Excerpts From Nonexistent Books

“We call it the Suren Paradox.”

“Suren was a great general in Parthia–Iran–who led less than ten thousand men. But with them he managed to defeat Crassus–the guy who killed Spartacus–even though the Romans outnumbered him three to one.”

“You’d expect something like that to earn you a pretty rich reward right?”

“You’d be wrong. Suren called attention to himself and his ability, which made the Shah afraid that his general would try to seize the throne. He got himself executed on some trumped-up charge.”

“So in the end the only winner was the Shah, who got a Roman invasion repelled and got to use Crassus’ head as a stage prop.

“The lesson, kiddo, is this: if you shine too brightly under someone who has absolute power over you, like your boss, chances are even that they’ll axe you for making them look bad.”

The nature of TechCo’s system was to prevent any one “associate” from having any real power or information. Every bit of information came from the database software, every action had to be double-checked with the floor manager, and any really big decisions were made by “supervisors” who were, in point of fact, hundreds of miles away.

This meant that Andrea had to keep customers on the line for a long time, much of which was dead air as she waited for higher-ups or the creaky database to give her information. She felt the need to fill these spaces with something beyond the boilerplate she’d been trained to spout–“your call is very important to us”–and tried above all to give the impression that people were talking to a human being.

It was only partially successful. Most people just grunted a reply when asked about their weekend, or their history using the widgets for which TechCo handled outsourced service calls. Others were so desperate for a human voice, especially one that sounded youthful and female, that they unloaded reams of personal information that a less scrupulous person could have put to nefarious ends. Some even asked for her personal phone number, which was grounds for instant termination from TechCo, though luckily most of those appeared to be mutants who weren’t numberworthy in the first place.

“So, the agent had to infiltrate the enemy base…”

“Capital,” Jaycee said. “The agent had to infiltrate the enemy capital.”

“Right, their capital, which was also their main base. So she snuck onto a train going there…”

“A plane. She snuck on a plane,” insisted Jaycee.

“Who’s telling this story?” Brenda sighed. “You or me?”

“I know you’re telling it, but you have to tell it right,” Jaycee pouted. “If you say the agent was on a train when she was really on a plane, then it’s all ruined.”

Brenda rolled her eyes. She looked over at the agent, all dolled up in black for infiltration. “Did you really sneak on a plane?” she asked.

“Oh yes,” the agent nodded. “It’s faster.”

“I’m looking for a molder,” said Davis. “Someone who can manipulate the Permeable Lands.”

“Hell, we all can a little bit,” the bartender said. “Even out here in Grant’s Crossing.” To prove his point, he filled Davis’ cup not with liquor but with dust. A moment of concentration later–no more than a blink of the bartender’s eyes–and the glass was full of amber liquid.

“Is it…safe to drink?”

“Of course it is,” the bartender scoffed. “I’m very good at molding liquors. why do you think I run a bar? Just don’t be leaving the Permeable Lands before you piss, or you’ll be feeling the effects of a gutful of sand.”

“I need someone who can make a bit more than that,” Davis said. “A lot more, actually.”

“What is it? Most everyone here in Grant’s Crossing can make one or two things well.”

“A person,” said Davis. “I need someone to mold a person.”