VOLUME INDEX



How Vex Harrow met Cory Doctorow.

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Audio adaptation read by Paul Parkinson mp3 available here (mirror).

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Hello Cory by Kyt Dotson is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.


 
 
 




His eyes flickered downward for a moment and then back up again. “So I see.”

I glanced down myself and noticed that I was currently exceeding the speed limit by more than twenty miles per hour—edging dangerously close to reckless driving territory. When threatened, like any good citizen driver, I realize that I instinctually increase speed. My cab is a police auction refit, a Crown Victoria interceptor with the engine “fixed” back to its suped-up condition. She’s capable of faster speeds than that without skipping a beat. And I had to know right then if I was going to need it.

“Who did you piss off?”

“The MAFIAA.”

I’d heard that acronym before, but I don’t run in quite the right circles to fully grasp its significance. Elaine would rant about how they were collectively destroying music and movies and treated everyone like criminals.

He went on. “The MPAA and the RIAA will certainly want to intercept me. This is why I’ve been traveling by night with the camouflaged balloon. I had to leave it a few miles back.” An expression of sorrow crossed his face. “I figured that I was flying in the right direction, but I lost my star fix and had to slow down to get my bearings. That’s when they fell upon me. Dark shapes like wicked fingers slashed out of the night from all directions, I tried to out run them with the phlogiston overdrive…but the fiends had struck the boiler and then it ruptured.”

He went silent for a moment, shaking his head with disgust.

“I’m sure you noticed the wreckage. I had to leave it behind. It is imperative that I reach the headquarters of the EFF in San Diego as soon as possible. This satchel contains vital information that will allow us to strike at the very heart of the MAFIAA. I suspect they would do anything to get their hands on it.”

In the distance, I could just make out the outlines of another vehicle gaining on us. At this point I was orange-needle into the red at almost one hundred miles per hour, so the vehicular owner of the sallow viridian headlamps must have been gunning at least one hundred and twenty.

“We have company,” I said and indicated that he glance out the back window.

As he did, I checked the fuel gauge—I had enough fuel to keep up an even greater speed long enough to reach civilization. Which, at the current rate of acceleration, I figured we were due to barrel through some stoplight, hell bent for leather. The wards on the taxi flared to life, I could feel them bristling, coiling like vipers in preparation to strike.

The engine roared as the turbocharger kicked in and the wind howled, but still the ominous green headlights paced us and continued to gain. A challenge. Once again a fare had been dropped in my lap who required extraordinary aid, and perhaps serendipity or fate had placed us together. Of course, far be it from me to give up on a fare who had a wallet full of green and a mission. Also, the people after him were violating my turf; some crimes must not go unpunished.

“I accept,” I said aloud.

“I don’t like the looks of that,” he said. His voice became serious and lined with steel. “If you would drop me off, I can fend for myself. I can ask you to go no further.”

I responded with steel of my own. “Nobody messes with my fares,” I said. “I’m not backing down. I might be able to out run them but if it comes to it, there may be a fight.”

“I’m not much use in a dust up…as much as I would like to pay those cretins back for damaging my ride,” he said. “But as for getting away, I have something that may help. Before I quit the ruin of my balloon I disconnected the phlogiston device…if you can hold them off for a few minutes, I can get it installed. It would provide us a celerity that even these fiends could not match.”

I nodded. It just so happened I had come prepared. You never know when you’re going to need extra firepower, so I had packed two wands in the glove compartment. Trying to keep eyes on the road at almost one hundred and ten miles an hour is difficult enough without fumbling in the dark, but I managed it without careening us off the road. Moments later I held the pair of newly minted wands: one made of cold iron and a quartz watch crystal; the other a standard oak twig taken from a very angry tree.

“Hold onto something,” I said. “This is going to get very rough. I hope you’re ready.”

The word “Ready!” had barely escaped his lips when I hit the brake and turned the wheel hard. For an ordinary vehicle, at the speed we were going, this would not be at all advisable. My taxi is no ordinary taxi. The loss of speed registered almost like a punch in the stomach as the world spun treacherously, tires squealed, and the scent of burning rubber filled the cabin. The green headlamps, and the car that owned them, overshot us at speed.

I pulled the parking break and exited the taxi—through the roof.


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