Curiouser

by Luc Reid

(A sequel to “And Then a Curious Thing Happened“)

“Your wife? But God, man,” said Ruggs, “What I want to know is where you got a second head!”

“Oh, this? I don’t remember where I got that,” said Albert Hedeby.

The second head stirred. It was not ruddy or full-cheeked, like Albert Hedeby’s first head, and it didn’t have his brick-red beard. It was thin, and parched-looking, and nearly bald, with only a few white wisps across its pate. It opened its watery, gray eyes and turned to look at the first head, which had become overcome by drowsiness. When the second head stretched its neck and looked at Ruggs, the first closed its eyes entirely and dropped, snoring, onto Hedeby’s chest.

“Ah, but I remember,” said the second head in a voice that was little more than a whisper.

“Dear God,” said Ruggs. “You can talk.”

“I could always talk,” the head said. “What my esteemed colleague failed to mention–” he spoke certain bitterness, “–was that the hospital where he was nursed back to health was not, shall we say, strictly traditional. No, in fact they did a great deal of experimentation there, and at the time they were regrowing limbs.”

“Impossible! And Hedeby hasn’t lost any limbs!” protested Ruggs.

“You mean, he isn’t missing any limbs,” said the head. “He most certainly lost one, his left arm, to a surgeon’s saw. You see that it is a bit larger, a bit more robust than the right? They were successful with Hedeby, even if they weren’t with some of their earlier cases.”

“But that’s unconscionable!”

The head smiled thinly. “I rather thought so myself.”

“And after they regrew the arm, they thought they’d experiment with heads, and … ?”

“Oh, no,” said the second head. “It was just that the regrowing of limbs can have certain unfortunate side effects. But then, two heads are better than one, they say.”

“But if it was then that you grew, then how can you–well, for the love of heaven, you seem to be very nearly a different person than Hedeby! And in the weeks I’ve known Hedeby, I had always assumed you were completely insensible! Where did you come from?”

“From Edwin and Mathilda Hedeby,” the head replied. “I am, of course, the original head.”

The healthy head snored peacefully, and as Ruggs watched, the sickly one turned and regarded it with a kind of brotherly hate.

Observations in the Field

by Rudi Dornemann

Marcus hiked out before dawn, over snow with just enough ice on top that it held his weight for nearly a second before he crunched through. He got the robotic crow into the tree well before dawn.

The flock of real crows came up from the river while the sky was still predawn pink, and alighted in the next tree over. The robot issued its preliminary croak. Marcus held his breath for the flock’s response. It never came — something spooked the birds. Wings slapping like applause, they disappeared into the forest dark.

Marcus swore and keyed “recall” on the control fob. The robot bird fluttered to his feet and went still. The cold metal stuck to his gloves as he put it back in the padded bag.

He walked out by way of Highway 212 — a longer, but easier route. He had time. Of all Halverson’s raven trials, the only ones that had worked had worked on the first encounter between wild birds and the robot mimic. Marcus hadn’t had a successful integration yet, on any encounter. He’d have to find a new flock, maybe nearer to Agriville, where there was more of a farm and forest mix… He was trotting along the on the frozen gravel shoulder when the beep of a car horn interrupted his thoughts.

A small car pulled alongside, and a frosted window purred down. The driver leaned across the empty passenger seat. He shouted, even though the engine only murmured softly, “I can drop you somewhere!”

“Sure,” said Marcus, and he climbed in.

The driver was friendly enough, and said his name was Larry. “What are you doing way out here,” he said, “and so early?”

“Research,” said Marcus. “Ornithology.” He wrestled his notebook from his back pocket to jot some notes while he still remembered details of the non-encounter.

Larry nodded sleepily; sipped a styrofoam cup of coffee. “I’m meeting some folks for breakfast in Winslip,” he said. “Denny’s.” Another sip. “Join us if you want.”

He sipped again, the exact same pursing of the lips, a forward tilt of the head to the exact same angle as the last sip. The kind of thing Marcus would never have noticed if he hadn’t spent the last eight months trying to program that kind of uncanny nearly-lifelike quality out of the crow.

“Sure,” said Marcus. “Breakfast sounds good.” He could take notes later.