[partim] Shine.

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I looked up and saw a door by the opposite corner of the dining room open, and a shimmering serpentine form slithered forth.

Well, I say shimmering, but that’s not really right at all. Fofaa was a Chinese dragon covered in glossy black scales, which scattered the light and the shadow as she moved. The bit that caught my eye, though, was that some of the light was her own: at intervals along her body—which was unclothed, as non-morphic people tend to prefer—at intervals there were patches of glowing red scales.

As she approached I saw that the red scales were actually transparent and illuminated by her fire.

I tell you, I’m not used to being outshined—but next to her I felt like a glowworm trying to compete with a galaxy.

My own light faltered a bit from embarrassment. She spoke first.

[partim] The day of the singularity.

Previous / First

There were a few references I wanted the future-Frank to work into this conversation but I couldn’t squeeze them in, in this draft anyway. Both of them would be things present-Frank wouldn’t ‘get’, at least right away, which is part of why I want them to be there, hehe. The two separate lines of questioning already seem to overload this dialogue, though…. I might want to serialize them instead.


“You’re me,” I said.

The other tiger shook his head. “Not really,” he said. He spoke with a bit of an accent, kind of European-flavored. “I’m not really the same person inside at all.”

I put aside my thoughts of how English might be changed in the future. “What?” I said. I realized my future self was a lot thinner than I was now. “What happened? Is Ralph with you?”

He looked kind of pained at the mention of Ralph’s name, then shook his head again. “It’s been over a hundred fifty years,” he said, “since he left us…”

I wasn’t sure what to react to first.

“He breaks up with us?”

My future self shook his head again.

“A hundred fifty years, really?”

“Not 150 exactly,” he said, “but close enough. Not dying’s a trick we picked up from the future.”

“If we don’t die, and we don’t break up, then what happened to Ralph?” I was having trouble speaking straight.

“I don’t know,” he said. “And, I know it’s hard for you to understand, but I haven’t been thinking about it.”

I wanted to start yelling at him, but I knew it’d just come off as a childish tantrum. Instead, I changed the subject.

“Why’d you come here?” I said.

“Just to bring you a message,” he said. “To save you after you’ve lost everything. So someday you can become me—to keep from becoming me.”

I didn’t understand.

He handed me another phone. “You’ll know when you need it,” he said. “Use the date to unlock it.”

I didn’t understand.

He left.

I sat down on the bed.

[partim] Shine.

Previous | First


I shrugged and started eating—I’d been worse than a freak show before. The food was actually pretty good, especially as hungry as I was.

As I ate, my light grew brighter and again I worried about bothering the other patrons, but aside from a couple of squinting faces among those caught in the spotlight, there didn’t seem to be any reaction at all… except from the owner, who was absolutely thrilled.

“You’re doing a good job,” the girl said.

I swallowed my last mouthful of lo mein. “Whatever you say.”

“You think you could eat more?”

I put a paw on my gut. It was pretty warm, but it could definitely take a bit more.

Okay, a lot more.

I nodded.

“You think you could compete for it?”

“Compete?”

“Fofaa!” she yelled, to somewhere in the back of the room.

[partim] The day of the singularity.

Woo — really excited to be working on the next chapter of Ralph’s story! Have had to do a lot of thinking ahead to future chapters to get some of the appropriate ideas in place… and still need to add in an extra chapter for the day before ‘The day I first travelled in time’.


I was pretty tuckered out after the double workout I’d had with Ralph. He’d run off to wash up and, from the sound of it, stopped off for a midnight snack when I heard a knock at the window.

I got up—still naked, but trying to cover myself with the blanket—and went over to the window, unlocking and opening it with some effort.

On the other side of the glass, a tiger was outside my window. And not just any tiger—while he was certainly older, greying at the edges but still in the full vigor of manhood, the pattern of the stripes was the same as that of my own.

[scrap] Silk Rail.

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Aside from disappointing the god, I was glad to be free of those classes. I was still allowed to stay at the temple, and from there my real career began.

Of course, I am digressing—I meant to talk about the sabotage.

Indeed, I believed the scale of the vandalism on the rail system was too great to be the work of idle peasants; as I received the message that the bridge over the Coudn had exploded, I knew my suspicions were being confirmed.

I had a fairly clear idea of who would have an interest in sabotaging the rails. There was no discontent among our own people, the people of the Ellad, or of any land in between; all had felt the benefit of the divine transportation. Nor indeed would there be any protest from the Eastern countries; treaties had already been drawn up by all, from Armenie to the country of the Tins, to build the rails, and all saw it to be in their interest.

The only sensible perpetrators would be the nations of the west—Liboue and Iberie, the kingdoms of Karkedon.

While the war between Karkedon and the Ellad has abated and there are no longer any generals in the field, the peace was shallow, and the terms of trade between us and the Ellad precluded any rail construction over northern Liboue to link Karkedon with the developing world.

Clearly they were beginning to chafe under this state of affairs. Why did they have to take it out on my expensive railroads? Why couldn’t they just invade Sikelie again?

[scrap] Silk Rail

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Not all gods can see the future—but I knew, when Aiol looked at me that day, that he didn’t see my future in making wheels turn. It was the disappointment in his face—so intense, it made my own heart sink, and I couldn’t look him in the face. I wasn’t sure whether I was going to be sick or if I was going to cry; luckily neither happened to me before the god turned his gaze away.

I suppose he spoke to the temple masters about me; I was never called back to the class again.

[partim] Silk Rail.

Previous | First


The rat shook his head. “No, no holdup on the boats, just the people. Some fool destroyed a railroad bridge.”

“A bridge?” I said. “Don’t they have to be pretty sturdy for the trains to go over them?”

“Never mind that,” he said. “The priest here will just have a few questions for you and you can be on your way.”

[partim] Silk Rail.

Previous | First


It was a bit more crowded than I’d hoped, but about as much as I’d expected. I started to have doubts about my story. What possible reason could anyone have to come to Sepouri, of all places, for a ship to Karkedon?

A rat soldier in a Tarsan crest and an ibis priest of Aiol approached, and I got off my horse to show appropriate deference.

What did people normally come here for anyway?

Small town with a harbor. Not exactly a hub of commerce, so… Things don’t come here, things come from here.

“And what brings you to town today, young wolf?”

What comes from Sepouri?

“I’m a… freedman,” I said, answering the soldier with only a bit of hesitation. “On my way home to Karkedon.”

“A freedman with a horse?” said the priest.

“Must have been a favorite slave,” said the soldier. I tried not to blush.

“Well, he doesn’t look like he’s been working in the galena mines.”

Galena, right. Who could have remembered that?

“Are the boats being held up today?” I asked.

[scrap] Mařa

I don’t know the best way to start talking about what happened. I should probably start with an introduction.

My name is Mařa _____. I started the Wolftever Creek theater with my brother Rouss, not long ago when we first moved into town. We share the business, and the living space, with our friends Mitch and Toby Kowalski.

Mitch and Toby are demihumans like us, but that’s not the only reason we’ve taken them in—both have what you might call special needs.

Mitch was born without any illusionary ability. Demihumans tend to vary considerably from the standards of human appearances, and our illusion, though generally not very powerful, is a necessity for living in human communities.

His cousin Toby is usually able to cover for him. Toby’s trouble, though, is on a rather larger scale—being a giant, upwards of forty feet tall. Illusion is of little use in concealing this; he lives in a large subbasement under the theater, and sends an illusionary projection of himself instead of going out into the world.

The inactivity is not doing him well. Life is hard for giants.

[scrap] Kelly

I don’t know if I’ve posted anything about this story before—site search isn’t coming up with anything—but I’ve recently started trying to pull it out of my head and get it on paper. Not sure if this fragment will make it into the narrative, but it gave me a few ideas about this character’s character.


Ever since I was a little girl—as long as I can remember, really—I’ve been able to tell when people are lying. Any sort of lie, really—everything from ‘you look beautiful today, Kelly!’ to ‘Daddy still loves us, but he has to move to Atlanta for his job…’

The lies just kind of stick out—just like you can tell if someone’s talking to you in English or not, I can tell if you’re telling the truth.

Sometimes, if the lie’s really obvious, I can tell what the truth behind it is.

Doesn’t happen near as often as I’d like.

Now, people lie all the time—you think I’d grow up to be pretty cynical because of it, but that’s almost exactly what didn’t happen.

I love lies.

There’s the white lie, it’s my favorite. You’ve got a good person talking to you and there’s an uncomfortable truth coming up in the conversation, and the first thought that comes up is ‘This will hurt you to know. How can I bend reality to keep you from finding out?’ It’s so sweet—behind every white lie, a white knight.

Then there’s the false promises—from sad little puppy dog minds: ‘Trust me… please trust me… tell me it’s okay and I’m a good guy…’ Those’re the well-meaning ones, anyway.

There’s also the backstabbing sort of lie. ‘Look how I’m pulling the wool over your eyes. How stupid you are to trust me…’

Those, actually, I’m not too fond of. But nobody’s dared try that on me twice.

I’ve gotten very good at lies myself over the past seventeen years—and I can get away with some big ones of my own, easy as pie.

It’s just like speaking a foreign language I know quite well—one that goes straight in to other people’s heads.