a naturalized citizen of these great United States. God bless the peaceful eagle.”
Amanda’s stomach lurched. The invisible bugs on her arm scurried faster. “You, uh . . . you wouldn’t happen to have a cigarette, would you?”
Czerny paused his work, momentarily thrown. “I’m afraid not. If you’re looking for a chemical relaxant, we have a few on hand that are far less toxic than nicotine.” He eyed her cautiously. “And far more legal.”
She blinked at him stupidly. “You’re telling me cigarettes are illegal?”
Czerny fought another wild grin.
Marvelous. Absolutely marvelous.
“They’ve been contraband for thirty years now. Not that they can’t be found. If you’re truly in need, I can ask my colleagues. One of them might have a pack of Chinese nicquans hidden away.”
Amanda covered her mouth, stifling a black and hopeless chuckle. Czerny gently squeezed her shoulder and reached into his pocket.
“Ms. Given—Amanda—I can only imagine what a trying experience this is for you. But you will adapt. I promise. Until then, here.”
He pressed a warm coin into her hand. Though it was the size of a dime and decagon-shaped, it was clearly a copper-colored one-cent piece. It still said “In God We Trust.” And it still had a side-profile engraving of Abraham Lincoln.
“One of ours,” Czerny told her. “From the pennies we found in David’s pocket, it seems your currency is different, but still a little the same. Next time you’re overwhelmed, just remind yourself that this isn’t completely foreign. This isn’t square one. Things are different, but they’re still a little the same.”
His words, though well intentioned, were worth less than the money he gave her. Amanda looked at the surgical table in the center of the room and thought about her new predicament. She was an otherworldly being in a building full of scientists. It seemed all but inevitable that, dead or alive, she’d end up on that table. And while Dr. Czerny cut Amanda open, the mousy little blonde would scribble on her clipboard, taking copious notes on how the subject’s vital organs were different, but still a little the same.
—
By the time Mia returned to the game parlor, David had switched his interests from astronomy to engineering. A pair of shaky domino towers rose two feet from the surface of the pool table. They’d each been built at subtle angles, meticulously designed to lean toward each other until they ultimately connected. He took a quick moment to process Mia.
“You cleaned up nicely.”
“Thank you,” she said, blushing.
She took a seat in an overstuffed recliner, carefully holding the flaps of her robe. The last thing either of them needed right now was an unscheduled peep show.
“Mia Farisi,” said David, as he placed another tile. “I like the cadence of that. It could work as a single name, like Christo or Madonna. I’m guessing your last name’s Italian. Am I right?”
“It is.”
“Yeah. It was a toss-up between Italian and Turkish, and you don’t look Turkish. May I ask what your surname means?”
Mia found herself smiling even as her brow furrowed. This beautiful Aussie was just a little bit strange. “I don’t know.”
“Tell me to shut up if I’m being annoying. I have the social skills of a rock crab. I think that’s why they put me in here and told me to amuse myself.”
A misplaced domino caused the left tower to collapse in wreckage.
“Son of a bitch.” He gave her a sheepish look. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’ve heard worse.”
He resumed work on the remaining tower. “They took my wristwatch. I hope I get it back. It’s an antique heirloom. Fully mechanical. I have to wind it and everything.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. It kept on working, even when all the electronics died. Were you awake for that?”
“I’m sorry?”
“This morning at 4:41, the electricity went out everywhere, even in battery-powered devices. My father woke me up, all
Amanda’s stomach lurched. The invisible bugs on her arm scurried faster. “You, uh . . . you wouldn’t happen to have a cigarette, would you?”
Czerny paused his work, momentarily thrown. “I’m afraid not. If you’re looking for a chemical relaxant, we have a few on hand that are far less toxic than nicotine.” He eyed her cautiously. “And far more legal.”
She blinked at him stupidly. “You’re telling me cigarettes are illegal?”
Czerny fought another wild grin.
Marvelous. Absolutely marvelous.
“They’ve been contraband for thirty years now. Not that they can’t be found. If you’re truly in need, I can ask my colleagues. One of them might have a pack of Chinese nicquans hidden away.”
Amanda covered her mouth, stifling a black and hopeless chuckle. Czerny gently squeezed her shoulder and reached into his pocket.
“Ms. Given—Amanda—I can only imagine what a trying experience this is for you. But you will adapt. I promise. Until then, here.”
He pressed a warm coin into her hand. Though it was the size of a dime and decagon-shaped, it was clearly a copper-colored one-cent piece. It still said “In God We Trust.” And it still had a side-profile engraving of Abraham Lincoln.
“One of ours,” Czerny told her. “From the pennies we found in David’s pocket, it seems your currency is different, but still a little the same. Next time you’re overwhelmed, just remind yourself that this isn’t completely foreign. This isn’t square one. Things are different, but they’re still a little the same.”
His words, though well intentioned, were worth less than the money he gave her. Amanda looked at the surgical table in the center of the room and thought about her new predicament. She was an otherworldly being in a building full of scientists. It seemed all but inevitable that, dead or alive, she’d end up on that table. And while Dr. Czerny cut Amanda open, the mousy little blonde would scribble on her clipboard, taking copious notes on how the subject’s vital organs were different, but still a little the same.
—
By the time Mia returned to the game parlor, David had switched his interests from astronomy to engineering. A pair of shaky domino towers rose two feet from the surface of the pool table. They’d each been built at subtle angles, meticulously designed to lean toward each other until they ultimately connected. He took a quick moment to process Mia.
“You cleaned up nicely.”
“Thank you,” she said, blushing.
She took a seat in an overstuffed recliner, carefully holding the flaps of her robe. The last thing either of them needed right now was an unscheduled peep show.
“Mia Farisi,” said David, as he placed another tile. “I like the cadence of that. It could work as a single name, like Christo or Madonna. I’m guessing your last name’s Italian. Am I right?”
“It is.”
“Yeah. It was a toss-up between Italian and Turkish, and you don’t look Turkish. May I ask what your surname means?”
Mia found herself smiling even as her brow furrowed. This beautiful Aussie was just a little bit strange. “I don’t know.”
“Tell me to shut up if I’m being annoying. I have the social skills of a rock crab. I think that’s why they put me in here and told me to amuse myself.”
A misplaced domino caused the left tower to collapse in wreckage.
“Son of a bitch.” He gave her a sheepish look. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’ve heard worse.”
He resumed work on the remaining tower. “They took my wristwatch. I hope I get it back. It’s an antique heirloom. Fully mechanical. I have to wind it and everything.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. It kept on working, even when all the electronics died. Were you awake for that?”
“I’m sorry?”
“This morning at 4:41, the electricity went out everywhere, even in battery-powered devices. My father woke me up, all
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