comrade

by nick nelson

illustrated by eddie el greco and konrad kraus

editorial consultant: Prof. Dan Leo

the war was over. the revolution had been won. power had been seized. the winter palace had been stormed, the control room had been broken into, and the people were dancing in the streets. the imperial family had fled. not that they would get very far. the bankers and the landlords and their lackeys had been strung up on lampposts all over the city. all that was left was the restructuring of society. carlos had called a meeting of the steering committee - the most trusted comrades who had been the hard hammering fists of the revolution - to divide the world into revolutionary districts and begin the planning of reeducating and reassigning the populace. the meeting was held in the former grand hall of the winter palace. the broken windows were open to the night sky. cold air poured through them. gallons of scalding hot revolutionary coffee had been brewed for the occasion. the meeting was about to begin when the unthinkable happened. carlos started to get sleepy. carlos, the burning firebrand who had kept his comrades on their toes through the long years of struggle. carlos the unquenchable, who could harangue crowds, defy hostile mobs, and argue the fine points of revolutionary theory for days at a time. carlos who was never caught napping by friend or foe. carlos who had ferreted out plot after plot against the people’s cause. often plots by the most cunningly disguised and embedded traitors. carlos who never slept. now the others looked on in shock as carlos suddenly stood up, passed his hand over his eyes and announced - “i - i have to lie down.” none looked more stunned than luis, his ever loyal lieutenant who had followed him around the world and fought a hundred battles by his side for the cause of the people. unless it was rosa - rosa the inflamer - the red goddess of defiance who had stood with carlos at a thousand barricades. luis seized carlos’s arm - to keep him from falling. he glanced back at the others. “it is only an attack of dizziness.” he cried. not that anyone had ever seen carlos experience so much as a spasm of dizziness before. “he will be all right in a minute.” “no,” gasped carlos. “i - i need to lie down. i need to lie down.” grasping carlos’s arm tighter, luis turned to the others. “start the meeting without us. breckenridge - take over. we will be back soon.” luis and carlos left the room. there was only stunned silence behind them. luis led carlos down the wide stairs of the palace . cold winds swirled around them. “a little fresh air is all you need, my friend,” luis assured carlos when they reached the bottom of the stairs. but at the door he hesitated. sounds of celebration from the street filled the lobby. “the people must not see you like this,” luis murmured. “you are right,” carlos muttered. he was making a great effort to stay awake. “the roof - i must get to the roof.” “a good idea,” luis agreed. “there must be elevators here.” after kicking through the debris of the previous day’s battle - including the corpses of several imperial guardsmen - they found a freight elevator. miraculously undamaged, ihe elevator took them to the roof. “leave me,” carlos told luis as they stepped out on to the roof. the celebrating, still burning city spread out forty stories below them in the darkness. “but - “ luis began. “leave me!” carlos commanded. luis left. there were some deck chairs on the roof and carlos sat down on an especially plush one - the emperor’s own?. he looked up at the sky. his comrades had always thought that carlos “almost never” slept. they had never realized he never slept at all. not because of some freak of nature, or because of his iron will. but because he had bargained his soul to a fallen angel, a colleague of lucifer’s named carrasco. now he looked around to make sure that luis had not returned, and that nobody else was on the roof. he took a little packet of powder from his pocket, sprinkled a little at his feet and lit it, summoning the demon. carrasco appeared immediately, with the hint of a smirk on his face. carlos did not waste words. “we had a bargain,” he told the demon. “indeed we did.” “that i would stay awake until the revolution succeeded. that i would not sleep until the revolution was over.” carrasco pointed down at the celebration in the streets. “and you have succeeded, my friend. are you not sitting in the emperor’s own chair? is his palace not yours?” “but the revolution has only begun! we must cleanse the world of reactionaries! we must educate the people! restructure the basis of human society! build a new world!” the demon shrugged. “that is not my understanding of the word ’succeed’. according to my understanding you have succeeded very well. and besides -“ he smiled, “do you not trust your comrades to go on without you? can you not rest a bit?” “the people need me!” carlos cried. “the revolution needs a strong hand - mine! mine! this was not my understanding of our bargain.” “but it was mine - and it is mine that counts.” the demon shook his head. “you need a long rest, comrade. a long rest. what do you say to ten years of rest?” carlos slumped in the emperor’s chair. he felt a great weariness. “well - if i must. if only - if only i could be sure of the others …” carrasco laughed - a loud, mocking laugh that echoed in the night. “as to that, my friend, i am afraid i can give you no assurance - none at all… in fact less than none at all… ha, ha! “ carlos started up. “what! what say you?” “yes, you have been betrayed. cruelly betrayed. there are those among you - in your innermost circle - who are the tools of your enemies! you think you have hanged the bankers, the landlords, the reactionaries - but they lie in wait… they are everywhere… ready to return at the first signal…” “the signal from whom?” carlos gasped. “breckenridge.” “breckenridge! that blue-eyed gringo bastard! i knew i should never have trusted him!” the demon laughed again. “indeed. and who was it, when you suspected breckenridge, persuaded you of his loyalty?” “it was - rosa!” “exactly. ha, ha, ha! you poor fool! playing your role in the oldest story in the book! ” “and - and luis? what of luis?” “oh, luis is loyal. but he will be no match for rosa and breckenridge.” and with that the fallen angel vanished into the air. “no!” cried carlos. “no!” but already he felt deep, black sleep descending upon him. he staggered to the edge of the roof. “no!” he cried again. he looked down. and fell. he fell a long way. ***

buddies

by chuck leary

illustrated by danny delacroix

editorial consultant: Prof. Dan Leo

buzz was the first bozo in the bunkhouse to hear the broadcast that the boys were all getting new buddies. nobody knew why. or seemed to much care. booboo and bertram were sad that they were going to be broken up, but they did not show it because they knew the others would laugh at them. buzz was a little bit sad. he had liked all the other bozos but none of them had liked him much or paid much attention to him. so maybe when he had a whole new set of buddies he would find one who liked him a bit more. that was the way he looked at it. bunky, who was into astrology, said that they were being broken up because betelgeuse was moving into the seventh house of aries or something like that. nobody agreed or disagreed with him. they all had other interests. they were a diverse, branched-off bunch. bunky was a devoted student of astrology. billy was a serious student of the natural history of primates, especially gelada and olive baboons. bert wrote epic poems about notorious bandits and conquerors of the universe. bruce was a baseball fan. boris could talk for hours - if anybody had wanted to listen - about the various religions of the world. booboo did crossword puzzles and bertram studied chess and musical scores - though of course playing music was strictly forbidden on their level. booboo and bertram were the only two in the group who seriously dreamed of moving up to the next level, so this gave them something in common. basher, brandon, and bo were all interested in the same subject - women. but as their approaches diverged sharply, the common interest did not create any particular bond between them. basher studied the ancient history of women. brandon studied their psychology, especially the most up to date findings. brandon and basher accepted that their studies were academic and that they would never actually encounter any human females. bo was not so circumspect. he studied the history of the recent colonizations and the biological revolutions. he also dropped enough hints to the others as to be flaunting the fact that he dreamed of some day belonging to the forbidden brotherhood which dreamed of breaching the male-female barrier. but as they were all a good bunch of guys nobody snitched on him. buzz was the dullest and dreamiest of the boys. mostly he wrote little cartoons in a notebook he carried around with him. but what he was really doing was studying the other boys as unobtrusively as possible and wondering what it would be like to be them. that night they would eat their last meal together. it was wednesday, so they would have chef boyardee beefaroni, with boiled beets and brussels sprouts. with banana pudding for dessert. bert, bruce, and buzz decided to go for a walk along the beach, before the sun went down. a light breeze ruffled the waves. they came to an abandoned basketball court. with one hoop, which sagged at a 135 degree angle. after kicking around in the sand, bert uncovered a dirty, somewhat deflated old ball. bert and bruce decided to play a little horse. buzz, who was not very athletic, sat and watched them for a while, and then dozed off. when he woke up bert and bruce were gone, and it had gotten dark. buzz felt there would be some banana pudding, at least, left over whenever he got back so he walked a little further down the beach. he looked out over the water but he did not see any blue whales, or even any barracudas. he came to a blanket stretched out neatly on the sand. it was old and tattered and looked like nobody had sat on it for a thousand years. it seemed strange that the wind had never blown it away. ***

angel

by emily de villaincourt

illustrated by konrad kraus

editorial consultant: Prof. Dan Leo

amanda had one idea. she wanted to find a fallen angel and save it. it was the only way she could make up for her own terrible sins, and not be dragged off to hell herself. every night, after a long day of cleaning rest rooms in a ninety-one story office building, amanda walked the dark streets and alleys of the great city, looking for an abandoned angel. as the city was very large and dark, she rarely went down the same street twice in her travels, and her fellow humans paid her little notice. but a couple of demons, who were more perspicacious and alert, noticed amanda one night . the demons’ names were moloch baalovich and alexander sergeyevich. they were sitting in a burger king, beside the window with a good view of the street and the people passing by outside, when they saw amanda with her empty shopping cart. moloch baalovich had noticed amanda before, always with her shopping cart empty. “i wonder why that human walks around with a shopping cart when she never puts anything in it,” he mused absently. “i know,” alexander sergeyevich replied. “because she walks the streets all night looking for an angel with broken wings, that she will put in the cart, take home with her —“ “does she have a home?” “yes, in the basement of the ninety-one story office building she cleans the rest rooms in.” “just asking. and then what?” “she will nurse the angel back to health, and when the angel flies back to heaven, it will put in a good word for her and she will not be dragged down into the bottomless pit as she so richly deserves.” and both demons had a good chuckle at the folly of humans. “i have an idea,” moloch baalovich said, “ for a good laugh.” “and what might that be?” asked alexander sergeyevich. moloch baalovich did not answer directly but pointed to another demon, cleopatra osirisevna, who was seated a couple of tables away greedily devouring a mushroom burger with spicy fries. “cleopatra osirisevna!” moloch baalovich cried. “i have a favor to ask of you. but i think you will enjoy it.” “i doubt it,” she replied sulkily, after swallowing a mouthful of fries, “but what is it that you wish?” “come, cleopatra osirisevna, you know you owe me one.” moloch baalovich described the situation of the wandering sinner amanda, and concluded by saying - “ “you will impersonate an angel and she will find you, pathetic and broken-winged in an alley. she will take you home, but instead of you healing and flying away, you will remain on her hands for long years - long for them, short for you - and instead of becoming more angelic, you will become more demanding as the years go by, eventually revealing your true nature as a demon. a merry jest!” “but,” interrupted alexander sergeyevich, “ this is behavior humans are all too used to. it is what they usually get from their own children.” moloch baalovich brushed this aside. “will you do it, cleopatra osirisevna? it is only a couple of dozen years out of your billions?” cleopatra osirisevna slurped down the last dregs of her strawberry smoothie. “very well. i will do it. but then we are quits, moloch baalovich.” and so it came about that on the next night the unsuspecting amanda discovered cleopatra osirisevna , in the guise of a golden-haired child with two broken pink wings, in an alley beside a bustlingly busy hooter’s. amanda put cleopatra osirisevna in the shopping cart and took her through the streets to her little room in the basement of the 12207 washington st building. the years went by. cleopatra osirisevna, now called “lucy” by amanda, followed the letter if not always the spirit, of moloch balovich’s humorous plan. she tortured poor amanda a good part of the time, but also spent long hours just staring at the ceiling of the little room, and daydreaming, impervious to amanda’s tender ministrations. but then fate stepped in, in the form of the new and most evil empress, katerina iii caligovna, who instigated a new and terrible persecution against the old believers. amanda was denounced by a member of the custodial staff at 12207 washington st, who had long resented her as “thinking she knows everything”. amanda was thrown into one of the empress katerina’s gleaming new interrogation centers. cleopatra osirisevna aka lucy was arrested by the special police along with amanda, but feeling that the game had gone on long enough and that she had fulfilled her bargain with moloch baalovich, she briefly explained to amanda who she really was, resumed her demon’s form, walked unmolested through the corridors of the interrogation center, and disappeared into the night. with her beloved lucy gone, amanda fell into despair, but was determined to embrace martyrdom. at this point the accounts of different chroniclers diverge, and the details of amanda’s end on this unfortunate earth are unclear. bishop unwin states unequivocally that she was admitted to the host of saints after enduring the most terrible tortures with smiling resolve. but sister agatha denise in her “history of the most recent persecution” simply states that amanda was numbered among the slain. professor davis in his account - the most exhaustive and heavily annotated - does not even mention amanda. ***

zephyr

by nicolette nelson

illustrated by konrad kraus

zorina and aaron did not really like each other very much, but they stayed married for thirty-three years, because neither of them wanted to upset their parents by divorcing or getting separated. aaron worked in the sales and marketing department of a company that manufactured parts for electric can openers and for similar devices with strictly industrial use. it was a very demanding and exhausting job that required that he keep track of a million things, and he resented the fact that no one appreciated him, or took any interest in the details of his day to day existence. zorina had been a waitress and hostess at a large chain restaurant, but never worked after their marriage. this was in accordance with the unexpressed but clear desires of both their sets of parents. in the first days of their marriage, zorina made a pretense of interest in aaron’s job, but she gave up after a few weeks. zorina dreamed of being a great and famous artist of some kind. she could not decide if she wanted to be a painter, a novelist, a poet, a songwriter, a filmmaker, or a conceptual artist. when she made a few references to her dreams to aaron, he snickered. “yes, everybody wants to be famous,” was his only comment. zorina’s dreams were never mentioned again. nor did she make any attempt to act on them - despite the time she had on her hands - for fear of arousing aaron’s ridicule. neither aaron nor zorina were gourmets. aaron ate in the cafeteria at work - often three meals as he increasingly worked long hours. zorina mostly ate at, or got takeout from, dunkin donuts or mcdonalds or domino’s. so zorina’s days drifted by, mostly watching television and reading detective and romance novels. finally aaron dropped dead at work. his death was ruled a heart attack, but his parents were convinced zorina had somehow killed him and they asked the police to investigate. the police told them they could find no evidence that aaron’s death was from anything but natural causes. aaron had not made a will. there was enough money left in their joint bank accounts for zorina to live for about two years. zorina was also eligible to receive some spousal social security benefits - at a reduced rate as she was not at “retirement age”, and a small social security benefit from her own distant days of employment. rather than look for a job, zorina decided to pursue her dream of becoming a famous artist or writer of some kind. she decided she would try painting first. if she was not successful after two years, she would write a novel. a week after aaron’s modest funeral, zorina went to an arts supply store and made a number of purchases. the store was in a section of the city she was not familiar with. the clerk in the store was a polite young man who answered all her questions about what she needed with a friendly smile and many helpful suggestions. a week later she went back to the store, and although the friendly young man was not there , and had been replaced by a surly young woman dressed in black, she made some more purchases. as she was reaching into her purse for her car keys, she heard a voice behind her. “estelle!” as her name was not estelle, she did not turn around. suddenly her arm was grabbed from behind. she almost dropped the bag of art supplies she had tucked under her arm. zorina turned and saw a man she had never seen before, a man about her own age, with a pale angry face and the long white hair and droopy mustache of the proverbial “aging hippie.” “don’t know me, huh, estelle?” the man shouted. “it’s been a long time, i grant you that.” the situation was so ridiculous zorina was not the least bit frightened. besides, there were a number of people passing by, in the street filled with respectable businesses. “i’m sorry, sir, but you are mistaking me - “ “bullshit! i thought i saw you here last week. i almost gave up seeing you again, but here you are. you fucking bitch!” zorina looked around. surely someone would come to her aid, and tell the man he was out of line. the man took a gun out of the waistband of his pants - it had been concealed beneath his red and yellow hawaiian shirt - and shot zorina in the chest. several witnesses called 911. the police and an ambulance arrived in three minutes, while the gumnan stood over zorina, sobbing like a child. the gun lay on the sidewalk beside him where he had immediately dropped it. zorina died in the ambulance. the police quickly determined that it was indeed a case of mistaken identity and that there had been no connection between zorina and the gunman, whose name was roger davison. “estelle” was tracked down seven hundred miles away, a grandmother taking care of her wayward daughter’s three children. aaron’s parents were having none of it. they were more convinced than ever that zorina, in collusion with her lover roger davison, had murdered aaron. when they got no satisfaction from the police or the district attorney, they hired a private detective to investigate aaron’s death. ***