of week. Phew. The writing is becoming sluggish, but I refuse to type words just for the word count. I find, though, that the Nanowidget at the left that I move up with every post is a real motivator. If I don’t write at least my minimum word count, the line become red. Aaagh.

Here’s another excerpt (there are some passages snipped in between the excerpts, but you’re still at the beginning of the story, at chapter 4):

Another day, another baby. All my fears were confirmed. It was a girl. What was the feminine equivalent of Phoenix?

At first I didn’t know it was a girl, and I wasn’t about to check myself. Maybe if it had been my own kid, it would’ve been different. Maybe. But I decided to be a pig and let a woman take care of the diaper-changing, gender-checking chores.

It was only seven in the morning but I figured Claire had already gone to work and, Isabel, despite her jet-lag, probably had breakfast with Claire. Like me, Isabel ate breakfast, and she’d joked that she’d have Claire join our ranks soon. I didn’t know Claire’s breakfast habits, and I really didn’t care about them. The fact that all three of us would, one day, go down to the Moulin de Provence for espresso and bagels made me shudder. Okay, maybe we had a civilized conversation the night before, but Claire was a tight-ass at the best of times and her tongue spewed too much vinegar for my taste.

I picked up the phone and speed-dialed Isabel’s number. To my surprise, Claire’s sleepy voice answered.

“I don’t believe it,” I said, “it’s seven in the morning and you’re not at work.”

“What? Seven?” she said, sounding a lot more awake. “Oh, my God, I’m late.”

“Wait! Don’t hang up. Since you’re not gone, you can come and help me with my little problem.”

At that moment, the baby started to wail. Claire paused at the other end of the line. “Is it a girl?”

“That’s what I want you to come and check.”

“What makes you think I know anything about babies?”

“You’re a woman, aren’t you?”

“You are such a jerk.” She slammed the phone in my ear.

“Ouch.” No help from that quarter. I was debating what to do next —call Betty, or Mrs. P— when the doorbell rang. Isabel stood on the other side. I opened the door, pulled her inside. She had on a robe over a long nightgown and slippers. She yawned.

“You’re a life saver,” I said. “I’ll make coffee.”

“Diapers?”

I lifted the bag that I’d taken from the coffee table in expectation of help. “Did Claire tell you about this baby?”

“She told me about the one yesterday. It’s kind of hard to believe.”

“No shit.” I dragged her into my bedroom, where the baby was still crying. As far as I could tell, it looked exactly like the other one. “If you give it formula, it should grow several inches. Please don’t be scared, okay?”

“You’re staying with me, right?”

“Ah… coffee. I’ll go make coffee. I got bagels.”

Isabel shook her head and pushed me out the door. “Wimp.”

“You bet.”

A couple of minutes later, the crying stopped. I could hear Isabel cooing and laughing. Obviously a woman thing, because neither Terry or I had made the ridiculous sounds. Then there was no sound.

I left off dividing a bagel and went back to the bedroom. Isabel sat on the bed, her face pale, holding a much bigger baby in her arms. “It’s true.” She raised stunned eyes to mine. “After the affair with the Fates, I understood the world was weirder than I knew. But when Claire explained about the baby, I didn’t believe it. But it’s true.”

“Unfortunately.”

“You mean she’ll be gone by tonight?”

“Phoenix was gone in about seven hours.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. I fell asleep.” Or maybe someone had put me to sleep. I felt off-kilter, as if I had one foot on a balance beam and the other in the air. “He was a man by then. Listening to music. He loved music, especially opera.”

Isabel frowned. “That’s a little weird.”

“I thought that, too.” I went into the bathroom, came back with a towel. “Come on, I’ll put her on the floor near the breakfast bar. We can have breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Then you can watch me eat while you drink your coffee.”

Yesterday wasn’t that great a day, wrote only about 1,800 words. It’s the middle of the week two, and energy’s starting to flag. Part of it is that I’ve reached the dreaded middle. As soon as I’m over the hump, it’ll downhill from there. I am, however, to have passed the halfway point of word count.

Care for another unedited excerpt?

“Okay, here’s the scoop.” I told her everything that happened since that morning, up to the time she arrived.

“Poor Madame Pelletier,” Claire said. “She must’ve had quite a fright.”

“I think I’m going to have to tell her about it, especially if the kid comes back on Friday. I may lose a housekeeper, but I don’t want her to think she’s going crazy.” I took a sip of wine, feeling more relaxed than I’d been all day. I wasn’t sure if it was the wine or talking to Claire that had done it. Probably a bit of both. “One bizarre thing,” I said. “This morning, the bag was yellow with blue elephants. Now the elephants are pink.”

She nearly choked on her wine. “Surely not.”

“If it’s a girl, tomorrow, I’m gonna need help. And clothes. I had a naked baby, and soon a man, on the floor for a while, and that didn’t bother me. On the other hand, a naked girl turning into a naked woman is not something I really want to deal with. Phoenix grew out of his clothes in an hour.”

“You called him Phoenix.”

I shrugged. “I had to call him something.”

“That sounds like your type of dark humor.”

“Believe me, I didn’t think it was all that funny. And that goes for the entire situation.”

Meow.

The cranky sound made me turn. Fred had jumped onto my desk and glared at the diaper bag. “You know,” I said to Fred as I got up to pick up the bag, “you’re right. I never did look into this bag. Come to think of it, I never finished searching the other either.”

“Why’s that?” Claire said.

“Got interrupted. Twice.”

“Coincidence?”

I frowned. “I don’t know. I never got past the middle zipper, which had a couple of diapers, another bottle of formula, and something that looked like a power bar. As soon as he saw it, Phoenix pounced on it.”

“There may be one in there now. I wouldn’t mind analyzing it either.”

Fred had followed me —or maybe he had followed the bag— and jumped onto the coffee table. I set the bag down and sat beside Claire. The bag had three zippers and one zipped pocket at each end. I started with the middle pocket, extracted two pink infant-size diapers, two bottles of formula, the foil-wrapped power bar. Claire was reaching for that last item when the doorbell rang. She stopped and turned toward the door, an expectant look on her face.

“I bet that’s Isabel,” I said. “Why don’t you go check on that. I just remembered I left half of the pizza on the dining room table. I’ll stow it while you answer the door.”

It’s a good thing the day number follows the date, because I wouldn’t know which day it was. That’s what happens when you’re writing seven days a week. I’m having the time of my life, though, and it’s breathed fun into creating a story again. I seem to hit the 3,000 word a day wall, though. As soon as I get there, my brain turns to mush.

Here’s another (non-edited) excerpt:

Terry hung up on a laugh. The only other time I’d eaten ham at Betty’s, she’d made this half-melted brown sugar and pineapple sauce that could do absolutely nothing to meat that was so dry it looked and tasted like a wasp’s nest.

Claire raised an eyebrow at my lapse of language. I grimaced. “Betty’s cooking ham on Friday. They’re expecting me.” The corner of Claire’s mouth twitched into a smile. “You’d better not laugh, otherwise I’ll convince Betty she should invite you and Isabel as well. It shouldn’t be too difficult to do.”

“Right.” She raised her arm, dangling the diaper bag by its straps. “Explain that.”

“Answer a question, first. Is the only reason you want to know what’s happening to protect Isabel from me?”

Claire pinched her lips together. Sniffed. Plonked the bag on my desk. “Isabel tells me you won’t talk to her.”

“So?”

“For some insane reason —and we’ve discussed her lapse at length— she likes you. She’s worried about you. Thinks—”

“—I feel guilty. Hell, of course I do. You’d better stay away, Claire, because what I have may be catching.”

“And what do you have?”

“A bad case of alien contamination.”

“I see you haven’t lost your arrogance and conceit. I’m so relieved to see you’re still a jerk. For a moment, after you came back from the Dream World, I thought I’d be forced to like you. But that’s not the case. This is a case in point. Deciding what’s best for others. Only an arrogant jerk would do that.”

I sat down in my chair and burst out laughing. “Why is it that it always cheers me up when you’re being a bitch?”

Her mouth twitched. “It’s my uncanny sense of humour.” She placed her arms on either side of the bag and leaned forward. “I spent two hours of my precious spare time analyzing some pretty deadly stuff. If you didn’t want me involved, you should’ve gone to a private lab.” She pushed herself back up. “But then, you’d have to explain where it came from, wouldn’t you? Because they’d ask questions. Wait. That’s exactly what I’m doing. Fancy that.”

“Okay,” I said, with a pacifying gesture, “you made your point. I’ll tell you the whole thing.”