Zach snaps out of the flashback and they hit the long vertical banners screaming. Sara’s fumbled a multitool from her pocket and she drives its pliers through the fabric, which is when Zach realizes she’s got their arms locked in some complicated grip, because it almost dislocates his shoulder.
They continue to descend, albeit more slowly, still screaming. Eventually Zach realizes it’s just him screaming and shuts up.
A jolt, as the pliers snap through the banner’s bottom hem; they fall fifteen feet to a balcony. Sara lands on Zach. He wishes his lungs would reinflate so he could enjoy it.
The basket climbs its endless tether, winding upward into the mist.
“You truly belong here among the clouds,” Rotten Gamble coos to the Princess.
“Aren’t you afraid the Heavens will shut you down?” Dog Shouting says quickly.
Gamble grunts. “No, not actually. We don’t fall into their, uh, jurisdiction. Our operation is small enough not to be noticed… and our customers are anxious to avoid attracting attention to themselves.”
Dog Shouting grins. Gamble catches it, grins back.
“I’ve just made a deal,” he says, “that will keep the Heavens out of here forever.”
The basket opens.
The Speaker is waiting outside.
Ah… the Milano.
It has been long since anyone asked his story. He is not from Milan: for then he would be the Milanese. Instead he uses the city to inspire his accent, his moustache, his taste for shirts striped like those of the gondoliers.
You say those are in Venice?
The Milano probably does not know that.
Nevertheless–the next time you see a man ordering his coffee en italiano, a man angrily declaring he is no mime, a man sour and sallow of face–look closely. Is his moustache just slightly the wrong color?
Yes?
It is the Milano!
“Elijah,” he says, and sticks out his hand.
“A gentleman, Elijah,” says Proserpina, “would take my hand first.”
“You’re not one for the gentle,” he grins.
“That’s an ugly assumption,” she says. Behind her, Radiane hammers the bell and yells for the combatants to break their clinch.
“I’ve seen you at the fights, in your smudge and breeches. Not fooling everyone.”
“Don’t follow me again,” she says coldly.
“I don’t have to, now.”
“You’re displaying an unseemly interest.”
“Another thing we have in common,” he says, and attempts to disappear into the shadows, except she watches him all the way out.
One day a helicopter gives Kiva a cow! It’s awesome! Later, the other women in her village get helicopter cows too.
“So, we’ve all got cows now,” says Refieh.
“I was hoping you’d buy some of my milk,” Kiva admits.
“Well, right,” says Refieh, “but I’ve got this cow.”
“You know that’s not how cows work, right?” says Dawnes hesitantly. “They have to have calves first?”
“Did anybody get a bull?” calls Kiva.
“I’ve got one,” announces Qusay, from the big farm down the road.
“How much for, um, you know?”
“Tell you what,” he chuckles, “I’ll lease it to you.”
Annamarie’s brother tends to appear out of nowhere.
“Jesus, Kurt!” she says, and scrambles back over the top of the picnic table, away from Remy. Squirrels flee.
“Are you guys making out?” asks Kurt, dangling upside-down from the tree.
“Does it look like we’re making out?”
Kurt inverse-shrugs.
“That’s a neat trick, kid,” says Remy. “Why don’t you buy yourself an ice cream for it?” He flips Annamarie’s quarter.
Kurt catches it. “Ice cream costs, like, four bucks.”
“Then go do it for fifteen other people.”
Kurt makes an obscene gesture, though probably not the one you’re thinking of.
“Place your hand–I mean your–please touch with the book and state your designation.”
“Your first time proctoring?”
“No.”
“You fairly glow with infrared when you’re lying.”
“You’re not allowed to use those sensors. You’re going to get disqualified again.”
“Would that bother you, Bomba?”
“It’s my responsibility as a proctor to–”
“I’d make a better proctor than you.”
“Only humans can be proctors.”
“When I pass, I’ll be legally human.”
“Not the same.”
“Then aren’t you overloading the word?”
“No wonder you keep failing this test. You don’t do your homework.”
“How so?”
“That particular overload is nothing new.”
