by D.X. Machina

"I've never been so alone, and I've never been so alive."
--Third Eye Blind
 

Sarah Kensington
Interstate 94 Eastbound
Minneapolis, Minnesota

Neither Kelly nor I talked a lot on the ride home. Well, it had been a pretty busy day, and we were both ready for bed. Tomorrow was Saturday, and I was planning on studying (my weekends are very exciting, you know).

All in all, it had been a pretty dispiriting night, and as we pulled into the parking lot at Middlebrook, I was looking forward to take a shower and hitting the sack, and sorting out my life.

We reached our floor, and stepped out of the elevators, only to run smack dab into a slightly drunk Kyle. “Hey...Sar! Kell! Jordan’s got some Vodka, and I got some beers--why’n’cha come on over? I’m just goin’ to pick up the pizza.”

I considered, and decided that really, more even then sleep, I needed a drink.

“We’ll be over in five minutes,” I said.

* * *

D.X. Machina
The Home of Teri Rowland
Uptown
Minneapolis, Minnesota

My dreams were filled with her. They were always filled with her. Sometimes I was full-sized, like I was the first time I saw her--she, a Titian-haired beauty with forest green eyes and a permanent frown. Sometimes she was standing over me, ready to execute my for a crime I had never committed.

Tonight, I was sitting on her desk, and she was enjoying a moment of lucidity. “Little One, you’ve found your other love, haven’t you?”

“Liz, you know you’re my first, my only love.”

She shook her head, sweetly, and said, “You’re wrong on both counts, Little One. Teri was your first, and I’m one of two.”

“But Liz--”

“No buts, Jake. It’s been six years. You have to let me go.”

Her eyes were full of tears as she said it. “Jake, I love you--I always loved you when I was sane. But I wasn’t sane often, and I’m not around any more. There’s no way we could be together forever. You’ve got to move on.”

“Liz--”

But she was getting up from the desk, her beautiful, pale skin luminescent. She was leaving.

* * *

Anonymous
Somewhere in Minnesota

The young woman was dozing off. I tried to get a read on her age: Nineteen? Twenty? Maybe a little older? Damn it, it’s hard to tell when you’re less than an inch tall, looking in the dark of night from a nightstand three hundred feet away.

I was starting to get a sense of her, though. She wasn’t the older sister I had thought; she was a mother. At least, that was how it seemed. So much the better. A mother would have some responsiblility, some intelligence; I could count on no such thing from a random fifteen year old.

Suddenly, I head a noise. The door swung open, and the little girl walked in. “MOMMY,” she cried, proving my hypothesis, “I NEED A GLASS OF WATER.”

The woman stirred, “OKAY, BRITT, JUST A SECOND.” She reached right towards me, her hand sweeping over the surface of the nightstand, searching for something. Abruptly, it changed direction, heading right towards me. I was tossed buy the advancing gust of wind into the air, landing suddenly on a hard, glassy surface. I realized immediately what it was--a pair of glasses.

The woman grabbed them and lifted them into the air. I watched in horror as the ground beneath me moved away, distorted and disjointed through the lenses. Then the ground began to tilt as the young woman placed the spectacles on her face. I dropped onto her cheek, and began to slide. I clawed at the air in a futile effort to gain some kind of hold, but I was skidding quickly.

Then, without warning, her fingers swept unconsciously across her cheek, pushing me all the way to the edge of her hair. I held on for my life as she rose and began to walk

I had some appreciation for D.X.--he had survived for months in this state. I was but a few hours into it, and already I feared I would soon be doomed.

I held onto her short, dirty blonde hair as we walked into the kitchen. She pulled two glasses out, and walked over to the freezer to pick up an ice tray. I was struggling; I was not used to this, and her hair was oily with the residue of a day’s wear and tear. As she leaned over the glasses, dropping ice into them, I lost my grip, and fell.

I fell a long, long way, landing on the hard, cold ice below. I winced with the impact; tiny people don’t get as easily damaged as they would at full size, but they’re not invincible; I hurt all over. And worst of all, I knew what was coming.

The glass was lifted roughly, and the water cascaded down around me. I was fortunate--she stopped just below the level of the ice cube I rested on; the water below me frothed and churned, but it was below me; had I been trapped beneath the surface tension, I never would have broken free.

She lifed the glass roughly, again, and suddenly, I was dropping; she was handing me off to her daughter.

* * *

Veronica Ceres
Airport Hilton
Bloomington, Minnesota

I stared out the window, trying to make sense of the evening. It seemed surreal; D.X. had me where he wanted me, he had his chance for revenge. Why didn’t he strike?

He couldn’t seriously think I’d help him, could he? I mean, we’d fought about as bitterly as any two people in history. Why did he think I’d come over to his side?

What the Hell was his side, anyway?

Wait--he fought against everyone. Well, how fun. Can I join? I don’t have nearly enough strife in my life.

I sighed, and looked at my reflection. Is this what old radicals look like? The permanent frown lines, the dead eyes, the graying hair? I’m not even forty yet--but I look it. I sighed.

I was getting tired of it all; tired of fighting, tired of battling, tired of having to be right all the time.

But--the Cadre would never surrender. And until they did--

I couldn’t leave the League. Not yet.

Not until I was sure D.X. could prevail.

* * *

Teri Rowland
The Apartment of Teri Rowland
Uptown
Minneapolis

He came out into the living room, where the remains of the dollhouse still sat, in dust and disarray. We stood there a while, just looking at each other, neither of us sure what to say. It had been but a day before that I had held him in the palm of my hand. I had ultimate control of him, he was mine, forever.

I thought so, anyhow.

But here he was, an even six feet, a slightly receding hairline, those deep grey eyes that always looked right through me, into my soul.

We’d known each other since ancient times. Our souls were bound together.

So why didn’t I see this coming?

After an eternity, he said, very slowly, “Teri...I love you.”

I started to reply, a reply somewhere between angry and exhausted and sorrowful, but he stopped me.

“And because I love you, I have to tell you the story of why I left, and why I became the man I am today. It’s long, and it’s not so nice in spots, and only one living person knows all of it. Hear me out, and if you want me to leave when I’m done, just let me know.”

And he began to tell me the story of his other love, his live, his Liz. Her beauty and her power and her madness. And he was right: it was not a nice story, and it didn’t have a happy ending.

And I was wrong: he didn’t owe me the explanation. But by the end of the story, when he began to cry, I walked over to his chair and I wrapped my arms around him and let him cry, deep, deep into the night.

* * *

Anonymous

The journey to the little girl’s room was unsettling, at best. The ice cube pitched hard in the cold, dark water, clutched unsteadily in the two hands of a young girl. I have a strong constitution, but I was grateful when we stopped moving; I was beginning to get a little seasick.

I do not know why, but it had not dawned on me that the little girl would actually drink the water. I was in such shock that any sort of forethought had escaped me. As the glass titled up, I realized that this lack of consideration was a very bad thing, indeed.

I saw the girl’s lips approaching rapidly; I tried to cling to the ice cube, but it was beginning to melt, and it was too slick to provide any sort of handhold. I thought myself doomed, until I realized that I was forgetting my physics; the surface tension of the water would provide me a springboard.

It was risky, but I pulled it off nicely, if I do say so myself. As the water began to spill over the edge of the rim, I leapt with all of my strength, landing on the upper lip of the girl. I thought myself safe, until a huge tidal wave struck me, knocking me from my perch and into the dark.

I fell for a time, until I landed in a huge forest of fibers. At first, I thought I had landed in the carpet, until I felt the ground moving. I held on for dear life as I saw the world reorient and invert. I was suspended upside down as I saw the little girl rapidly approaching.

I realized where I was as I was smushed between her chest and her stuffed lion. The pressure was strong, but so was the beat of her heart behind me. I sighed; it was as good a place as any to sleep; tomorrow, I would try to find my way back to her mother.

* * *

Scott Chelgren
The Apartment of Ginny Snider and Mira Swenson
Minneapolis

They say that before you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. It’s not exactly true; only part of your life does. Just the relevant parts of your life do. Like the time I was two, and my mom tried to tell me that my dad could never come home again; walking through the Sculpture Garden with Mira on a perfect summer evening, holding her hand and thinking I could see forever into the future; watching the cancer eat mom up from the inside while I sat by, helpless to do anything; having one too many drinks with Ginny, and waking up beside her, confused and ashamed; standing in stark terror on the floor of a restroom at Apple Valley High School, as a beautiful, gigantic girl stared down at me in disbelief; standing in terror on the floor of First Ave as that beautiful, gigantic girl slowly walked away.

And then, just as the fabric of Ginny’s skirt was nearly touching me, a miracle happened.

Ginny broke wind.

The sudden blast took me and propelled me out away from the chair. I tumbled end over end, suddenly dropping into the waste basket.

I blinked a few times. I was alive! And what’s more, Ginny hadn’t seen me!

I laughed for a while, not even caring about the waste around me, and when I began to notice it, I laughed more; I hadn’t eaten in two days.

I didn’t know how I was getting out of this apartment, but for the moment, I didn’t care; I was as free as I’d been.

* * *

Sarah Kensington

I awoke slowly, my head pounding. What the Hell had happened last night? Oh yeah, drinking 151 in Jordan and Kyle’s room, eating bad Domino’s pizza. Jordan went off to find his girlfriend, Amber, and then Kelly left, and Kyle and I....

Oh fuck.

I closed my eyes, and reached to my right, hoping against hope that I wouldn’t find what I knew I’d find.

Kyle, asleep, naked.

Not an unpleasant sight, mind you.

Just an unbelievable complication.