A Magazine of Many Arts

The next day, Fay was taken out of school before lunch to go to a mental hospital. In her cooking class, she had held her right hand over the gas flame until the flesh blistered. She had not made any sound while doing it; the teacher’s slave had been the first to notice, and spent the rest of the day apologizing for her slow response.

Unharry picked me up from school as soon as it let out, instead of letting me take the trolley home as usual. Both Dad and Michelle were waiting for me in the car. As I rode home, the three of them grilled me. Was Fay having any new problems in school? Any sudden changes in her relationships with other kids? Did she seem less interested in her other activities? Had she talked to me about hurting herself? No, I said, no, no, no.

Then Michelle asked, “Does this have anything to do with Uncesar?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

Unharry and Michelle looked at each other. Somehow, I had betrayed my twin sister.

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I must have spent five minutes going through Michelle’s kitchen looking for a grocery bag.  As I searched, I felt the rubber band around my wrist, pulling on my body hairs. The kitchen smelled of grease and cigarette smoke. When I found the bag — on a hook on the closet door, near the recycling bin — the feel and the sound of the plastic made me feel strong, as strong as Fay had been, before she became enslaved.

It was 3:00 in the morning. I would have to go to sleep eventually. On waking up, I might remain William Berkman, honor student at Winter Hill Middle School. Or I might become Michelle Unwilliam Proudhon, the slave of Michelle Proudhon. Or I could choose to not wake up at all.

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The science quilt challenge has been postponed so we can do more publicity around it and get more entries.

I’m going to be at Arisia later on in the month.  Let me know if you’ll be there.  I’m looking into having some kind of get together, so let me know if you plan on being around.  I’m spending the next two weeks frantically working on my entries for the art show — you know, the way that I swore last year I was never going to do again?  I am most likely not going to do a masquerade entry this year, to avoid some of the insanity of last year.  Last year I was sewing etc. well past midnight every day for the three weeks preceding the con, only to have a masquerade entry that was eh and an art show display that was pretty lame.  Only as soon as I decided to skip the masquerade I finally figured out how to pull off the technical effect that had escaped me all year.

Next issue we will start a new story by Seth Gordon.  I’m looking for new artists to profile, so write me if you are interested or know someone interesting.