Read Online Flex by Ferrett Steinmetz - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ferrett Steinmetz
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videogames,” Paul continued. “Your tilt the other day – it caused a rain of frogs not two miles from here. They’re hunting for you. Hunting hard .”
Her eyes slid to one side, looking for an escape. He slipped in the biggest lie of all: “I came to warn you.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“You can ask questions. Or you can get those games out. You might make it out with your skin intact once the SMASH team arrives, but those videogames? Shot to shards.”
“How do you know?”
He flexed that muscle back at the office. It had been a lie when he started… But now, fluttering into an inbox in the Stapleton police department, was a notification of an all-points reality hazard at 672 Tompkins Avenue. He’d faxed it into the cops two hours ago.
Normally, he’d need to sign something to activate the ’mancy. But having seen this gamemancer Flex imaginary fingers, he imagined a pen in his hand, signed symbolic paper.
A helicopter’s rotors echoed across the rooftops.
See? Paul thought, dizzied by the accomplishment. She’s already teaching you .
She ran her fingernails along the bright orange Bowser tattoo on her forearm, arm hairs raised from Paul’s ’mancy. Her wariness slackened into wonderment, that pixie-like face lighting up with a silly grin, and Paul felt the spark leap between them: You do this, too.
Though if she was experienced enough to tell what he was doing – if other ’mancers could tell what other ’mancers did – then he was dead.
“Oh. My. God.” Her voice rose to a fanboy squee – a cheerful gushing that sounded nothing like a murderer. “What’s your obsession?”
“Questions, or safety.” Paul sounded more confident than he felt. “Choose.”
She flinched, then broke towards the shelves. Paul felt bad; she was panicked. He emptied out a sack of crushed hematite onto the rug, puffs of smoky green spiraling upwards, and tossed it to her. She hurled her cartridges in.
“Aww, dammit .” She stroked the beat-up chair as though it were a cat she had to put to sleep. “I’m gonna miss you, boy. But I can’t carry you.”
“Better than the Army,” he said. “Now run. We’ll be in touch.” We? he thought, amazed at his ability to manufacture bullshit.
She gave him a guarded look. Already, she hated being in his debt. Or, perhaps, for being responsible when she wanted to play.
“Your name,” she commanded. Paul chuckled, trying to preserve the mystery; she stood, Doc Martined feet planted far apart, implacable.
“I said your name ,” she repeated.
He should have despised her. She was a terrorist. She’d hurt Aliyah. She also didn’t bullshit, didn’t try to pretend this was anything other than a Flex lab, didn’t try to pretend she hadn’t intended to murder him. She held an honesty .
And she loved magic. Just like him.
“…Paul,” he told her.
“You’re good, Paul.” She heaved the bag of videogames over one shoulder, the hematite bag over the other. “But you’re no Cigarette-Smoking Man.”
And she was gone.
Seven
How to Take Down a ’Mancer
P aul slumped back against the tiki bar, feeling the exhilaration shiver through his muscles. He’d done it. The first step towards saving Aliyah.
Now he just had to track that ’mancer down again, convince her there was usefulness in an alliance… and she’d teach him how to tame The Beast.
The thought had a strange eagerness he didn’t care for, a dog yanking on the leash. The training was necessary, but he also had an addictive urge to share his secret. He’d hidden his love of magic all these years, but with the girl’s company came the ability to enthuse .
He felt no enthusiasm now. His skull was clogged with pressure: flux.
He limped up the stairs, feeling a new hitch in his artificial foot; she’d done splash damage, frying his phone. Could he do ’mancy that blatant? He doubted it; bureaucromancy worked subtly and slow. Then again, he’d cleared a path through the fire…
He
Her eyes slid to one side, looking for an escape. He slipped in the biggest lie of all: “I came to warn you.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“You can ask questions. Or you can get those games out. You might make it out with your skin intact once the SMASH team arrives, but those videogames? Shot to shards.”
“How do you know?”
He flexed that muscle back at the office. It had been a lie when he started… But now, fluttering into an inbox in the Stapleton police department, was a notification of an all-points reality hazard at 672 Tompkins Avenue. He’d faxed it into the cops two hours ago.
Normally, he’d need to sign something to activate the ’mancy. But having seen this gamemancer Flex imaginary fingers, he imagined a pen in his hand, signed symbolic paper.
A helicopter’s rotors echoed across the rooftops.
See? Paul thought, dizzied by the accomplishment. She’s already teaching you .
She ran her fingernails along the bright orange Bowser tattoo on her forearm, arm hairs raised from Paul’s ’mancy. Her wariness slackened into wonderment, that pixie-like face lighting up with a silly grin, and Paul felt the spark leap between them: You do this, too.
Though if she was experienced enough to tell what he was doing – if other ’mancers could tell what other ’mancers did – then he was dead.
“Oh. My. God.” Her voice rose to a fanboy squee – a cheerful gushing that sounded nothing like a murderer. “What’s your obsession?”
“Questions, or safety.” Paul sounded more confident than he felt. “Choose.”
She flinched, then broke towards the shelves. Paul felt bad; she was panicked. He emptied out a sack of crushed hematite onto the rug, puffs of smoky green spiraling upwards, and tossed it to her. She hurled her cartridges in.
“Aww, dammit .” She stroked the beat-up chair as though it were a cat she had to put to sleep. “I’m gonna miss you, boy. But I can’t carry you.”
“Better than the Army,” he said. “Now run. We’ll be in touch.” We? he thought, amazed at his ability to manufacture bullshit.
She gave him a guarded look. Already, she hated being in his debt. Or, perhaps, for being responsible when she wanted to play.
“Your name,” she commanded. Paul chuckled, trying to preserve the mystery; she stood, Doc Martined feet planted far apart, implacable.
“I said your name ,” she repeated.
He should have despised her. She was a terrorist. She’d hurt Aliyah. She also didn’t bullshit, didn’t try to pretend this was anything other than a Flex lab, didn’t try to pretend she hadn’t intended to murder him. She held an honesty .
And she loved magic. Just like him.
“…Paul,” he told her.
“You’re good, Paul.” She heaved the bag of videogames over one shoulder, the hematite bag over the other. “But you’re no Cigarette-Smoking Man.”
And she was gone.
Seven
How to Take Down a ’Mancer
P aul slumped back against the tiki bar, feeling the exhilaration shiver through his muscles. He’d done it. The first step towards saving Aliyah.
Now he just had to track that ’mancer down again, convince her there was usefulness in an alliance… and she’d teach him how to tame The Beast.
The thought had a strange eagerness he didn’t care for, a dog yanking on the leash. The training was necessary, but he also had an addictive urge to share his secret. He’d hidden his love of magic all these years, but with the girl’s company came the ability to enthuse .
He felt no enthusiasm now. His skull was clogged with pressure: flux.
He limped up the stairs, feeling a new hitch in his artificial foot; she’d done splash damage, frying his phone. Could he do ’mancy that blatant? He doubted it; bureaucromancy worked subtly and slow. Then again, he’d cleared a path through the fire…
He
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