I know, lame excuse, but it is a valid one for the whole month of November... (cue ominous music) NANOWRIMO! Yes, that's my excuse for taking a break, wandering along the friend-thread to the back alley where words hang out, get high, interface with each other and expect me (and you) to sort out their mess.
I think I did it. The words that stumbled into me (and spilled my beer without offering to replace it... the nerve!) were Obscene, Loyal and Accident. It was an obscene accident for me to try to be loyal to my tweet buddy, the f*#@ing administrator of 3WW...
No, that wasn't my offering. This is it:
A Head to Get Ahead
Troy, her great-great-great-great (how many greats?) grandson placed her head, within its cryogenic acrylic-alloyed capsule gently upon the gurney. She had told her lawyer (how many centuries ago?) that the MacIntyres were fiercely loyal to the family name, and would do anything in the name of family—as long as there was an obscene amount of money involved. Troy proved her right by authorizing the opening of the hermetically sealed vault and ordering the thaw.
She raised her eyebrows (and savored the physicality of it!) at her descendant. He nodded once before turning away from her. Her nephew-to-the-fifth-power was carrying her head to the reattachment center! "Hey there… Troy, right?"
Her progeny's freckles flared the same orange as his curly head. No mistake, he was a MacIntyre. Troy mumbled, "Yes Ma'am?"
"Am I really getting a body today? Pinch me to make sure it's real!" She added, "Just kidding!" when his pale skin flushed. That shade of red looked painful.
"Oh, to walk again and have arms to hug you!" Troy flashed a tight-lipped smile. Jenny didn't notice. She was too happy just to hear her voice again.
"Can you imagine living—no, existing—with only your brain? I can imagine smell. Sure, there's a nose on my face, but I can't actually… smell. Do you know what I mean?"
He glanced left and right before answering, "Yes ma'am."
Jenny frowned just to feel her skin wrinkle and crinkle—amazing.
Troy cleared his throat. "Um, since the twenty-third century—"
"You mean the twenty-first century! I know, a long time ago." Jenny laughed. "In the twenty-FIRST century, Dr. Leon Poule perfected cryogen—"
Troy shook his head. "No, I'm talking about the twenty-THIRD century, when legislation allowed the use of cryogenically preserved brains to provide energy."
Jenny shivered at the ominous tone of his words (though she relished feeling her cheeks jiggle). "Energy? Whoa, slow down. Energy! Like batteries?"
Troy continued. "Thawed cryogenic brains can power and maintain all the lights, heat, electronics--heck, if you get the right adaptor, you can even power a transport--plus your home for a year on just one brain! Imagine!" Troy beamed at her.
"Do you know how excited I was to discover our family, The MacIntyres, actually inherited a cryogenic head?" Jenny heard his excitement. He pushed her gurney faster.
"I paid to be preserved to gain a body!" Jenny shouted.
"Aunt Jenny, you're more appreciated as a head. Trust…." He crashed into another gurney rounding a corner. "Aw, fuck ME!"
Jenny's head smacked against the weakened acrylic, the force tumbling her off the gurney and onto the composite tile floor. A zipping crackle zapped her right ear as she watched a zigzag line glide then crack wide in front of her face. She gulped for oxygen.
"No, no, no, No, NO!" was the second to the last phrase Jenny heard.
A squeaky female voice pleading, "I'm sorry! It was an accident!" was the last.