Part I
“I
was going for ducks,” he frowned sheepishly, “Must have said the incantation
wrong.”
“And
you thought you’d put them in the pantry?”
“You
never know when a chicken might come in useful. Or twelve.”
I
sighed, “I know twelve chickens would be little use to anyone other than a
farmer or a butcher, and we are neither nor. What did you want ducks for
anyway?”
Sam
shrugged. “Ducks are cute.”
I
shook my head, words completely failing me. “Agh,” I muttered, walking back
into the living room.
“At
least they’re not dragons!” he called after me.
“No.
I suppose not.” Touch wood. Dragons
were not something I ever hoped to find on my afternoon snack raids. I went
back to the pantry, which now had a faint barnyard scent floating around it,
and after careful examination of the contents pulled out a bag of microwave
popcorn and walked heavily up the stairs.
Living
in an attic room has its pros and cons. Pro: it’s a big room with its own cool
little staircase. Con: it’s never warm enough. Pro: it’s privately tucked away
from everyone else. Con: the bathroom is two floors down. You get the point.
Either way, I liked living at the top of the house. It was like a little
apartment of my own. I had a sink, a microwave, a kettle, even a mini fridge
big enough to fit about four average sized beer cans in. I popped the paper bag
into the microwave and pulled up the day’s news on my computer. Nothing much
had happened in the eight or nine hours I’d been away: gunfire in the eastern
states; a looting spree in the south; floods in one of the western provinces;
and a small earthquake in the mid-north. Odd.
They’re not usually susceptible to tremors. I shrugged off this thought and
turned my attention to the microwave, inside which the paper bag was leaping
around like a distressed frog stuck in, well, a microwave.
Popcorn
was a staple of my diet. It had enough nutrients to sustain my body’s naturally
heightened metabolism and the grease was good for my new heart, which was two
thirds CarbonToxylCarbide III – CTC3.
Biological science had come a long way in the past thirty years, which was
fortunate when my original heart gave out three years ago. Apparently my
heightened metabolism, although technically genetic, was a sort of long-term
birth defect. By the time adolescence kicked in my heart couldn’t handle the
demand my rapidly energy-burning cellular structure was placing on it. I was
with Sam at the time, shopping. Food shopping, and I was hungry. I reached up
to grab a box of toffee popcorn and collapsed, bringing half a shelf of boxes
down on top of me. Credit to the QuickShop shelf-stackers, they do know the
most efficient ways to shift large volumes of boxes. Ironically the amount of
metabolistic adrenalin coursing through my system when I collapsed kept my
brain on standby while the paramedchanics did their job. A few hours later I
had an upgraded heart and a serious craving for toffee popcorn.
