

A Game of ChessWe played in a store— the perfect set of mannequins surrounded by glossymetallic curves and at least two vibrating chairs and children. Everyone moved at such high frequencies: salesmen walked by in fast-forward, one stopping to say 'No, don't move your knight there' before being pulled away by a customer, high-speed rattling, buzzing as fast as the filaments of lights, and there were stars above us, shining bright with the expectations of the masses crowding us until we popped cork-like and buoyant into this place and stopped and you said, let us play a game of chess. &nA Game of Chess


untitled"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said to me. "Go away, Indiana Jones, you're not real," I muttered under my breath. I didn't want them to hear me, and I didn't want to stir up the plaster dust around us. He grinned at me anyway, and nodded his head at the bowl in front of me. "You need to add more blood." "If I lose any more blood, I'll get weaker." His grin chesired wider. "Yeah, and I'll be more alive. Is that all that bad?" "I won't be able to climb any more." "Did you really plan on going down there more than one last time?" And we both felt the ice-crack of theuntitled
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In the end we shall achieve in time, a thing we call divine.
-- Spacehog
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