Excerpt: Spoonfry and Company

In the overly-mechanical world of G.L.U.G., things were looking pretty hopeless at the turn of the century. But, as any human well knows, I would hope, time keeps to its own pace, and keeps it own counsel. Therefore, when change, terrible, swift, and great, rolled out its secrets to the wind, few people paid attention. I must admit, even if anyone had had any inkling of what was to come, I very much doubt whether it would have made a difference. History will gloss the details, and many people will forget.
This is why I am writing to you now. For this is the most peculiar story of the individuals who got caught up in this business and perhaps affected (effected?) the Change the most. I hate to pander to the phrase “unlikely heroes," but in this case, I’m think I’m well in my rights to be an exception to the rule. See, I am quite sure there will never again be a story anything like theirs.

“Ready?”
Kegley Wittle’s voice, obnoxiously cheerful even over a twenty-something and a half mile radius, crackled loudly in my ear. I wanted to fiddle with the earpiece, but I stopped my hand before it could do any damage. That was something I minded. I could stop myself a lot better now. The static rasp would’ve completely skewed my nerves, even if I hadn’t been doing what I was about to do. Who could possibly be ready for that?
I wanted to say no, I really did. And not even just to be contrary, but because I was truly not ready, and what’s more I really didn’t want to be ready to be ready either. But the contrarian was silent. If there was anything I had learned, it was that trust is not won nor kept easily. And no story can be told without trust. Trust in truth is one thing. Truth is relative. Trust is everything.
“You’d better believe it, Kee.”
“Alrighty then. Locking down on the coordinates. Stand by for a sec, okay?”
“Yup.”
“How are you feeling? Tell the truth, now.” A hand rested on my shoulder. I looked out the window into the dense fog and considered for a moment.
“A little overset.” I told the hand. “But not sick yet.”
“Rax just threw up. So, I guess he wins the pot.”
“He always wins the pot.” I turned past the hand to the human. “How do you not get rattled Pombai?”
“Too tall. Too much meat. Plus I fell on my head a lot when I was a kid.” His grin curved up into his cheeks. “Skewed my perspective on danger.”
I rolled my eyes around twice at him. “Don’t answer me then. Jerk.”
“Go time in ten minutes.” He said cheerfully, clapping my shoulder.”
I heard retching and a moan. “Why doesn’t Rax ever listen to me? I tell him not to binge and pig out before we do these things.”
“7th time’s the charm?” Glyno was suddenly standing at my elbow.
“More like 7,000th.”
“I think for Rax...” He paused. I again withheld the urge to betray myself through body language. My foot was silent. It wouldn’t have been silent a year ago. “He eats large amounts of his favorite food...just in case. It’s a promise and a curse.”
“8 minutes!” Hemisphere boomed.
“Like you see you later?” I asked Glyno.
His smile drooped a little. “Very similar I think.”