Apologies, my tens of readers for for late posting; extra busy at the moment.

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Fanaka was not a stupid man. He was a genius, in fact. And this, unfortunately was the problem – namely, that as a genius he knew a thousand more ways to be stupid; more paths to foolishness than the average person could even imagine.

Another aspect of not being stupid was that he deeply aware of the possibility that he was being foolish as he set up his anti-aircraft battery in Wellington Road, just outside the South Hertling Super Centre and across the street from the giant evil Pyramid that had risen from the ruins of what was once the North Hertling Mega Centre.

But smart or stupid, genius or fool, once a man has begun building a steam-powered anti-aircraft gun in a public road, there's no easy way to walk back from it.

Fanaka stood back a little to admire his handiwork. He nodded and smiled – not a happy smile, but a satisfied one. It would work. It would work perfectly. Once Ron fired his rocket, the AA gun would automatically spring into action and shoot it down. Additional AA emplacements around the Pyramid ensured three hundred and sixty degree protection. Carefully prepared labels on each of the guns misidentified them as art installations. Since most of the citizens of South Hertling would happily have walked a mile to avoid an art installation, Fanaka judged them safe from tampering. ...continue reading "Clocks and Boxes — Part 23: Downstage"

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The trick, Ron had thought, was to find a place too small for his purposes. That was very important. Once the people of this world had discovered that he was in the process of building a missile, they would inevitably search for him in all the places where such work might easily been done. The abandoned factory on Blackwood St or that new building at the Harrison company that hadn't been opened yet.

But Ron had fooled them all. By doing the work on his missile in the share-house room he slept in, he could work in peace. Granted, it made sleeping a little difficult, and his housemates often complained about the smell of C-4 and aviation fuel, but work was proceeding, albeit awkwardly.

Ron was lying on the floor, one leg twisted around a guidance fin, and reattaching a panel with a ratchet spanner when the door opened. It only opened halfway when it hit the side of the missile with a clang. ...continue reading "Clocks and Boxes — Interlude: Rocket"

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