By Greg van Eekhout.
Read by Stephen Eley.
I launched into my next bit, which I’d rehearsed that morning on the tram. “What I liked about your stories is that you never knew where they were going. It’d start off as a World War II military adventure, but then it would wind up being about android worms from another dimension out to steal Earth’s dirt. It’s like other writers’ stories are bridges: There’s a beginning, there’s an end, and it’s a pretty straight shot through. It might be a long bridge, or curvy, maybe, so you can’t quite see the ending coming. But the trip basically makes sense. Your stories were different, though. You always blew up your bridges halfway across, and you’d have to swim for the banks, and you’d end up on some rock with weird lizards.”
On the verge of laughter, he looked at me. “You’re kidding, right?”
Rated R. Contains profanity and a disturbing resemblance to Philip K. Dick.