figment of my imagination. A bit of underdone potato , I thought
in an English accent, thinking of the old movie Scrooge. Even the
media seemed like they had a hard time believing it. Experts crowded the
news stations with opinions about what this invitation implied, making what was
first a straightforward idea into another point of controversy.
I
made the mistake of flipping through the channels, and getting plenty of
perspectives on the issue. “…American citizens we’re talking about, we
can’t just send them without any protection …“ Flip . “…brainwash them, or send back sleeper agents or…” Flip. “…Exiles
might protest…” Flip. “…great step forward for Azry/Earth
relations…” Flip. “…China and Russia are protesting DIDA’s
approval of the trip, claiming the U.S. does not have jurisdiction over
interdimensional agreements….” Flip. I wasn’t sure if it
terrified me or exhausted me that so many people were so invested in my little
trip.
I
spent the next few days awkwardly training Shawn, making lists of what I needed
to take, and spending time with Jack. Jack did his best to prepare me,
and at least I had a solid foundation from all my studies. I’d be
surprised if any of the other tourists knew what they were walking into better
than I did right then, with the exception of Kim.
I
stopped by Daedalus Bookshop, one of my favorite local spots, and chose an
ornate journal to be my one true love on the trip. I packed three pencils
(I lost them on a weekly basis), bought a lovely French press, and squeezed
four pounds of ground coffee into my backpack. If I ran out, it would be
a dark day indeed.
Was
I taking too much? A Google search of “what to bring to Azry” was not at
all productive. General travel checklists asked me questions such as
‘will you be swimming?’ and ‘will you be attending formal events?’, none of
which I could answer with any confidence. Shawn procured an Epi-Pen for
me, in case I was allergic to high doses of magic (although I’d never heard of
such a thing). Jack gave me a thin, 6” stiletto spring-assisted
switchblade, and, winking, told me I could slip it past security.
“No
way the fey will miss this,” I told him flatly.
“Yes,
they will,” he insisted. “The last thing a fey would do to a new guest is pat them
down. I guarantee it. Just make sure it doesn’t show when you go
through security. Then again, if you insist on a pat down, there’s going
to be a mortified fey. If it wasn’t so important for you to have this,
I’d highly encourage you to try that. Mortified fey are so entertaining.”
“Remind
me to mortify you sometime.”
He
grinned. “I dare you.”
I
didn’t take the bait, but filed it away in the back of my head. There had got to be some dirt on him I could dig up. I shook my head at the knife
in my hand and tried to pass it back to him. “And what exactly am I
supposed to do with this, other than maybe open packages? It’s more like
a letter opener on steroids than a weapon.”
“I
hope you don’t have to use it, but if you do, aim for the
kidneys.” He touched his sides, in the same places as human
kidneys. It was nice to know that fey biology more or less matched
ours. “Keep in mind the knife will probably just bounce off the ribcage
if you aim for the heart,” he added helpfully.
“How
the hell do you know that?” I exclaimed, and wondered who had pissed him
off.
“I
took martial arts classes.”
“Uh
huh. I don’t think Tao Kwon Do teaches knife fighting.”
Jack
chewed on that before answering. “I took a few extra classes in other
things, too,” he admitted, but then sighed loudly. “I can practically
hear you thinking, Jan… this wasn’t something I knew before I came here.
This is something I learned because Earth is fucking violent.”
I
could accept that, although Azry had its moments too. It was a sign of
how
in an English accent, thinking of the old movie Scrooge. Even the
media seemed like they had a hard time believing it. Experts crowded the
news stations with opinions about what this invitation implied, making what was
first a straightforward idea into another point of controversy.
I
made the mistake of flipping through the channels, and getting plenty of
perspectives on the issue. “…American citizens we’re talking about, we
can’t just send them without any protection …“ Flip . “…brainwash them, or send back sleeper agents or…” Flip. “…Exiles
might protest…” Flip. “…great step forward for Azry/Earth
relations…” Flip. “…China and Russia are protesting DIDA’s
approval of the trip, claiming the U.S. does not have jurisdiction over
interdimensional agreements….” Flip. I wasn’t sure if it
terrified me or exhausted me that so many people were so invested in my little
trip.
I
spent the next few days awkwardly training Shawn, making lists of what I needed
to take, and spending time with Jack. Jack did his best to prepare me,
and at least I had a solid foundation from all my studies. I’d be
surprised if any of the other tourists knew what they were walking into better
than I did right then, with the exception of Kim.
I
stopped by Daedalus Bookshop, one of my favorite local spots, and chose an
ornate journal to be my one true love on the trip. I packed three pencils
(I lost them on a weekly basis), bought a lovely French press, and squeezed
four pounds of ground coffee into my backpack. If I ran out, it would be
a dark day indeed.
Was
I taking too much? A Google search of “what to bring to Azry” was not at
all productive. General travel checklists asked me questions such as
‘will you be swimming?’ and ‘will you be attending formal events?’, none of
which I could answer with any confidence. Shawn procured an Epi-Pen for
me, in case I was allergic to high doses of magic (although I’d never heard of
such a thing). Jack gave me a thin, 6” stiletto spring-assisted
switchblade, and, winking, told me I could slip it past security.
“No
way the fey will miss this,” I told him flatly.
“Yes,
they will,” he insisted. “The last thing a fey would do to a new guest is pat them
down. I guarantee it. Just make sure it doesn’t show when you go
through security. Then again, if you insist on a pat down, there’s going
to be a mortified fey. If it wasn’t so important for you to have this,
I’d highly encourage you to try that. Mortified fey are so entertaining.”
“Remind
me to mortify you sometime.”
He
grinned. “I dare you.”
I
didn’t take the bait, but filed it away in the back of my head. There had got to be some dirt on him I could dig up. I shook my head at the knife
in my hand and tried to pass it back to him. “And what exactly am I
supposed to do with this, other than maybe open packages? It’s more like
a letter opener on steroids than a weapon.”
“I
hope you don’t have to use it, but if you do, aim for the
kidneys.” He touched his sides, in the same places as human
kidneys. It was nice to know that fey biology more or less matched
ours. “Keep in mind the knife will probably just bounce off the ribcage
if you aim for the heart,” he added helpfully.
“How
the hell do you know that?” I exclaimed, and wondered who had pissed him
off.
“I
took martial arts classes.”
“Uh
huh. I don’t think Tao Kwon Do teaches knife fighting.”
Jack
chewed on that before answering. “I took a few extra classes in other
things, too,” he admitted, but then sighed loudly. “I can practically
hear you thinking, Jan… this wasn’t something I knew before I came here.
This is something I learned because Earth is fucking violent.”
I
could accept that, although Azry had its moments too. It was a sign of
how
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