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Assaph Mehr

Felix the Fox is a failed magician (not his fault he couldn't pay tuition and got thrown out), a discharged legionary (honourably discharged - even if the dice were loaded), and a full time investigator of crap no one else wants to touch. Assaph is just the guy putting words on paper for Felix.

Byron (of the Vampires and Spies series, by Taggart Rehnn)

Dear readers, tonight with us is an undead space-time traveller, who likes to hunt monsters, explore worlds, and do some light archeology in his spare time.

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

I was conceived in the altar of a blood god in Mexico, born in a castle in Northern Provence, and spent my life in ICUs, protected and controlled by my paternal grandmother, Countess Chloé, the matriarch of our family.

My parents, both archaeologists, were rarely home. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t conceive. So they traveled a lot, and became workaholics. But then, alien ‘visitors’ only Chloé ever saw, told her how my parents could have a child. My parents did it, and it worked. From then on, Chloé made everyone follow their instructions. Since ‘the visitors’ said I shouldn’t be ‘eugenized’ in utero, I was born with severe congenital disorders.

Beside our castle in Provence, we had many vacation homes, but I spent more time intubated in clinics and ICUs than enjoying any of that. So, after reaching adulthood, pumped full of any drug known to man or monkey required to do it, I traveled far and wide, and became a ‘French Indiana Jones’.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

Not favorite toys per se, but a sort of playhouse the size of a hangar, representing the 42 tasks ancient Egyptians believed a soul must perform to get into their ‘Paradise’. There I felt both scared of, and protected by, Egyptian gods—scared I might offend them if I did something wrong, and sheltered from a world where I was a bullied weakling with mild Asperger’s.

Fond memories from trips all over the world with Chloé, I have too many to count. My parents died when I was in my teens, and Mamie Chloé when I was in my early twenties, leaving behind a bevy of lawyers and wills—and Severian, the ‘real Dracula’s grandfather, who kept our family’s fortune in tiptop shape, even after everyone on Earth thought I was dead and gone, buried alive during an expedition.

What do you do now?

I hunt down monsters, explore worlds, and work as an archaeologist in my spare time. Since I shall live forever and often travel through space-time, I guess I’ll keep doing it.

My gradual transformation, molting like an insect, from one kind of undead to another, seems now complete. At least, I hope it is. Each time I feed, the resulting massacre makes the news; and, with each molt, those massacres get bigger and gorier. But there’s someone who should know how to control this: Ukko, an Ancient who left Kemet (the world where I became an undead) for Earth about a thousand years ago. Since we must find him to defeat our nemesis, I hope he will help me with this as well.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

‘The Visitors’ tells the story of my life, my mysterious disappearance and my first years in Kemet, when I became this ‘creature’. But my life’s story starts with ‘Freer of Souls’, which describes how my family and Severian prevented the Apocalypse when my parents were still working hard to conceive me—alas, in vain. ‘The Visitors’ comes after ‘Freer of Souls’, ‘Catatumbo’ and ‘Vyrus’, followed by ‘The Revenants’—the story of our arrival from Kemet and our fight against ‘varjugga’, a ‘dark energy demon’ that fled our world. We were never able to destroy it, and I’m not sure we can trap it either. That’s why, although we’re still fighting it, we need Ukko. Alas, he’s now in stasis, slowly dying. If ‘varjugga’ finds him first, it will create an army of enslaved humans and undeads, conquer Kemet, and end all life everywhere—your ‘Apocalypse’.

Continue reading “Byron (of the Vampires and Spies series, by Taggart Rehnn)” →
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Benedict Shade (of Claws of the Collector, by Douglas Lumsden)

Dear readers, we tried to schedule an interview with the protagonist of this exciting new series, to ask him about shapeshifters and life under the dragon lord, but unfortunately he was detained by the police. So, instead, we bring you the transcript of his police interview.

Police Interview Transcript. Subject: Benedict Shade, aka “Shade the Collector”

Date, October 16. Time is eight-oh-five. Present in the interview room are Officer Julio Gutierrez of the New Helvetia Police Department and Benedict Shade. Mr. Shade has waived his right to have an attorney present.

Mr. Shade, you are a person of interest in an official police investigation. You are not under arrest, and your presence here is voluntary. Could you please state your occupation for the record?

Certainly, Officer Gutierrez. I collect and sell magical artifacts, the more exotic and unusual, the better.

Are any of the objects in your collection dangerous?

Many of them are potentially lethal. The more dangerous the artifact, the more valuable it is.

You realize that selling lethal magical objects without a license from the Realm of Tolanica is illegal.

Of course! I would never think of selling a truly dangerous object without a permit.

Your reputation suggests otherwise.

Please, Officer. You shouldn’t believe every stray rumor you hear from the street. The NHPD has never found evidence of my involvement in a single illegal transaction.

You’ve been lucky so far.

[Laughter] Maybe so. Say, officer, any chance you could send for a cup of tea? Plenty of cream, please. The tea you have around here is probably domestic swill, so make it half tea and half cream. Real cream, please, with all the calories. And for Lord’s sake, heat the water in a kettle. Boiling water with radio waves is barbaric. And a teaspoon of vanilla bean if you have it. If you don’t, I carry a shaker of ground vanilla bean with me wherever I go. The desk sergeant impounded it when I came in, so you can get it from him.

Does this look like a restaurant? We don’t have tea. I can get you coffee if you want it. Heated in a microwave.

Ugh. Unless it’s imported from the rainforests of northern Qusco? I might be able to tolerate some of that with plenty of cream and sugar. No? Well, never mind. I’ll get by.

Let’s move on. You’re a shapeshifter, right?

That’s right. I am able to transform into twelve black cats.

You seem remarkably stable for a shifter. In my experience, most shifters are at least borderline insane.

What can I say? Imagine you are a normal young human, somewhere between the ages of twelve and fifteen, and you wake up one morning with the realization that you have become something… different. Something both more and less than human. It’s bad enough when you are suddenly and randomly gifted—or cursed—with the ability to transform into a single beast, like a wolf or a cougar, but most of us find our entire self fragmented among a number of smaller animals, such as foxes, crows, or, in my case, cats. I was lucky. Imagine what it must be like to discover that you have become a were-rat, or a were-slug? When the change comes, it’s totally unexpected, and it’s always traumatic. It changes your entire life. Even more than the onset of puberty, which occurs at roughly the same time!

How did your family take it when they discovered you had become a were-cat?

My father was already gone. He’d been disappeared by Dragon Lord Ketz-Alkwat’s secret police. You know how it goes. The “gray-ties” came knocking at our door at two in the morning. My mother told my brother and I to stay in our room. Then she went to my older sister’s room and told her the same thing. A few minutes later, Mother told us that our father was gone and would never be coming back. By the time I came down for breakfast, all traces of my father were gone. I was twelve years old. I still don’t know why they came for him, and I have no hope of ever finding out. But that’s life under the Dragon Lord, and it’s been going on for centuries. Nothing unique about my story. I was just another boy whose father or mother, or big brother or sister, or aunt or uncle, or grandparent or cousin disappeared suddenly, without warning, taken by the Lord’s Investigation Agency and erased from our memories.

What about the rest of your family? How did they take it when you became a were-cat?

The same way most families do when they discover their son or daughter, or brother or sister has become a freak. My mother was a strong woman. She accepted what she called my “affliction” and thought I could be tamed through drug therapy and the force of her will until it was time for me to enter into my three-year mandatory government service. I put up with that for about a year before I ran away and changed my name. I avoided government service, too. I decided no one was better suited to help me cope with my affliction than myself. Also, I had a little supernatural guidance.

What do you mean?

After a few years engaged in a lifestyle I’m certainly not going to talk about with a policeman—hey, you never caught me, so there’s no point in rehashing it all now, right? Anyway, at some point I was visited by Coyote.

The Coyote? The trickster spirit?

The one and only. But he’s a lot more than a trickster. He’s the father of every living thing on this planet. His companion, Kodoyanpe, built the earth, but it was Coyote who filled it with blood, because red is his favorite color. And with blood came life.

And Coyote came to you?

That’s right. He provided me with the guidance I was rejecting from everyone else. I accepted his counsel because he was willing to give me some useful things. For example, he made me more sensitive to the presence of magic. He also taught me some occult magic and granted me some minor hexing powers. None of this was free, of course. It cost me the ring finger on my left hand, but I wasn’t using it all that much anyway. It also cost Lucky, one of my cats, his tail. He’s not too happy about that, but he copes.

Was it Coyote who taught you to use your shapeshifting ability to steal valuable artifacts?

Who says I steal those artifacts? I collect them from people who had no right to own them in the first place. Rich parasites, mostly. They’re the real thieves, not me.

Tell it to the judge.

I will in the unlikely event you ever catch me in the act or find any stolen goods in my possession.

It’s only a matter of time. Are you ever afraid that your cats will scatter to the winds and take pieces of your personality with them?

I have to admit it’s my greatest fear. Every shifter has to deal with the possibility. It’s why many of them are so mentally unstable. Each of my cats is a distinct piece of me, and if I were to lose one, I’d lose the part of me that it embodies. If I lose any, I lose some of what makes me who I am. If I were to lose half of them, the human part of me would dissolve into the ether. But I’ve got a handle on my cats, and I haven’t lost one yet.

How do you keep them under control?

Officer Gutierrez, you obviously don’t know many shifters. If you did, you’d know that the question you asked is in poor taste. How I deal with the pieces of myself is personal, and I won’t speak about it with anyone who isn’t a shifter or someone I know a lot more intimately than I know you.

My apologies, though if you were under arrest, rest assured I’d require you—compel you, if necessary— to answer my question. Now, I understand you were out of town recently. I’m sure you had an innocent reason.

It’s no secret. I went to Yerba City with my friend, Dwayne, to collect an artifact.

This would be Dwayne Buckler?

That’s right. He and his wife, Salamander, own some land by the river, along with a few trailers. I rent one of their trailers, and they live in a doublewide in the same court. Sal’s a river spirit, by the way. Dwayne makes pots and sells them. He’s quite the character and a real stand-up guy. I’m sure you have a file on him, but he’s clean these days. I trust him with my life, or at least enough to gather up my clothes when I transform into cats, and bring them to me when I need them. Anyway, I heard from my sources that an enchanted dagger was on its way to Yerba City, and Dwayne and I went there to collect it.

From its owner?

Right of ownership was an open question. It was being delivered to a private investigator, but he didn’t know anything about it and didn’t know it was coming. In the end, he and his were-rat friend helped me collect it. We got some help from a sorcerous goat-creature and a really powerful and scary witch.

A dagger, you say? From what I hear you’re quite an expert with blades.

Well, far be it for me to boast, but I can put a put a throwing knife into an eyeball from twenty paces. Not that I ever would, of course. But I didn’t want this dagger because it was a weapon. I wanted it because I heard that it contained a spirit of some kind. As it turned out, something was trapped inside, but it wasn’t the spirit I’ve been searching for.

What spirit is that?

Kodoyanpe, the Earthmaker. He was trapped in something long, long ago, and finding the artifact that imprisons him is the dream of every collector on the planet. I’ve been looking for the Earthmaker for years, and I intend to be the one who finds him, whether he’s indeed confined in an object, or in a tree, or a body of water—or even in another living being! Whoever finds the Earthmaker will be celebrated till the end of time.

You say the Earthmaker wasn’t trapped in this dagger. Who was?

I’m not at liberty to say. If you want to know, ask the Lord’s Investigation Agency.

Right. No thank you. That’s above my pay grade. Was this enchanted dagger dangerous?

More than I can possibly tell you. It could have instigated a major war between the Seven Realms. A lot of people died because of it, but it could have been worse. Much worse.

Were you responsible for any of those deaths?

Me? Of course not. And I find that question offensive.

Right. Maybe an investigation by the realmers would tell us a different story. Where is it now?

That’s none of your business.

We’ll see about that. Now that you’re back in New Helvetia, I hope you’re planning to keep your nose clean. We don’t want to hear about any black cats sneaking into gated communities, hexing the residents, and walking off with any enchanted gemstones or statuettes.

Please, Officer. I’m hurt by your low opinion of me. There’s no way you’d ever catch any of my cats walking away with anything valuable. If I were inclined to commit burglaries, I’m far too skilled to allow anyone to catch me in the act. Can I go now? I’m dying for some tea. Especially some red bush tea from the western cape of southern Ghana.

The transcript ends at this point with a note stating that the interview was interrupted by a representative from the Lord’s Investigation Agency, who took Shade into custody. The LIA agent, a dwarf who identified herself as Dallin Streete, offered no explanation. The note indicates gratuitously that Ms. Streete was remarkably beautiful and dressed as if she were stepping out of a limousine onto a red carpet. The note ends with this brief statement: “When Officer Gutierrez objected to the intervention of Agent Streete, he was seized by convulsions. He was taken to New Helvetia General Hospital where he is currently under observation.”

Douglas Lumsden earned a doctorate in medieval European history at the University of California Santa Barbara. He taught world history at a couple of colleges before settling into a private college prep high school in Monterey. Now retired, he writes an urban fantasy series featuring hard-boiled private eye Alexander Southerland as he cruises through the mean streets of Yerba City and interacts with trolls, femme fatales, shape-shifters, witches, and corrupt city officials. Douglas and his wife Rita can be found most days pounding the pavement in our running shoes, or with their cat named Cinderella who is happy to stay indoors.

You can find Shade on the pages of Claws of the Collector.

Browse our archives for past interviews, or follow the site by email (bottom-right) to know immediately when your new best-book-friend makes an appearance.

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Gerty (of Gerty’s Way, by Susan Bass Marcus)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a sweet lady who likes pastries and cats — and in her spare time explores magical realms. She is here to talk anything from fairy folk to dragons, from Paris to the Sahara.

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

I’m a woman in the prime of life, ‘of a certain age,’ they say, but I am filled with energy, curiosity, and a big appetite. The USA Midwest was my birthplace and still is home, but I travel a lot. Mostly to Paris, France because I can’t get enough of the city’s baguettes and croissants. It’s nothing like the small town I grew up in, with a few diners, a gas station, an all-purpose general store—you get the picture.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

Puppets!!! I loved pretending. I used to put on puppet shows for the kids in my neighborhood, you know, I’d hide behind a card table resting on its side and I’d put on a show. With my hands moving dragons, princesses, kings, queens, elves, and more, I created a magical world for us kids. 

What do you do now?

No one has known this about me, but I have traveled so much because I wanted to find places still inhabited by dragons, fairy folk, and the unfortunate mortals who have to live with them.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

Gerty’s Way is a perfect disguise, hiding the real work that I do. Yes, I am that sweet lady who likes pastries, cats, and my best friends, but I am also an explorer of magical realms and that, my friend, is where future books about my life will be going. Mysteriously, Author is working on her upcoming book about goofy birds. I don’t know why she’s doing that first since my secret life is more interesting.

Continue reading “Gerty (of Gerty’s Way, by Susan Bass Marcus)” →
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Rav’Orn aka Raven (of The Death Bringer, by J. Scott Coatsworth)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a man defending his planet from an alien invasion. He’s here to tell about his friends in this, and about being a half dragon.

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

That’s a loaded question. I lost my mother when I was six in a fire. Talk about things that will fark you up. When Mim’Aza took me in, I did okay for a while. We lived in a run-down neighborhood just outside of the five Spines of Gullton. I had a huge crush on Jimey, her son, but it never went anywhere—we were basically brothers, so that would have been weird. *shudders* But soon enough I left and moved out on my own, finding a hidey-hole cavern under the city to make my own.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

I try not to think about that time too much. It reminds me of the fire. My mother… well, she was a drunk and her carelessness started the fire, but still… she was my mom. All right? And living with Mikm’Aza, we were always dirt poor. But there was this one thing. Lean in. Closer. It’s a secret. See, one time, out in Lander’s Field, I found this… well, not thing. More of a him. This little talking sphere who told me his name was Spin. I know. Weird, right? But on a thief’s honor, I swear it’s true. And now he’s one of my best friends. Does that count?

What do you do now?

Well… that’s also a bit sketchy to answer. Why are you asking so many questions? Are you with the city guard? You know you have to tell me if I ask, right? No? All right. So… yeah, I was a thief. For a long time. And I was really good at it. But then the whole steal-a-package and swallow-a-dragon thing happened, and everything changed. I guess I’m a dragon rider now? Or a world saver? That will really piss Silya off, even more than when Aik chose me over her. But I’m keeping my options open. Once a thief, always a thief. Right?

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

Let’s catch you up. I swallowed a dragon. Silya became the Hencha Queen, and talks with the plants, or something like that. Aik… well, Aik found a gauntlet, and he’s been weird ever since. Oh and he kissed me (and more) but then I took off with a couple of dragons to Mountainhome – think of it as Dragnlandia. Only we call ‘em Verents around here. Then the world went sideways, these weird alien fireflies showed up, and Silya and I got caught up in the whole saving the world business. Only, neither of us knows what happened to Aik. I’m pretty sure he’s my soulmate, and I’ll do whatever I have to, to get him back. Even if it does mean saving the world from fungus-like alien invaders. So I have a lot on my plate.

Continue reading “Rav’Orn aka Raven (of The Death Bringer, by J. Scott Coatsworth)” →
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Borax (of In Victrix, by Assaph Mehr)

Dear readers, tonight with us is nominally the bodyguard of the protagonist — proving once again that everyone is the hero of their own story. He’s here to talk about gladiatorial games, about childhood in the forest vs life in the big city.

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

I grew up in the forests of Arbarica, under evergreen trees. We lived in a remote village, only a few families, and my father and brothers hunted for furs and meat. At festivals, we went to the oppidium to trade the furs for tools, jewellery, and other things, and then stayed the nights for celebrations. The bards sang, and the druids dispensed law and lore, enthralling everyone with feats of magic.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

All the memories I have are cherished because there are so few of them. I was barely thirteen when the legions came. I took up a sword and stood with everyone I ever knew and more besides against the invaders.
It didn’t help. I have no idea how I survived. I don’t even recall the actual battle. Then I was chained and marched day after day to Egretia. I was a big one, even as a child, so a lanista from a gladiator school bought me. That was the end of my childhood.

What do you do now?

My dominus is a kind master, and I owe him my life. Gladiators don’t always die on the sands and the retirement options are limited, often reduced to begging. What else is there for someone who only knows how to fight, but can no longer do it once he’s too scarred and disfigured? Even those who survive the six years or thirty bouts to earn their freedom, find it hard to get a job.
Felix took me in when I had no prospects, gave me this metal hand you see, and now I protect his life. I go wherever he goes, to make sure he comes back.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

You’d have to ask the master about that. My dominus is very strict about client confidentiality. Without betraying any names… well, I got to mix with gladiators again, and got a much better view of the chariot races. There were things going on — with secrets and gods, and sacrifices and religion, and rich people tampering with things they shouldn’t — and I have no idea what they meant. I wasn’t privy to those conversations. I was just there for when the going got rough.

When it did! Now, that is something that gets the blood roaring in your ears. Not like the adulation of the crowds in the arena, but real fights in dark corners with real stakes. Makes you appreciate being alive.

Continue reading “Borax (of In Victrix, by Assaph Mehr)” →
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The Lightbender (of Safe Passage, by Karen Menezes)

Dear readers, tonight with us is the Lightbender, an illusionist who works as a healer. After days of wandering the border forest of Capherayna, he stumbled upon the Xaeltik community, an ancient tribe who are unable to defend themselves from the dark forces of the modern world. He is here to tell us about his adventures and struggles as he risks his life to save others.

Tell us about where you’re from. Urban or rural? Small town? What was life like?

A bunch of messianic fogies convinced my family to give up their only child for the good of mankind. I have no memory of my parents and no idea where I’m from. I was taken to a secluded environment in the mountains. The academy had no technology and no scope for a social life. My teachers were as emotionless as rocks and ensured we emulated them. It sucked, to a great extent, but I don’t regret it. I developed skills that few human beings could dream of. And, yes, it was worth it in the end.

That sounds like a hard childhood! Even so, I’m sure you have a few cherished memories.

The young Lightbender wasn’t too fond of his childhood. My teachers tortured our minds and bodies in the name of resilience. But when I look back, I miss hang gliding in the mountains, making strawberries from thin air and, in a masochistic way, pushing my body to the extreme. I developed a rich inner world that sustains me to this day.

What do you do now?

I’m an illusionist. It’s not as complicated as it sounds. I’m aware of the illusion of duality and pierce the veil if needed. Some say I perform miracles, but it’s hard work and practice, really. I’m a healer, one who wanders the world serving the afflicted in war and natural disasters. My toolkit comprises herbs, acupuncture needles, my hands and a sleek hang glider. Occasionally, I use my hang glider to get out of sticky situations.

I’m curious to know about your latest adventure. Which part of the world are you in?

My latest adventure is trying to avoid adventure as far as possible. I’ve been stranded in sieges and riots, famine and landmine-infested regions. I’ve walked into a massacre, for God’s sake! Sadly, I have a feeling I’m going to get myself into trouble again—but only if I visit the borderlands. There’s a reason I’ve avoided them like the plague all these years. I’ve been stuck in Capherayna for a while and can’t get myself to leave.

Continue reading “The Lightbender (of Safe Passage, by Karen Menezes)” →
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Nahor (of The Stone Cutter, by Brock Meier)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a young sculptor working the art world in the spectacular Nabataean Kingdom of ancient Arabia (you know its capital as the fabulous city of Petra). But his secrets of implication in the
deaths of his sister and mother, and his father’s abandonment, leave a
dark chasm in the flint of his heart.

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

I was born near Hawara, Nabataea—a place the Greeks called Arabia. It was a few days travel south of the capital city of Raqmu, or Petra as you call it. It was one of the last stops on the caravan road from the port at Aila, on the way to the capital, and finally on to the port at Gaza. From Gaza, they shipped luxury goods—incense, silk, and gemstones—to the rest of the world around the Great Western Sea.

Any memories of childhood?

I loved roaming the rocky white hills beyond Hawara, and swimming in the cool waters of the town’s underground cistern—when no one was looking. And I recall times of joy I spent with a girl about my age—Qainu. At the tender age of seven, I thought I might marry her.

But the place holds bitter memories as well, since I was implicated in my younger sister’s death, and later, that of my amma. And for that reason, my abba abandoned me in Raqmu/Petra, leaving me in the care of a stranger. But that man became a better abba than the one who sired me.

What did you first think when your father abandoned you in Petra ?

I couldn’t really imagine that he was abandoning me—in a city I’d never known, and to a man I’d never met. I could not grasp that I would never see my family again. I don’t think my mind, and my heart, could face the terror of that reality.

What do you do now?

I was on the fast-track of the art world in Raqmu, as protege of the famed sculptor Aslah—the man who was my foster abba. He instructed me well, and also said I had a gift like none he’d ever seen. But that all came to a horrendous end one day at the stone quarry. The collapse of a rock wall crushed him to death, and caused grievous injury to my right hand. I not only lost the ability to excel at my craft, but lost the man I cherished as my abba.

I then went on a quest to find something—the Shamir—that I thought might resurrect my career. It was said to be a powerful, but mysterious object, buried beneath centuries of myth. It took me to the very ends of the earth. And the cost of this quest grew far more than I could possibly imagine.

Continue reading “Nahor (of The Stone Cutter, by Brock Meier)” →
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Minutia (of Tactile Therapy: Requisite, by Durell Arrington)

Dear readers, tonight with us is an individual unlike any I’ve interviewed before. She tells me her name is Minutia, but she reminds me that this isn’t her birth name as she wasn’t technically born. A name, a birth date, or even an address, are all novel concepts to her. Though she’s a full grown adult, she only has memories and experiences that stretch no further than from a few weeks ago. Everything before then she either forgot or simply never happened. Tonight perhaps, she can shed a bit of light about her origin and how she’s been faring so far adapting to our modern society.

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

Well, I didn’t exactly ‘grow up’ –– not in the traditional sense. I believe a better way of framing it is that I awoke. This awakening occurred about 3 weeks ago. I have virtually no memory of anything before I opened my eyes on Apophis. Since then, I attribute my life’s experience to the things that have happened to me on a place called Earth. 

That being said, of all the peculiar things I’ve come to associate with human beings, as I’ve come to learn they are called, there is none more strange to me than these memories that flow into my head that inform me of things instantly. Things that I’m told should ordinarily take time to learn for someone with no idea of what they are. Yet, for me, I become fully knowledgeable of them the moment I see them.

Just a month ago, I went from not knowing what a car was to being able to drive one in a second.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

Toys. You mean the object shaped like a man that Calvin threw at me when I was in his bedroom? If so, then that’s all I know of them. He seemed very concerned about the care of these objects, so I guess they have some sort of deep value to their owners. Which I presume he is. 

What do you do now?

If you’re asking what my vocation is, such a concept does not apply to me. But, I assume one would conclude that I am a seeker. I am currently looking for someone. A man who shares a likeness to me. Perhaps, with Calvin’s help I’ll be able to find him. This wasn’t something I planned to do but I’ve recently learned that he is looking for an artifact that can destroy this world I’ve somehow landed on. 

I need to stop him. Right?

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

It seems I was successful in convincing Calvin to join me to find Jumopikwaris. I’m not sure how, but Calvin found me and it’s almost like he knew we were supposed to meet. I’ve only met four people since I awoke, but he is by far the most interesting of them.

Glenn, uh, I mean, Chadwick, lied about his true intentions and assaulted me when I least expected it. I told him he’s going to be sorry for that and I wanted to show him right then and there exactly why. But, I had to be careful around Calvin’s bodyguards. I’m not even sure where that feeling came from.

Now that me and Calvin have escaped, I’m growing more and more worried about finding Jumopikwaris. We’ve been shot at and almost died and I just met this kid. He seems to be enjoying it, however. I can only hope I can keep us safe in the meantime.

Continue reading “Minutia (of Tactile Therapy: Requisite, by Durell Arrington)” →
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Glitch Govil (of Glitch: Redemption, by Roy Jones)

Dear readers, tonight with us is someone who’s been called by many epithets — Mercenary, Vigilante, Killer, Saviour, Destroyer, Hero, Villain, Enhanced, Broken, Assassin, Protector, and, also definitely, possibly, certainly, probably insane.

Please introduce yourself and the book you are from.

Hi, I’m Glitch Govil, yes a bit of a stupid name, but there you go. As you may guess it’s not my birth name, but you know how in films and TV documentaries, they say that names changed to protect the innocent, well that’s why my name was changed. To protect my family. I started to keep a journal about my missions,  which I titled Glitch: Redemption, and me being scattered brained, didn’t start at the beginning of my journey, ,but I hope you will read about me and my journey. What? How did I get the name Glitch Govil, well that’s a story for another time.

What do you do now/What is it you do

Well, it depends on who you ask, those people I help, those desperate people let down by the government, or the justice system, will say I rescue them or save them. Well, most of them will, a few really disagree with my methods. Let’s just say that when people are in a desperate situation with no real way out, I rectify the situation, I decide what’s right or wrong, I protect the innocent and punish the wrongdoers, I am the judge and jury, and at times, the executioner.

Whom or what do you really hate?

Oh, that’s easy, The Collective, I can’t tell you too much about them, as that would place you in danger. Hmm let’s see, OK, so, you know the spy films, big secret organisation planning to take over the world or take down a democratic country, is taken down by a lone agent? No not like that, yes  The Collective is a big secret organisation, yes I fight against them, but no I can’t take them down, after all, I am just one person (sort of), all I can do is damage them and run, for they are after me.

Why Do I hate them, one, them made me what I am, two, I was an enforcer for them for a time, completely under their control, until I got away, now I am a loose end they are eager to take care of.

Continue reading “Glitch Govil (of Glitch: Redemption, by Roy Jones)” →
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