Af was in a nightmare. Ko’s nightmare? Why had Ko beckoned Af into a nightmare?
They were standing in a pit, shoulder-deep, a narrow curving channel of metal under a looming, rotating ungainly bulbous structure that was both gaudily painted and had chunks of rusty metal flaking off of it. A mad scientist’s lab of gears and chains rattled and whirled in the inner wall. They clambered out the other side and reeled away. They looked back and up to see a huge metal head, three or four times Af’s height, with bulging red cheeks, a grinning mouth full of wolffish serrated teeth, a protruding nose, lidless black eyes. A dozen or so braids sprouted between the points of the gilded king’s crown it wore: metal arms, bobbing up and down from which dangled little cars just big enough for a cosy couple. A sign sticking out of its ear proclaimed: “El Amigo Loco”
Okay, a carnival ride. Something from 19th or 20th century Earth, maybe.
It was supposed to be merry, but it was giving Af the creeps. “Ko?” they called uncertainly.
They turned away from the ride, toward a midway densely peopled with NPCs.
The NPCs reeled around. One waved pom-poms in Af’s face; they pulled back. The NPCs were variously gobbling drumsticks, scarfing pizza slices, chowing down on hot dogs, but of course they had no smell. An off-leash little dog – a peke? – weaved underfoot. On the sides of the midway, stooges lined up at hucksters’ booths to be fleeced. A raucous tenor sax melody blared from unseen speakers.
“Ko! Where are you?”
Ko appeared, recognizable even in an over-sized clownsuit. “–orryy. Not…” They flickered, derezzed. “–anted.”
The lag seemed terrible, the worst it had ever been since Af and Ko had started seeing each other. Nearly two minutes? Af thought for a moment. Three and a half million clicks, give or take. Af had never felt farther from Ko. Af had never been farther from Ko.
phrases: lab, wolf, amigo, eye, peke, cheek, pit, mouth, stooge, gobble, scarf, nose, chow, pom, king, tenor