The Chimera and the Shadowfox Griefer and Other Curious People by A. R. Morlan

Author:A. R. Morlan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: science fiction, dark fantasy, urban fantasy, tattoos, short stories
ISBN: science fiction
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2013-07-30T00:00:00+00:00

[SKIN] / (SKIN)

“The cure for boredom is curiosity.

There is no cure for curiosity.”

Ellen Parr

(Favorite quote from Adriane Dwyer [Class of ’76],

Nu-FACE page/Blackstone High School, Blackstone, CT)

“Winona Forever”

(Tattoo on actor Johnny Depp’s arm,

circa late twentieth century)

In her younger, human days, Alva looked forward to visits to the Tattoo Fairy (who was both real-real and a creature of her most vivid childish fantasies) more eagerly than visits from the not-real Tooth Fairy. True, in both cases, gifts were involved after the fact, but the one, five or ten (molars only) note tucked between her pillowcase and her hypoallergenic foam pillow come morning only went so far (with “far” being a trip to the Vend-It machine on the way to school, where a one-note might get her a Bubble-Ball, a five some Vita-Sip in a Recyci-Can, or the infrequent ten equaled either a Mini-Manga comic card for her Mac, or hi-pixel wallpaper for her cell)...while a scheduled, day-off from daycare/school/What HavU visit to the Tattoo Fairy meant so much more stash after each Addition or Deletion to her skin. True, she didn’t think she’d scored anything during her very first visits to the Federally-approved Tattoo Clinic, when she was so young she still wore an umbilical clamp on her navel, instead of two studs and a dangling chain, but once Alva was old enough to know what her parents meant when they told her about Additions (or a bit later on, Deletions), she learned to associate the routine of getting up on the high paper-covered long flat couch-like tattoo bed, pulling aside various pieces of clothing to expose her waiting skin, then feeling the so-cold-she-almost-needed-to-pee sensation of the cleaning/numbing agent being daubed on her skin with a wet piece of tong-held gauze, followed by instructions from her parents and the Tattoo Fairy to lie still, close her eyes if she had to, but definitely not move while the tattoo wand etched the latest identification information into her epidermis.

Once the Tattoo Fairy (always a woman, not the mystical winged creature of her imagination; early on, she’d learned that boys had male Tattoo Fairies, and not until much later did she learn that this was standard practice for all citizens under the age of eighteen, some sort of antiquated hold-over from the mid-twentieth-century Day Care Scares) was routine for that year, it was on with the bandage, then off the big table, and on to the nearest store, where Alva could pick out something truly cool yet suitable to the occasion, like a crystal-studded skin for her cell, or a fresh skin for her lap-top or hand-held. It was invariably some sort of decorative skin, though, to commemorate the continual updating/correcting/revising or upgrading of her dermal identification. And every time she’d receive her latest tattoo, her parents would give her The Talk, as she and all her friends eventually dubbed it:

Everyone has to have these tats, honey...to keep safe, and keep everyone else safe. Years ago, they tried implants, under the skin, but those little

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