October

Issue 25

         The blue ectoplasmic existence swirls around him like gasoline in a puddle, whites and purples and greens cascading from its folds and ripples.  The Overseer, a sleek, bulbous mass of tentacles and elegance, hovers above and to his left, waiting to give the order.  Dropping his gaze to the single square platform below his feet, the runner loosens his muscles and readies for the long dash ahead.

         Do you understand the rules, runner?

         "Yes."

         Are you prepared to face the Gap?

         "Yes."

         "I'm going to free us, Mother," he said, bending down to look his mother in the eye.

         "Oh, Quaid," she replied, scolding him with her fiery blue eyes.  "Don't talk such nonsense."

         "I'm going to race the Gap.  The Overseers say any slaves who beat it automatically win their freedom.  We'll be able to go wherever we want!  Do whatever we think of!"

         "How do you think they can offer you freedom, Quaid?" his mother said, her arm trying in vain to rise from its resting place on the padded black armrest of her chair.  "No one ever wins, that's how!  Don't you do it, Quaid!  I won't allow it!"

         "I've already signed up, Mother," Quaid said.  "I begin training next week."