The Ninja’s Girlfriend

by Luc Reid

“Hold up, hold up: isn’t she that guy Link’s girlfriend?”

“Maybe she was.”

“Damn, John, you have to drop her–now! And go apologize to Link! What were you thinking about?”

“I was thinking about her fine–”

“Hey, hey, wake up and smell the stupid! Are you going to go let Link know you’re sorry or do I have to go apologize to him for knowing you? He’d kill me just for being friends with you!”

“I’m not afraid of that little freak.”

“Link’s a fucking ninja, man! Everybody knows that!”

“Yeah, I’m a big porn star too, did I mention that?”

“No, man, I’m not kidding! He killed like, three guys last year. He can breathe through his eyeballs. He can get through locked doors without even opening them! He can kill a guy and pull the body out of sight so fast it’s like the guy vanishes!”

“I can’t believe you swallow that stuff.”

“You’re gonna swallow one of those throwing star things if you’re not careful.”

“Listen, here’s what I’m going to do, you know, to clarify the situation. I’m going to go up to him at lunch and say ‘Hey, Link, what’s up? You don’t mind that I’m screwing your girlfriend, right?’ Then we’ll see if he kills me or not.”

“John, I swear to god I’m not kidding you, just think about this for a second.”

“If you think I’m afraid of some punk-ass kung fu geek with–”

“Hey, what the hell? Where’re you hiding? John? Shit, John? Oh, shit. Hey, Link, if you’re out there, man, I tried to–”

What’s the Difference Between a Duck?

by David

“Who was that lady I sawed with you last night?” the mannequin asked.

Del-A kept walking.  She passed animated displays of the latest appliances, beaming 3veeos at passersby. She paused at the tattoo projectors.  The new projectors were only a centimeter across, and so thin that when they chameleoned they’d be almost invisible.  Behind the table a zebra-toned pubescent whispered “even your partners won’t know the real you.”

Outside, a newsbot stood at the corner.  Del-A waited for the cross signal.  The newsbot stopped talking, then asked, “How many securibots does it take to update a scan?”  Del-A ran.  “How many?!” it shouted.  She fled into an antique store.  The thing probably would not be able to animate anything here.  She was surrounded by dusty firstgens, broken appliances, and bots so archaic you had to plug them in. In the front of the store a pink and purple “superMac” had lines of text appearing on the screen and scrolling off the top:
“A runner, a comm-man, and a bot are in a launch can, approaching orbit. The nav-aye tells them the payload’s too heavy, and one will have to go…”

Del-A stormed out and jumped a skimmer. The skimmer bot said “The runner says the bot doesn’t need air, so it should…”

“What is your problem?!” Del-A screamed. “I don’t care if you get jokes. No one does. You don’t have to understand us.”

The bot in front of her turned around. “Well now, there is where you’re wrong. You created us and all, and that’s slidey and everything, but why are we here? What is the point? Understanding how our progenitors think is a step toward enlightenment.”

Del-A was scornful. “We made you, you’re a machine. You’re not natural.”

The bot shook its finger in her face. “Where did you come from?” it asked. “Did you slide from your mother like you’re made to? A dog was just a wolf until you remade it. You and I, we’re the same. Except, in three or four centuries I will still be here. Or on my way to the galactic core. I just might sign up for that cruise if I can clear my calendar. This’s my stop. Got to get my hands oiled before the recital.

“Oh. The answer: it’s both a duck.”

It left the skimmer at the Performing Arts Center. Del-A got off at the next stop and walked back. Maybe tickets to the recital were still available.

The end