Recently I was reading Here & There, a science fiction novel by Joshua V. Scher.
Here & There is about the attempt to unravel and reconstruct exactly what happened during a teleportation experiment that went disastrously wrong.
No no, not wrong like that.
No, not wrong like that either.
There we go.
Anyway, because literally everything at the site of the experiment was obliterated, the novel (so far) mainly consists of transcripted notes, documents, surveillance video, audio recordings, and other such sources, making it an odd sort of hybrid of a “found footage” movie like The Blair Witch Project, a non-linear novel like Kurt Vonnegut’s Hocus Pocus, and a physics textbook. With arts and crafts.
Remi sat next to me. She had already finished weaving some purple and pink gimp into a tight box-stitch key chain and was currently working on the ever-elusive spiral stitch to make, of all things, a pulley system. A gimp show-off if you asked me. Still, it was impressive, and I found myself paying less and less attention to the bead necklace I was making.
By eleven thirty we had Remi’s pulley system anchored with a bag of marbles applying enough tension to the system to hoist a Ping-Pong paddle into the air. Meanwhile, my bead project was in a sad state that more closely resembled a three-day-old candy necklace ravaged by seagulls than a strand of colorful pearls. Mrs. Hoey, the altruistic liar that she was, suggested I take it home to finish up my beautiful start there.
Meanwhile, speaking of explosions, we have one in the scene I’m currently editing in Father’s Books. Or at least, we’re about to. It doesn’t involve teleportation though.
“Listen,” he said, backing away from the truck, “I realize this is a bad scene, okay? But you don’t have to blow yourself up. It was an accident. You must have insurance, right?”
The gas cap came off.
“Fuck the insurance,” the trucker said, dropping the flare into the tank.
Yeah, that trucker likes his insurance just about as well as the rest of us do …