Dead Dwarves Don't Dance by Derek J. Canyon

Author:Derek J. Canyon [Canyon, Derek J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 9781475274509
Amazon: 1475274505
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2012-05-07T04:00:00+00:00

38

The dilapidated Carter Presidential Center just off Highway 23 was only a couple miles away from Emory University. He parked on the sleepy street and walked toward the twentieth-century building, noting the lack of unbroken windows. The Center was one of Decatur’s few eyesores, but it was a memorable one. Somehow, the building had survived the fall of the United States, multiple fires, a terrorist bombing, a plane crash, and four Regional Police sieges. The CPC was renowned as the unluckiest building in the city, and the more superstitious folk kept their distance from it. The lone current inhabitant paid no heed to rumors about the building’s supernatural problems. In fact, she was probably responsible for most of the recent rumors.

Noose strode through the doorway and into the rubble-strewn lobby, dimly illuminated by faded neon graffiti. One wall featured a coruscating graffiti depiction a former United Globe Secretary General with farm animals. Noose shook his head and wondered if sheep could actually assume that position.

The dwarf continued deeper into the center, passing by rooms gutted by fire, violence, and destruction. Ducking under the wing of the crashed Boeing 877 that still remained inside the building, Noose found a stairway. He walked up to the third floor and pushed through a pair of large doors.

The room beyond was large and tall, the ceiling partially fallen, the first faint tendrils of a dim morning sky showing through. Candles glittered on rotting tables, chairs, and other furniture. Someone had pasted dozens of old newspapers and magazines to the walls.

Noose scanned the dim room and saw several bird nests, empty now while their occupants scoured the night for prey. Looking across to a large, ornate chair, the dwarf saw the object of his search.

“Seeking in the night, Ichabod Krakower?”

Noose maneuvered through the scattered furniture and debris until he stood only a few meters from the woman in the chair. She wore robes of faded, multicolored hues, with some scintillating vidcloth amongst the normal fabrics. The voluminous robes did not conceal her massive girth. Thick pudgy hands poked out from sleeves, the squat fingers resting motionless on the arms of the chair. Long white hair flowed from beneath the shawl around her head, and deep wrinkles scored her face. Her eyes, however, blinked big and round, full of keen insight and curiosity.

“Just call me Noose, Sweetpea.”

“I shall call you by your real name, Ichabod,” the psyker named Sweetpea replied, “for any other name you may choose to use does not provide a true window into your soul.”

“Ichabod Krakower is a name some corporate geneticist gave me when they pulled me from the vat. It ain’t mine. I didn’t choose it.”

“Our creators have a strong influence on our identities. But perhaps you are correct that scientists aren’t the sole architects of our destinies.”

“Why do you always have to start with this philosophical Grand Prophet Jinjugi crap whenever I come to see you?”

Sweetpea laughed, and her thick jowls quivered. “I only seek to enlighten you, young one.”

“That’s fine, but I’d prefer that you enlighten me on subjects of interest.

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