A novel escape By Allen Kitchen March 10, 1998 all rights reserved. Special thanks to Chris Hoekstra for all his help. Typhon checked to his left before pressing the landing button with his index finger. The computer on his Zephyr aircar sometimes clipped the tree beside the driveway, and he was getting tired of pulling twigs from between the control surfaces. He really ought to get the side sensors inspected, he thought. That or trim the tree. But the vehicle appeared to be clear this time, so he pressed the button on the dash, ordering the car to land at his home once more. He smiled and patted the book sitting in the seat beside him as the vehicle slowly descended. He was very pleased, and anxious to read it. The last book in the series, he congratulated himself. The final volume. And now his collection of all 9 books was finally complete. At last, he had them all. It had taken him 2 years of searching and scrounging, but he had finally gotten the entire set. As the gold-colored machine slowly settled onto the ground, the soft whistle of the hover-engines automatically cut off. The dash and displays in front of Typhon went black and inert as well. All but one. It was stuck into the hole in the dash where the music system once sat. It was a special panel that he had built and installed himself a few short months ago. It was still running, cryptic runes and flashing graphs crawling upon it's small black rectangular face. Typhon was very proud of the device. He built it with his own two paws, using his own natural ingenuity to make it work when every science book he knew about said it shouldn't. He shut that unit off with a wave of his paw, and watched as the glowing symbols vanished back into the obsidian once more. As proud as he was of his accomplishment, the only other being he allowed to see it was Midge, his wife. And that was only because he really didn't have much choice in the matter. They only had the one air-car. Typhon glanced at his watch, and grimaced. He was almost an hour late. Midge would be even more angry with him than she usually was. Having a new book in his hands wasn't going to make matters any better either. Best to just go ahead and just get it over with, he decided. After all, she's just going to get madder and madder the longer I wait to come inside. As he pushed the gull-wing-like door upwards, he swung his feet around to the outside and stood up on the soft grass. His 3 red and white tails followed his vulpine rump as he climbed out of the driver's seat. He swished each one of them in turn, exercising them a bit. They were stiff from being tucked into the slot in the car's seat for the last 2 hours. It was a common complaint with him. After all, he was Kitsune and had extra tails behind him. And his kind was rare enough that nobody made carseats to accommodate the extra space his tails needed. But that was nothing compared to the discomfort he was about to face. With a resigned sigh he collected the book from the front seat, and pulled the door closed with a soft thump. Then he briefly checked the vanes and control surfaces on the left side of the vehicle. Once he was convinced that the vehicle hadn't taken another bite from his tree, he turned around and walked to the front door of his home. As he reached for his keys, the brown door flung open before him. Typhon leaned back, startled at the movement. Standing there in the doorway was his wife Midge. His wife was a husky, a breed of canine, and was about 5 and a half feet of gray and white fur. She was wearing a purple T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and a pair of bluejeans. Her curly gray tail was motionless, and her steel-blue eyes practically blazed anger as she blocked the doorway. "And just where have you been?" she loudly challenged him. Typhon glanced quickly to the house next door and noticed that the elderly neighbors were sitting on their porch, watching him intently. "I swung by a bookstore on the way home." He replied, taking his eyes off the curious otters and staring at her once more. "There's nothing special happening tonight, and you never said I had to be home by any set time today." "I expected you home long before now!" She shot back, clearly steamed at him. "You're usually not this late." "Not usually, no. But IŠ" "No buts!" she cut him off. "I don't want to hear anymore about it! There's no excuse for being late." He took a step toward the door, waiting expectantly for his wife to step aside and allow him to pass. "You're right. There can't be a good excuse. And the next burning bus I see, I'll just pass right on by and not bother to help." She didn't budge, but crossed her arms and stood squarely in his way. "Now you are just being sarcastic." she growled. "And you are being unreasonable." He replied, trying to keep his irritation from showing as she barred his way. "It is still daylight. It's not like I'm coming in at midnight you know. So I'm an hour late. So what?" "I wanted to go to the mall Typhon. And you have the car all the time." "So call a cab. You know the number." "That's not the point! I wanted to go to the mall, and you were nowhere to be found. I called you at work, and you weren't there. I called your watchphone, but you never answered." That's because I took the batteries out, he thought sourly to himself. Of course I didn't answer my watch. I'm tired of answering my watch. Haven't you figured that out yet? He took a breath and let it out again before replying. "Well, I'm here now dear. Let me put my book away, and we'll run off to the mall for a couple of hours, okay love?" Midge spun about on her heel, and stomped further into the house. "No, just forget it. If you can't get here on time, then just forget about going anywhere with me." "I thought you said you wanted to go to the mall." "I did!" "Well, okay, then let's go." "I said I did. I don't want to anymore." Typhon took a step into his house, clutching the book protectively to his chest. "Dear, you aren't making any sense." She turned and went into the kitchen. He saw her tail whisk inside after her. "Who says I have to make sense?" She began to make an exaggerated show of banging pots and pans on the cabinets, deliberately making as much noise as she possibly could. Partly it was to show her displeasure with him. Mostly it was to cause him pain, since she knew sharp loud noises hurt his sensitive hearing. Typhon flattened his ears against his head in an effort to soften the noise, but still winced at each crash echoing from the kitchen. "Fine." he said, clinching his eyes shut in private agony. "Whatever you want. Did you make anything for dinner?" Not that you ever do, he silently added. "You want to eat?" she barked back at him. "No problem. I'll make Yam Capote! Yummy! How's that sound to you mister?" It sounds like you remember that I HATE Yam Capote, he grumbled to himself. "And keep that damned book out of my sight!" she added with a snarl. "You know that I can't stand to see them laying around all over the place. You keep it out of sight, and don't you even think about getting on the computer tonight." He slowly shook his vulpine head, and closed the door behind him with his free hand. Looks like another night in the doghouse, he glumly thought. It would have been nice if someone had told me I had a curfew ahead of time. Geez, let me be late one time in years of marriage, and you'd think I was out drinking at the bar all night from her reaction. Ah well. There's only one way to deal with her when she gets her hackles up like this. "Whatever you say dear. Just like always." *** THE WORLD OF FERNDELT 3 IS ALMOST SOLIDLY SWAMP. UNIQUE IN ALL THE KNOWN WORLDS, THIS PLANET DEVELOPED ALMOST COMPLETELY FLAT. IT IS TOTALLY DEVOID OF ALL PLATE TECTONICS NORMALLY SEEN ON OTHER WORLDS, WHICH HAVE CAUSED SOME TO SPECULATE THAT THE WORLD DID NOT DEVELOP AS OTHER PLANETS DO, BUT WAS SOMEHOW CREATED BY AN INTELLIGENT ENTITY OF UNBELIEVABLE POWER. NATURALLY, THIS VIEW IS SCOFFED AT BY THE SCIENTIFIC COMMUNITY. BUT EVEN THEY ADMIT THERE ARE NO OTHER LIVING WORLDS ANYWHERE WITHOUT CONTINENTAL PLATES. AND LIFE ON FERNDELT IS LUSH. THE PLANET IS COMPLETELY MARSHLAND, BROKEN ONLY BY BODIES OF WATER THAT DO NOT EXCEED 20 MILES IN LENGTH. THE SPACEPORT AT LOGAN'S POINT WAS BUILT BY BRINGING DOWN MASSIVE ASTEROIDS FROM SPACE TO CREATE A LAND MASS SIZABLE AND STABLE ENOUGH TOŠ "TYPHON!" The vulpine jumped at his wife's loud bark. The blue-covered book soared from his hands, and landed at the foot of the couch. He quickly turned and looked down the hallway at his approaching wife. "What? What is it?" he said, startled. She entered the living room, and noticed the book on the floor. She scowled, and pointed at it. "I thought I told you not to leave your books laying around the house." she said, scowling at him. He blinked, confused. "Dear, I was just reading it." "On the floor?" "No, on the couch. I dropped it when you yelled." "So? Pick it up! Do you think I'm here just to clean up after you?" Typhon clenched his teeth for a moment, and tried to keep his voice steady and calm. "I didn't ask you to do anything." "You never do! But I always end up doing it, don't I?" "Only because you expect things to be done immediately, and you don't give me the chance to pick up anything." She sneered at him. "I do NOT expect that." He bent over and picked up the blue hardback novel. "Dear, this book isn't even cold yet. It's still warm from my hands, but you are yelling at me because you didn't like where it was laying." "It doesn't belong on the floor. It belongs in the trash." Typhon clenched his teeth once more. "Look," he grumbled. "I'll keep the books out of your way, okay? Just leave my stuff alone please. I don't go around tearing up your things." She smiled at him, showing off her sharp teeth. "That's because MY things are where they belong Typhon." He closed his eyes, and felt the anger within him starting to grow. He also felt the magic forces within him, straining against his controls. "Translation:" he said with a bit of edge in his voice. "Your things are where YOU say they belong. And where YOU say MY things belong varies from week to week." She nodded. "Right. And that's how it's supposed to be. The woman runs the house, remember? Do you remember that? You are in charge of the outside of the house, and I'm in charge of the inside!" Typhon sat still for a second, then slowly nodded. Yes, he remembered making that deal awhile back. It was necessary to prevent a fight from escalating out of control, and it sounded fair to him. At the time, that is. "Yes, I remember." He admitted. "But do you think you can be a little less demanding all the time? I mean, I live here too you know." She snorted in derision. "Yeah, right. You stay out late, working on that damned car all hours of the night. That, or you read those stinking books or chat with your friends on that bloody computer. You never spend any time with me." "I spend plenty of time with you. And I've got the bruises on my arms to prove it." "No you don't!" she fumed. "You are either at work, or you'reŠ" "What?" he snapped. "Or I'm what, at home? Here, with you? Is that where I am?" She stood in place, but remained silent. He glared up at her, feeling his Kitsune temper finally begin to boil over. "I'm not out racing, boating, hiking, drinking, or screwing around. I'm here, at home with you whenever I'm not at work! Just what is your problem woman?" She stared angrily at him a few seconds more, then spun off for the hallway again. "We'll finish this when you quit being such a jackass Typhon." she growled under her breath. "I can't talk to you like this." Correction, he thought angrily to himself. You can't walk all over me when I'm like this. He watched her stomp off for the kitchen again, and turned the pages of his book to get back to the page he was on before she startled him. As an added measure, he swiveled his ears back in preparation for the cacophony he expected any second. Right on cue, his wife began the pots and pans symphony in the key of ticked. A scherzo this time. How refreshing, Typhon thought. He blinked a few times in response to some particularly intense crash of the lids or thunderous slam of the stove. All that action, he thought. And not one bit of food ever comes out of the kitchen that I don't cook for myself. Not even that horrific Yam Capote he loathed so much. *** THE WORLD OF SHAR4 IS AS DEAD AS THEY COME. THE PLANET HAS NEVER HAD AN ATMOSPHERE, OR LIFE OF ANY SORT. YET THERE ARE TWO SPACE STATIONS ORBITING AND 36 COLONIES ON THE SURFACE. THE REASONS CAN BE SUMMED UP IN A SINGLE WORD: ERBIUM. A CRITICAL COMPONENT IN LONG DISTANCE FIBEROPTICS, IT IS A VERY RARE METAL AND NOT COMMONLY FOUND IN NATURE. BUT SHAR4 HAS PLENTIFUL VEINS OF THE MATERIAL, AND AN ACTIVE MINING INDUSTRY HAS GROWN THERE. OTHER SECONDARY INDUSTRIES HAVE SPROUTED TO SUPPORT THE PRIMARY MINING OPERATIONS, SINCE TRANSPORTING LARGE MACHINES ACROSS INTERSTELLAR DISTANCES IS STILL EXPENSIVE AND DIFFICULT. THE WORLD IS NOT WITHOUT BEAUTY HOWEVER, AND IT IS SAID THAT ANY MAN AND WOMAN WHO VENTURE INTO THE "FACET CANYON" JUST BEFORE SUNSET ARE DESTINED TO BE LOVERS, AS THEY WILL BE SO EMOTIONALLY MOVED BY THE SIGHT OF THE SUNLIGHT REFRACTING OFF THE BILLION OR SOŠ "TYPHON!" He jumped again, this time holding on to his book. He looked up at his mate sitting about 6 feet away from him, and sighed. "Okay love. What is it now?" She stared intensely at him from her side of the couch. "You aren't paying attention to the show." She grumbled. He glanced at the viewscreen half covering the far wall. Sure enough, the same news show was still playing. And sure enough, that newscaster with the most comical hairpiece he'd ever seen was still hosting. They really ought to shoot it and put it out of its misery Typhon thought. The show, not the newscaster; although the hairpiece looked like it was half dead already. "Sorry." He said turning back to his book again. "I'm not watching it." "Well, I am watching it." she growled. Typhon shrugged. "Go on ahead dear." He softly said. "I'm just not interested in the life cycles of the mollusk. Go ahead and watch this if you want to. I don't mind." "Look!" she fumed. "Can't you spend any time with me for a change?" He glanced up from his book and scowled. "I'm sitting on the couch with you Midge. What do you call this?" "I call it me watching a show while you read a book." "I call it sitting and relaxing with my wife‹we don't have to both be doing the same thing all the time." She snorted, and turned back to the video screen once more. "Just like I thought. You prefer your books and your friends over me." Typhon set the book in his lap, and took a deep, deep breath. He regarded her carefully, though she didn't look at him as he did so. "Midge," he softly told her. "If I preferred my friends to you, then I wouldn't be sitting here on this couch with you while some weasel in a bad toupee goes on and on about shellfish. I'd be inside on the computer, raising hell with them in the virtual world." She spun her head and growled at him. "So go on and go to them! I know you want to. Go on and leave me here, all alone, just like you always doŠ" He leaned forward, moving a bit closer to her. "I'm trying to spend some quality time with you Midge. Or don't you see that?" "You're just going through the movements. You don't mean any of it. You never do!" Typhon closed his eyes a moment, cast a tiny spell of peace upon himself, then opened his eyes to meet her angry glare once more. "Dear, do you remember what the marriage counselor said about using the words Śnever' and Śalways'? He said to stop using them. And here you've done it twice in the last 60 seconds." She turned back to the video screen and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. "That guy was a quack." She muttered. "That's why I demanded we quit." "The only thing wrong with him was he didn't tell you what you wanted to hear Midge. He came very highly recommended, and he wasn't cheap to hire either." She shook her head slowly. "Hey, I don't need some shrink looking at my marriage and telling me that I'm being overcontrolling. Next thing he'd say was I wet my bed and hated my mother." He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, practicing a Martial arts routine for centering. A few seconds later, he spoke to her again. "Midge, I'm here on the couch with you. I'm trying to be comfortable around you. But I can't do that if you are always telling me what to do, when to do it, and how to do it." "Look!" she snarled. "I know you don't love me, so just go on and go to the computer and have fun with your blasted friends. I know they mean more to you than I do!" Typhon closed his book, and stood up off the couch. His three tails that were draped over the armrest slid along and came with him. "Actually," he grumbled. "My friends are getting tired of my crying into my virtual beer all evening. So I'm going to do them all a favor and not bother them tonight. I'll just go to bed instead. At least in my sleep, you make a bit of sense." Midge gritted her teeth, and turned back to face the screen again. Typhon got up, closed the book with a loud snap, and walked down the hall to the bedroom. *** WHOEVER NAMED THE WORLD BIZZROID DID A VERY GOOD JOB. THIS IS A BIZARRE WORLD, IN THAT IT IS 99% FROZEN. THE WINDS AND CURRENTS ARE JUST WARM ENOUGH TO MELT THE ICE NOW AND THEN TO FORM VERY INTERESTING AND UNUSUAL SHAPES. "THE GIANT'S EMBRACE" IS A PERFECT EXAMPLE OF THIS. WARM FLOWING WINDS HAVE SCULPTED THE ICECLIFFS INTO A SHAPE RESEMBLING MASSIVE ARMS REACHING OUT AND AROUND A SMALL HILL. THE RESEMBLANCE, WITH CURVED MUSCLES AND MORE, IS REMARKABLE WHEN YOU CONSIDER ONLY WARM WINDS OVER CENTURIES CREATEŠ "Go put your dishes in the dishwasher." Typhon set the book down and looked at his wife while she got into the bed with him. "Huh?" he asked drowsily. "What are you talking about? I didn't eat anything. How can there be dishes in the sink" She pulled the covers over her, and rolled to turn her back to him. "Go and check." Typhon yawned. He was tired and cozy in the bed, but he knew better than to argue with her. Midge could bark and bark all night if she wanted to. And dishes sitting in the sink was one of her pet peeves. He sleepily climbed out from under the heavy comforter, and walked out of the bedroom, through the hall, and into the kitchen. He waved his paw in front of a softly glowing panel, and the room was bright with white light once more. He groggily walked up to the porcelain washbasin, and looked inside. It was empty. Typhon scowled and turned around to yell across the house. He put both paws on the sink's edge and used them to help hold his balance. "Hey, the sink is empty! Just like I said it was! What's the deal?" Midge yelled back down the hall. "Good! Take a hard look at it! That's how I want it to look every night!" "You pulled me out of a nice warm bed for this?" he stammered. "I thought you needed a reminder. Besides, you weren't doing anything important." "I was drifting off to sleep!" "You were reading your fantasy novel again. You weren't going to sleep." Typhon thought about beating on a few pots and pans himself, right then and there. We'll see about who's not going to sleep around here! But instead, Typhon decided he was too tired and too noble for such petty payback. Besides, the racket would bother him more than it would her. He waved an arm in front of the panel as he left the kitchen to extinguish the lights, and walked down the hall toward the bedroom. As he entered the bedroom once more, he turned off the light inside. "Thanks a lot Midge." He sarcastically said in the sudden darkness. "I don't know what I'd do if you weren't in my hip pocket, pointing out my numerous flaws and faults all the time." A few seconds passed before Midge replied. "Anytime, jerk. It's my job, after all." "Consider yourself suspended with pay then..." She let out a short, mean spirited laugh. "You can't suspend me. Slaves have to be sold." He slowly got under the comforter once more, and rolled over himself so his back was facing hers. "The only person who has enslaved you, is you." he mumbled, tossing about a moment to get comfortable. She didn't answer him. But he laid there for several sleepless moments anyway, mulling things over and over in his head. Why was Midge so unhappy and hateful all the time, he wondered? What could he do about it, if anything? He'd tried, over and over, to make her happy. Trips, movies, social clubs, religious groups, poetry readings, coffee houses, even just sitting around the house like mold. Nothing worked. In fact, the harder he tried to please her, the more demanding and the nastier she became. Now she was almost unbearable, and dead-certain that she was the absolute authority in their marriage. He let a heartfelt tear flow into his pillow as he remembered the wonderful woman he married years ago, and fell asleep praying for her return. *** "Surprise!" Typhon cheerfully called out. "A rare treat. Breakfast in bed." He carried the tray into the bedroom and up to the bed where the sleeping husky lay. The early morning sun was just peeking through the window. Typhon had made a small breakfast for Midge, and he was new serving it to her. The tray contained strawberries, 2 pieces of toast, some freshly squeezed juice, and vase with a rose in it. Midge rubbed her eyes sleepily as she woke up. "What-- what is it Typhon?" she asked him. He sat on the edge of her side of the bed and smiled at her. "Why, nothing more than the best homemade breakfast this Kitsune can make, of course. And it's all for you dear." She blinked at him twice, then closed her eyes again and rolled her head back into the pillow. "You woke me up for that?" Typhon's smile faded a bit. "Well, yeah. I thought you might like a little attention this morning. Look. I brought you all your favorites..." "I'm not hungry Typhon." she drowsily muttered. "Put it away for later, okay?" "Your toast will get cold." "So? I don't like toast anyway." "Since when?" "Since you woke me up and tried to force feed it to me." Typhon's smile sank completely. "I wasn't trying to force feed you dear. I was trying to be nice." She snorted derisively at him, and pulled the cover tighter over her body. "That just means you want something from me." she grumbled. "And whatever it is, you can just forget about it." "I didn't want anything from you." he protested. Except perhaps a smile or a thank you, he mentally added. "Then you won't be disappointed when you don't get anything... dear." She spat out the word 'dear' as if it tasted bad. Typhon bit his tongue, and rose from the bed with the tray still in his hands. He turned, and slowly carried it out of the bedroom. "No." he sulked. "I guess not." *** VERY LITTLE IS KNOWN ABOUT THE WORLD OF CHARON. IT IS FAR REMOVED FROM THE NORMAL SPACE LANES. IT IS THE NEAREST PLANET CIRCLING A BROWN DWARF SUN. CONSEQUENTLY, IT IS A VERY COLD AND DARK PLANET. ANY... A gray-furred hand fell over the page he was reading. Typhon looked up to meet his wife's gaze. "Reading that worthless garbage again?" she growled. She was wearing her silken pajamas still. Typhon had earlier changed into his sweatpants and an old college shirt. He wanted to let his wife sleep in a bit while he read from his new book some more. "I was till you stopped me." he replied, lowering the book to his lap. "Why don't you get dressed dear? It is about midmorning." Midge scowled as she took her hands and placed them on her hips. "Oh? And what's the matter?" she challenged him. "Don't I look good enough to be around you? Is that it? Do you expect me to play dress-up for you all the time?" Typhon continued to stare up at her from the couch. "Whoa. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning." "Don't YOU wish!" Typhon closed the book and reached up with his right hand for hers. She stepped back, pulling away from him. He let the hand fall on top of the blue novel again. "Okay dear." he sighed, frustrated. "I give up. What are you mad at me about this time?" She gritted her teeth and glared at him for several seconds before replying. "It's the same thing it always is. Everytime I see you, you've got your muzzle stuck in a damned book!" Typhon nodded. "Yes, and before that you complained that everytime you saw me I was on the computer, or on the telescreen, or working on the aircar, or sleeping, or something. So. This time its books is it?" She nodded rapidly. "And you think the books are hurting our marriage, do you?" She nodded again. "Just like all the other things did?" She nodded a third time. "Listen Typhon." she grumbled. "I don't know why you can't be nicer to me..." "I've been nothing BUT nice to you!" he interrupted her. She held up a hand. "You don't care Typhon. You are always doing something else. You never include me in anything." He bared his teeth at her, but remained seated. "When I DO include you in my activities, you go out of your way to wreck them for me. Remember that party at the zoo? Do you? Do you remember what you did, and what you said to my friends there?" "You don't need friends Typhon. You have me now." "Oh, for the love of..." She stomped her foot on the carpet to get his attention. "There, see there?" she fumed. "This is what I'm talking about. Something isn't exactly the way you want it, so you get all bent out of shape about it!" "Oh?" he growled. "And that wasn't you telling me that I couldn't be friends with 'those people' anymore?" Typhon marked the words with his fingers in the air. "How dare you! All you do is complain and mope around. That, and make demands all the time. And you accuse me of being self-centered?" "Whether or not you can admit it to yourself Typhon, you are self-centered." Typhon held up his left hand and raised three of his fingers. He lowered them one at time as he angrily spat out three words to her. "Pot! Kettle! Black!" She crossed her arms over her chest and slouched. "Oh, now THAT was mature." she muttered. "I'm making a point Midge. You say that I don't care about anyone but myself. How many demands do you hear ME make around here? How many times do I make YOU change the station just because the show doesn't interest me? And how many times do I try to ruin your good time, just out of spite? You do these things routinely, and you have the guts to stand there and tell me that I'm self-centered?" "That's right, yeah." "I even brought you breakfast this morning!" "I wasn't hungry." "You COULD have said thanks, but no thanks. It isn't hard to be polite, especially to someone you are supposed to love!" Midge lowered her head, and stared at her feet. "I... I don't know if I love you anymore Typhon." Typhon closed his muzzle, and stared hard at the husky. "You're kidding. Right?" Midge shook her head, and stood in place with her arms crossed. "No Typhon, I'm not. You never seem to want to have anything to do with me. All you do is read your stupid books all the time. You don't give a tinker's damn what I think or feel." "That isn't true Midge, and you flipping well know it isn't." Her head snapped up and she met his gaze with an equally steely look. "Then prove it to me!" she shot out. Typhon nodded attentively. He knew what was coming next. "Okay Midge." he sighed. "How can I prove my love for you, as if I didn't already know?" She sank to her knees, and put her hands on his legs. Once upon a time, this was how they confessed their undying love for one another. On their knees and committed to one another. But now. Now she had perverted this solemn act of dedication into something else. Something completely lacking in respect or love. This was what she did to him whenever she made her "if you love me..." demand. "Dear, those books of yours are ruining our marriage." "They are not!" he cried out. She put a finger on her muzzle to signal silence. "Hush!" she ordered him. "Just listen. We have had nothing but problems for the past couple of years. And there is always something coming between you and I. If it isn't the computer or your stinking friends, then it is the books. I want you to get rid of them." He knew she was going to say that. He knew it from the second she knelt down in front of him. But still, hearing the woman you love tell you to get rid of one thing after another after another for no good reason... It hurt deeply. "You want me to get rid of my books." he softly responded. She nodded. "Just because you tell me to Midge?" "Yes dear. If you love me, you will respect my wishes and dispose of your books." He was wondering when she'd get around to using the 'if you love me' line. "Well dear, you don't seem to respect any of my wishes." "That's because your wishes are tearing us apart Typhon. Can't you see that?" Typhon wanted to tell her that it was her and her self-centered demands that were wrecking the marriage. Not him. And certainly not a stack of inanimate paper. But his nose still hurt from where she had smacked him when he told her that before. He didn't feel like getting punched again, and he certainly didn't want to have to hit her, self-defense or not. "And you blame my books for our worsening marriage?" he said softly. "Can't you see how silly that is? Can you hear yourself? You are blaming a bunch of paper for your unhappiness. You blame everyone and everything in the universe, except yourself." "Do you think I WANT to be unhappy Typhon?" she cried out, still sitting in front of him. "Do you think I WANT to feel this way?" He shook his head. "No, I don't. But, I don't believe for one second that throwing out all my books will help. Nothing else I've done has mattered any. Why should this help, when everything else I've sacrificed hasn't?" "Because I need this!" she sobbed. "I need to know that you care. I need you to show me that I am the only thing in your life Typhon. I need to feel loved and cared for." "And the only way I can do that is to repeatedly throw away everything else in my life." he grumbled, shaking his head again. "And what do you expect me to do when I don't have anything left to give up? What do you want me to do when I'm just a bump on the couch, and you're STILL unhappy?" She kneaded her hands on his thighs. He involuntarily glanced down at them. "It won't come to that." she softly told him. "This is the last thing I want from you Typhon." "Now, where have I heard that before? Oh, yes. The last time you did this. And the time before that..." "Typhon, this is serious. If you can't do this for me, then we don't even have a chance of staying together." He nodded, trying to sort out his feelings. He calmly and slowly replied. "So it is either you, or the books. Is that what you are telling me?" She nodded! Something inside Typhon's heart died that instant. That dim ray of hope he had clung to for so long faded and vanished. After all he had done, after all he had tried to do, nothing had changed. Nothing. He had given her his love without exception, and THIS was what he got in return. He felt ill. "Okay then Midge." he sadly mumbled as he stood up again, clutching the book with one hand, and his stomach with the other. "If that's what it takes to make you happy, I'll see to it you never see another fantasy book in this house again." She watched him turn and walk into the hallway toward the bedroom. "Yes Typhon. That's all I want from you." "Sure..." he replied as he reached the bedroom. He closed the door behind him, and looked at the mirror on the back of the door. He looked like he wanted to cry. He did want to cry. But somehow he could not. The tears would not come. He'd spent too many years crying, and trying to make things work out. He couldn't build up the energy to care anymore. How did he look? Tired. Worn out. Hurt. Alone. All but abandoned. "Well then." he quietly told his unhappy reflection. "If we cannot make her happy, then perhaps it is best we started working on making ourselves happy instead." Typhon moved sluggishly to the night stand, and eased open her undergarments drawer. Even though it was for the best, he really didn't want to do this. His mind kept racing, over and over again, trying to find some other way. Some magic spell or something to make his marriage right again. But everytime he came up with the same answer. It wasn't his fault, and there wasn't anything he could do to fix it. He took out the money they stashed away in the back corner of the drawer in a small leather pouch. 7 platinum Boreas, about 2 months salary. They had been planning to use it for a vacation one day. He stuck it into his pocket, pouch and all, and walked over to the bookshelf. The books were in no particular order. And in fact, most of them belonged to Midge, a fact that only now occurred to him. Typhon shook his head at this final bit of irony, and pulled out the remaining 8 books from his new collection. He decided Midge could burn the others if she wanted. But these books were too valuable. They all had the same bluish cover, and black lettering on the spine. They had titles like "Dimension Doors: Theory" and "Dimension Transporters: Construction". The book on top read "Dimension Transporters: Alignment and testing." Typhon wasn't sure where the books had come from. But he found the first three in a free book bin outside the library. After toying around in the garage with some of the small experiments shown, he set out to find the rest of the series and build a full-sized machine. He had standing orders with every book search company in the country, should they find more of them. And Typhon got lucky. Yesterday he got the final book. "Dimension Transporters: Destinations and Coordinates." Whatever they were, they were certainly not fantasy novels! He opened the sliding door going out back, and snuck out into the backyard. He walked around the house and to the front where his aircar was sitting. Thumbing the lock open, he tugged the door upwards and climbed inside the driver's seat. He clumsily dropped the 9 books into the passenger side, and pulled the door down and closed again. As the door sealed, the car's dashboard lit up once more, performing system checks and warming up the engines. Typhon waved his hand in front of the black panel, and it too came to life with mysterious symbols and cryptic letters. He glanced at the pile of books next to him, and saw that the Destination book had fallen open. He could easily read the coordinates for one of the worlds he had been reading about. The Kitsune tried to get comfortable in the seat as he tapped the coordinates for that world into the control panel. It flashed green several times, signaling its readiness. Typhon wearily pressed the Liftoff button, and laid back in the seat again. He suddenly realized he had no idea which world he just entered as a destination. He also suddenly realized that he didn't care. Anyplace was better than this. The golden machine whispered again as it left the ground and gradually climbed into the air. Typhon winced as the vehicle once again came in contact with the tree. The twigs snapped and cracked as the flying machine passed through it. He reached forward, and tapped the symbol for "Transport" on the black panel. It began to countdown. 10. 9... He looked out the side window to see how many twigs and branches were stuck in the air control surfaces this time. The final time, he mentally added. 8. 7... He saw Midge come out the front door of their house. No, not their house, he corrected himself. HER house! She didn't really want a husband or a mate. Just a lackey. And like a fool, he played that part for years. 6. She glanced back at the neighbors, who were curious why she'd be running around outside in her sleepwear. Typhon was a little bit curious himself. It wasn't as if she really gave a damn about him. 5. Midge turned around again to face the aircar. The fur on her head and tail whipped about from the wind the aircar created while it climbed vertically. 4. He wondered what would become of her. Would Midge be alright? Would she find happiness? COULD she find happiness, ever? 3. Typhon waved good-bye. She just stood there in the doorway, looking puzzled. Well, she'd understand what was going on in just a few more seconds, he decided. 2. He leaned back in the seat, and faced forward again. His future lay ahead, wherever it was he was going. What a pity he was going alone though. He had originally planned on exploring the universe together with Midge. Now he would have to scour the universe in hopes of finding someone to replace her. 1. Such a pity, he thought as he closed his eyes. The control panel flashed white a few times, and a blinding sphere of light surrounded the aircar for a few seconds. Midge and the neighbors all put their hands over their eyes to shield themselves from the sudden sunburst. Then, just as quickly as it came, the light was gone. As was Typhon.