Quantum Marlowe by Glenn Lazar Roberts

Author:Glenn Lazar Roberts
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: multiple dimensions, religious artifacts, parallel universes, quantum mechanics, mad scientists, noir detective, stolen treasure
Publisher: TWB Press

CHAPTER 20

In the beginning, God said The Word and created the Universe. What posterity missed was that he changed his mind in mid-sentence because he had uttered the wrong word. “Wait a minute, I really meant to say...” But it was too late. The Universe was done. And done with one lousy word, without even the usual common-sense conditioners and qualifiers that normally come with a complete thought.

So now we have a world filled with spades, chinks, spics, dagos, guineas, gippos, huns, jigaboos, wops, wogs, flips, frogs, gringos, gooks, goys, golliwogs, micks, crackers, rednecks, kaffirs, kikes, yids, shylocks, crips, bloods, zips, krauts, limeys, pakis, squaw-jumpers, fuzzy-wuzzies, and Congolese jungle bunnies from the remotest plantations of Tarzan-land. But who am I to judge? I'm just a Blarney-Stone-kissing, paddy-wagon riding, bad-check-writing, snowy-mountain-spelunking Irish-Amerikanski refugee from the jungles of Babylonian Brooklyn, the city that killed Cyrus and dug Swan, and spread dodgers and goombas over the rest of the country like Santa Claus with Ebola.

But hell if I would take a bus.

Andrew's bus ticket read: One way – Ciudad Juarez. I snorted. No way, Mayor José. I had my own transportation, and after a not-so-quick thumb ride from a couple of pill-hopped highwaymen who thought they were cruising the interstate from Mars to Jupiter, I was soon back in Oriental-land where the clothes dryers and chemical cleaners revolved with the certainty of the sun. Thank Thor the Queen of Cheena wasn't in, and with a smart crawl under the barbed wires of the DMZ, I managed to locate my locker and smuggle out the keys to my antique Oldsmobile and motor it away before I found myself in yet another ground war in Asia.

It was night, so why not? I paused at one of the Irish bars and threw back a White Zombie. This time I couldn't resist and followed it with a Singapore Sling, then a shot-glass of the wormiest Tequila the bar could find just to fortify me for wrestling with taco-goons south of the Big Ditch. Then, after removing my suit and folding it on the front seat, I stretched full-out on the back seat of my car and instantly entered a wonderland of bank vaults and women's changing rooms where no one could see the Invisible Man as I wandered open-eyed and smiling, except for the Chosen One who happily followed me to realms that were even more private.

The next morning, I came back to this universe and prepared for the task ahead. I had reluctantly picked up M&M's fucking bus ticket the day before and now, slowly and deliberately, I placed it under one wheel of my car. Slowly and deliberately, I drove over it.

I didn't stop until I was well out of Albuquerque, the afternoon sun glittering off the peeling green paint of my hood as I purred south in my 'rental' from Honest Juan, wondering suddenly how the hell I would cross the border without a passport. Then I remembered. Montez & Muck crossed borders from

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