Queen of the Hudson

Microwave Explosion

9/21/2020 10:36pm

I wouldn't let @Larry Fantasio know it, but I was happy to be in the air again. At the helm again. Stealing a ship again.

Queen of the Hudson wasn't my only Queen gig. It's a job I specialize in. A niche market.

Pirate Queen, Queen of the Underworld, Queen of the Night. Mattress Queen, Burrito Queen, Dairy Queen. Everybody seems to fall for a queen, and I've got the moves down.

As for Pirate Queen, that's how I ended up in Poughkeepsie. A cargo ship full of magical supplies (enchanted scarves, wooden eggs, full fingertip sets, rabbit food) had come into my possession and I was coming to town to unload the merchandise to a shady shell company run by the Magician's Union but it was a set up. They took the goods and set themselves up tight with the CGA. I jumped bail and found a new group of eager subjects--the Twigs.

But now Larry's seen an end to that with his cockeyed schemes.

"Keep heading west," he says.

It's been a long time since I've chased the sunset from the air. And it feels good to be home.

Microwave Explosion

4/14/2020 10:22pm

The box is wide open, and branches crawl through it.

Mirrored infinity box. (This has got to be the most haunted building in town, just on account of the mirrors. A barber shop, a salon, and the big pane glass mirrors reflect each other up into a loop, into the nautilus shell, getting more narrow by degree, as it curls up and up),

the path from the reed-covered lodge leads away, away from the little-water place, up and over the wood, a crazy funhouse hallway, twisting and turning and walled in cheap carnival glass,

but now the branches are breaking through, shattering glass and wrestling with the frames, pulling them apart and stretching stretching stretching them like an accordion, out out out and never in, farther and farther and turning and pulling the path, stretching mirrors. Now great writhing roots crash through the floors and pull the box apart.

My beautiful Chinese Lightning Box. Now in pieces on the forest floor.

What have you done, @Larry Fantasio?

Microwave Explosion

12/30/2019 9:51pm

"And this is the box?" I ask.

Melvin 117 has it buried in his arms.

"Uh... yes! Yes your... uh, majesty."

He looks around like he's not sure what to do, then holds it before me, squinting, like I might breathe fire.

"Bring it to me."

He looks around again, then walks up the steps of my dais.

The Twigs in my court stand and reach for their weapons. Denizens of the shanty towns around Poughkeepsie Field, homeless from the city, others that got lucky and found their ways up the social ladder but still remember where they came from. The clone population grows daily, thanks to the combined efforts of the Cloning Governance Administration and the Magician's Union. An endless supply of workers and little people to keep the companies going serves them both. Clones who want to be free.

I lift my hand, and they stand down. Melvin 117 hands me the box.

It wasn't always like this. Why am I the only one that remembers?

One ship -- the Microwave Explosion -- and one expired delivery of biofilm. That's all it took. That's the danger of biofilm -- it's not a localized medium. It's BIOFILM. It's all connected. Once one frame exploded, the whole movie went up. Clones everywhere. Forever.

Why am I the only one who remembers?

Because I've seen myself at the other end of the box.

I saw myself as Queen.

I can lead us all out of here. I can lead us all back to before it began.

Because now I have the box.