They returned to the tenement as the comatose Bomb Midges were unceremoniously tossed on their cots. RuTing avoided the nurses. She couldn’t manifest illusions in the tenement. The air was too dry, but she waited until backs were turned and pulled Fintan along behind her.

  They hadn’t made many friends, but every day, more of the Bomb Midges failed to restore their original size. When that happened, the doctors wouldn’t give them any more serum, and they had to work in the fields.

  The nurses left her next-door neighbor's door open. RuTing knew her name, Sarah, but almost nothing else. Her room was identical to RuTing’s and Fintan’s in dimension, but Sarah shopped endlessly. Baskets of clothing and an assortment of items lay on the floor. The dry air had one benefit. The white film that dissolved everything in the afterlife corroded Sarah’s purchases slowly.

  When they passed by the door, Sarah lay on the floor in the pile of rubbish. The nurse hadn’t bothered to get her to bed. They left her like so much garbage.

  “We can help her,” Fintan said. His hand caught her sleeve. “We can at least get her on the bed.”

  There was no helping Sarah. RuTing had seen the like before. Fintan was naive, but his best quality was his heart. She’d been like that when her children were younger. You have to be practical when you juggle multiple responsibilities.

  Nevertheless, she followed Fintan. He lifted Sarah by the shoulders while RuTing lifted her legs. They had levels on their arms. Either one of them could have done it easily, but they needed to avoid the appearance of inhuman strength.

  They almost fell over backward when Sarah’s body floated like a feather in the wind.

  “She has almost no weight at all,” Fintan said. “I know they use them as bombs. Maybe this is how they get the catapult to work. Remember the bow?”

  “I remember,” she said.

  They crafted several bows. She was a capable shot. At close range, she could bullseye a target, but with their speed and power, they didn’t need a close-range weapon. She increased her range until she reached the upper limit of what should have been possible.

  She hit the bullseye every time until Fintan watched.

  When she started missing, she realized stray thoughts were affecting her ballistics. The longer the arrow was in the air, the worse the effect. It was more difficult to manifest solid objects the further they were away from you, but even a slight manifestation, like a change in pressure, moved the arrow off its mark. They abandoned the bow idea and focused on improving their clothing and other materials.

  “The Bomb Midges are guiding the bombs,” Fintan said.

  They never asked Sarah what the serum did to her mind. What it did to her body was bad enough.

  Fintan wrapped the miniature person in a blanket, and they left.

  The following morning, RuTing woke to screaming. Like all Bomb Midges, when Sara shrunk, her voice went up an octave. The screaming RuTing heard was Sarah’s voice, but it was distorted. She wasn’t yelling in pain. She was screaming words.

  RuTing put her hand on the door handle and twisted it open. Very slowly, she cracked the door while she listened. She wasn’t sure if she could add levels to her ears. Fintan’s hearing hadn’t improved when he added levels to his head.

  It was still early, and the first wave of Bomb Midges had already left.

  “I’ll pay you when I pay you!” Sarah yelled. Her door slammed shut.

  RuTing saw the shadow of someone big, and the resounding baritone matched the shadow. His voice was almost musical when he responded.

  “That’s not good enough,” he sang.

  “I’ll work on my back before I work the fields,” Sarah said. Her muffled reply was still clearly audible.

  “You know that’s illegal. It’s immoral and unethical.”

  “What’s so ethical about slaving all day picking berries?”

  “You have debts. Picking berries pays bills.”

  “I won’t do it.”

  “I won’t make you.”

  RuTing heard Sarah’s door open. With a bit of mist, she could have manifested an illusion or even a mirror to see what was happening, but all she could do was extrapolate.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  “You will turn me in if I don’t,” Sarah said. Her resignation was almost palpable.

  “You will never get flying serum again,” he responded. “I’m sure there are tests they can do on you until your debts are paid off. Or I see you in the fields.”

  “What choice do I have?” Sarah said.

  “It’s always your choice, but I will be watching.”

  The heavy steps walked away from Sarah’s door, and RuTing managed a hasty peak, catching a giant frame ramble away. He was an ogre, but he was deadly calm, and he sang to himself on the way out of the tenement.

  Fintan’s door had opened all the way from the commotion, and he walked past RuTing, scarcely aware she had cracked her door.

  He knocked on Sarah’s door, and RuTing followed, standing far enough away not to be noticed but to observe. When the door opened, she understood Sarah’s plight. Sarah was only three-fourths her normal size. The formula had altered her. They’d seen this before in the fields. Sarah had been wrung out.

  “I’m sorry,” Fintan said.

  “Sorry enough to give me credits?” Sarah asked bitterly. Fintan shook his head. At least he wasn’t that naive. “I won’t work in the fields close to the river.”

  “What are your alternatives?”

  “Other than being a lab experiment? None. I wasn’t a doctor in my previous life. I just aligned with the Monster because my boyfriend made me do it. I didn’t think he would be the only show in town after I died.”

  “There are other Gods,” RuTing said. How could Sarah be so weak?

  “Of course there are, but I don’t know anything about them. I thought I would remember more after I died. The Colonies stole my memories.”

  “If you work beside us, we will get you through it,” Fintan offered. Sarah wasn’t paying close attention. She was lost in her problems, so RuTing sent him a hefty frown. Her time in the Guannei taught her to hide her emotions, but Fintan needed the feedback. They had access to the library, but they didn’t plan on staying in Bannerburg. They needed to figure out their next step. Earning a million gilders wasn’t a solution, and even if it was, they couldn’t do it here.

  “I can make my own way,” Sarah said. Her door slammed shut, but not as hard as when she shut out the ogre.

  RuTing couldn’t do anything for Sarah, but she steered Fintan away from that disaster. After breakfast, they loaded into the petrol wagon that took them out of town to the fields.

  Since they couldn’t manifest any of the basics, they had to make purchases for every need. At the end of the day, the system kept them in the positive, but only barely. A few doctor's appointments would keep them in debt.

  Sarah followed them into the cart, but she didn’t say anything.

  They worked all day, picking fruits and vegetables and clearing land that fought to return to a state of nature overnight.

  While everyone else disappeared into their rooms from the labor, Fintan and RuTing returned to the library at dusk. Cherry was helping a doctor in an overly large lab coat. Both his hands gripped the solid wood lip of her counter, and his knuckles were white as his muscles clenched.

  Cherry caught RuTing’s eye and waved her to the map section. Usually, she would check them in, but her ever-present smile was strained.

  “I need to know when he’s going to return the scroll,” the doctor said. “How can I study Centaur Anatomy if I don’t know the fundamentals?”

  “All I can tell you is that it’s past due,” Cherry said.

  “And you told me its a ‘him,’” the doctor replied.

  “You inferred that,” Cherry said. “I didn’t say it was a ‘him.’”

  “I remember pronouns. You said ‘he’ still had it checked out. Don’t lie to me. You have a position here out of respect for your accomplishments. Your degree in Library Sciences is not accredited. I can have you removed.”

  “Not if you want any more scrolls,” Cherry said.

  “We’ve all seen it. We can reproduce your sewing machine and do it ourselves!”

  With the last shout, the doctor broke the lip off the heavy wood desk. He looked stunned at the splinters stuck in his hand.

  “I think you’ve had too much serum, doctor,” Cherry said. “Maybe you should confine your studies to the lab.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” the doctor said, but he was already retreating to the door.

  “I’ll send you a bill for the damages,” Cherry said. She followed him to the door and pulled the heavy double doors shut as soon as he left. She looked like she wanted to bar it, but that would defeat the purpose of a public library. She returned to her desk, where she snatched her foil to etch them into the records.

  Fintan was careful to avoid the confrontation. He’d learned his lesson from this morning. RuTing had reiterated a few times today why they should stay out of Sarah’s business. He hadn’t attempted to help Sarah throughout the day, and Sarah had stayed away from them in the fields.

  He had to understand that other people didn’t have the same motivations.

  “What was that all about?” RuTing asked.

  “Doctors want what they want,” Cherry said with a forced giggle, “but they aren’t going to get it from me. Only doctors can check out the scrolls, by the way. I think I covered that on the first day.”

  Fintan crossed the room to Cherry’s counter. The counter was solid oak, probably cut and planed and then stained to bring out the colors. The waxed surface didn’t show a hint of dissolution, but a large strip had splintered away. Fintan examined the wood, but RuTing could tell immediately it would take all her level-enhanced strength to break the shard. She was many times stronger, but it was thick wood.

  “How did he do this?” Fintan asked.

  “It’s all the serum,” Cherry said, taking the piece of wood from Fintan. She matched it up against the broken edge before sighing. Her bubbly laugh hid a lot of other emotions. When she turned around, her smile had returned. “It makes them strong and calm when they are ogres. If they’ve taken it too long, sometimes the strength returns with rage when they are normal-sized. It can be very dangerous to talk back to a doctor. You wouldn’t believe how often I have this replaced.”

  “Not for you,” RuTing said. Cherry had a special power over the doctor, and RuTing wanted to know what it was.

  RuTing expected, at best, an explanation. She thought her somewhat thorny exterior would frighten Cherry, but RuTing made a mistake. That was what the girl was used to. Cherry took her hand and pulled her to the back of the library. Fintan followed bemused.

  The librarian opened a door, revealing her prize. It sat on a table surrounded by a wealth of thread in silver, copper, and gold. Cherry had access to more resources in the afterlife than the mansions RuTing had seen in Zeusopolis.

  The machine was operated by a treadle under the table, and a half-finished scroll was in the process of being sewn with metal thread.

  “I call it a Swinger,” Cherry said. “I got the idea from an ancient design used for making clothing.”