Visible Wear

I can’t friggin believe it — the Barbies actually won.

How did they win, what did they win, and more importantly what the heck am I talking about? I guess for that answer we’ll have to go back to the start.

—

It was a dark and stormy night.

No, really, it was.

It was the worst storm of the decade. The sky had opened up into a waterfall and water was pouring rather than raining down. Lightning crackled with an almost tangible malice and the thunder rattled your very bones.

It was not a night fit for the living and even shelter provided little comfort.

—

Up until right before the storm hit a war was being waged. A fierce series of battles between two rival factions – the Barbies and the Cabbage Patch. The stakes – the title of favorite dolly. The winner would stay, the loser would leave the toybox and never return.

Both sides had suffered heavy losses.

The Cabbage Patch were several times the size of the Barbies and were very powerful. In melee a single Cabbage Patch doll could wipe out whole groups of Barbies with brutal swipes from their club-like hands, snapping their grotesquely thin waists and long necks.

The Barbies, on the other hand, were light and fast. They could strike a Cabbage Patch doll rapidly and repeatedly, wearing them down with many lighter blows, sending clouds of stuffing in every direction.

The war had gone on all morning and doll parts were scattered across the yard. One could scarcely walk a few footsteps before coming upon a detached head, arm, or torso. It was brutal, it was disgusting, but it was war.

—

By dusk both armies had less than half their original number remaining.

The Barbies were planning their next offensive. Intel Skipper had gathered the location of the Cabbage Patch’s bunker – codename: Spot’s house. A surgical strike team led by Barbie’s best friend Midge would enter in from a secret tunnel at the back of Spot’s house, causing confusion with the unsuspecting Cabbage Patches. As soon as the Cabbage Patch were turned around the main force would attack from the front.

It was risky, but it would be decisive, and a victory was needed before bedtime.

The strike force positioned themselves around the secret tunnel and awaited the signal when the storm began. A call was made for a temporary truce. The strike would have to be scratched – it was time to take this indoors.

—

The chieftain of the Cabbage Patch gazed outside. The ground was covered with tufts of fluffy stuffing which was beginning to soak up the pooling water. The mud sucked many of the fallen on both sides under and the rain swept the rest away. She had lost a lot of close friends and relatives, and even the Ken defector with whom she was engaged. Everyone had said such a union would never work, but they believed it would. Now they would never find out.

It was time to bring this to an end. The Barbie madness had to be stopped, and it had to be stopped now.

There was word that the Barbies had occupied the pink dream house by the dresser. Sentries sat positioned on the roof and patrolled in the pink convertible and on the My Little Pony. The Cabbage Patch were not given to sneak attacks, stealth was not their forte, yet somehow they had to acquire the element of surprise. To this end, the chieftain had one idea – the Trojan Jewelry Box.

The tactic was simple. Two Cabbage Patch would hide inside a large wooden jewelry box with inlaid precious gems. Another would push the jewelry box before the dream house’s front door and promptly leave. The Barbies would not be able to resist the urge to accessorize and would therefore bring the jewelry box in. However, instead of jewelry they would find two fierce Cabbage Patch warriors.

Amid the chaos the remaining Cabbage Patch would assault the confused and distracted guards, disabling the Barbies outer defenses and joining the fray inside.

It would have to work – it was getting really near bedtime.

–

Things had not gone as planned.

The jewelry box had been too heavy for the emaciated Barbies to push or pull in. After a half-hour the lid on the box thrust open and a breathless Cabbage Patch rolled out. The other was passed out cold.

Realizing this treachery the Barbies slaughtered the two Cabbage Patch dolls, rending them apart in their weakened state. The remaining Cabbage Patch saw this and charged forth from hiding. But they had completely lost the element of surprise and the Barbie were on them like a flash.

In the end, while some of the final Barbie forces had perished the entire Cabbage Patch population was diminished.

The battlefield was a showcase in terror. The Barbies walked through looking for survivors and reattachable limbs. Due to a fatal miscalculation the Cabbage Patch had lost.

The Barbies had won.

And now they…

“Karen!”

“What?”

“Karen, it’s time for be-ohmygod. Karen! What have you done to all your dollies?”

“I was playing war mom – for doll supremacy.”

“God Karen, why can’t you just play with dolls like most little girls? Huh? You wait right here and I’ll go get your father”

—

Their enemy only freshly defeated it seemed the Barbies had a new problems on their hands.

“So, you’re really gonna do this, Joe?” Otto asked. He slapped a pile of ground beef on the counter before Joseph, the meat making an unpleasant squelch as it hit the laminated surface.

Joseph let out a queasy belch, acid burning at the back of his throat as something tried to come up with it. He looked up at Otto’s bald egg-shaped head and saw the look of genuine concern on his friend’s face.

“God Otto, you’re not helping me any here.”

“But Joe, why you gotta do this, hunh?”

Joseph dug his fingers into the ground beef and began pulling at it, the pink tangled wormy mass coming apart. For a moment his vision blurred, then it focused on the pinkness, like organ-meat, tearing apart.

“I’ve just got to Otto. You don’t understand, I’ve just got to.”

Joseph’s massive friend let out a sob and Joseph understood exactly why. Only a handful of people who underwent the procedure lived to talk about it, or they would — if they hadn’t all gone mad.

—

“Very good, Joseph. The interfaces we implanted last week have taken well. Your neurons have successfully adhered to all of the titanium contact points. Now we’re just going to connect and overlay the neural network mesh and upload your avatar.”

Joseph looked up at the surgeon’s masked face – consciousness during operation being standard operating procedure for brain surgery. Bright lights flooded the sterile environment of the operating room and the effect combined with the faint foreign scent of one’s own organs was sickening. Lying on the operating table was Joseph, his forehead divided by a protective barrier. One side of the barrier was his face, the other side was his exposed greymatter.

At that very moment the doctor was attaching a paper-thin, slime-coated supercomputer to chips now permanently embedded in Joseph’s brain. Rather than focus on that point Joseph chose to be glad that at this very moment his hospital-issued gown wasn’t exposing everyone to his ass crack.

—

“Mr. Lane?”

The head nods.

“How’s the hearing, Mr. Lane?”

The hands cover the ears.

“Okay, I’m adjusting the sound. Now?”

Right hand, thumb up.

“How about brightness and color?”

Left hand, thumb up.

“Now, Mr. Lane, I want you to say something.”

“Something.”

The voice sounded familiar yet different – kind of like an accent I couldn’t quite place. The doctor chuckled.

“Okay, Mr. Lane, let’s try standing now.”

—

“Joe?”

Otto. I haven’t seen his face in three months.

“God Joe, I’ve been worried sick.” It shows.

Eyes stare blankly at Otto. They don’t recognize him anymore.

It takes a moment longer before Otto says, “Oh,” and turns away.

The big man disappears into the kitchen. I don’t see him again.

—

I’m going fucking crazy. I can’t stand this anymore. It’s not worth it.

I don’t fucking care if it’s just another two months – I’ve barely made it the past ten. I can feel my mind coming apart, just like that greasy hamburger meat. Fingers of madness are digging in, separating the folds and pulling me apart.

I can’t stand it.

I can’t stand it.

I can’t stand it.

—

Lane!

I’ve finally done it – I’ve broken through.

Lane!

Hands clutch at the head, thumbs dig into temples.

“No! Shut up! Go away!”

It’s been a year and three months Lane. Our deal was one year. One whole fucking year. Do you have any clue what that year does to you? Do you? And now you’re trying to pull this shit?

“I can’t give this up. I just can’t.”

I try to raise my right hand. Nothing.

I try harder. Nothing, then, a flick from the wrist.

“Wait, what are you doing? None of this should be even possible.”

I make my left knee buckle and catch before falling.

Let’s work on walking, shall we?

The skin turns cold and clammy, shivers run down the spine.

—

“Mr. Lane? You were due back,” the good doctor types on his keyboard with two fingers, “four months ago. We’ve been wondering if, I mean when, you’d be coming back.”

“Sorry about that. Lost track of time. Let’s get going, shall we?”

“Certainly, Mr. Lane. I just happen to have an opening tomorrow at three. See you then?”

I nod my head.

“Great, see you tomorrow at three.”

—

There’s a knife hovering a few inches above my eyes. I’m struggling against a man who is trying to kill me. I’m holding his wrist with my strong arm and he’s attacking with his weak one. He’s very determined though and I’m having trouble holding him off.

Eventually he gives up. Determined as he was to kill me I was even more determined not to die. And for him to have killed me would have been his loss too.

Still, I don’t sleep anymore that evening.

—

“Joseph?”

I look at the doctor and blink once.

“I’ve cleared the buffers, it’s all yours again.”

Little did he know just how long I’d been running the show. Mostly, anyhow.

“How are you feeling?”

My mouth is dry, I start to talk and cough dryly. The doctor hands me the glass of water on the stand beside me and I take a sip, spilling a little on the crisp white linen.

“Like shit, doc. Lane didn’t hold very good to his end of the bargain.”

“I know Joseph. The money’s been deposited to your account. That includes the hundred-thousand for the year plus fourty-thousand more for the extra four months.”

“Lane?”

“Hasn’t gone anywhere. He’s still in ward B, comatose as ever.”

Son of a bitch was back where he belonged.

—

“Mr. Chen?”

The money’s gone.

One-hundred fourty-thousand dollars doesn’t go very far when you’ve got a lot of mouths to feed. Especially the kinds of mouths where you either feed them or they break your knees. I’ve got debts to pay and flipping burgers wasn’t cutting it.

“Mr. Chen, nod if you can hear me.”

The head nods.

Here we go again.

Iliana turned hard to avoid the jagged reef. She had been in such a hurry that she hadn’t seen the black rock and had almost run up on it. Her heart was racing as she looked around at the island before her and recognition set in. This is where she had seen him, there up on the cliff – the hawk boy. He had seen her too but she didn’t know that, yet.

She scanned the cliff from her low vantage point and was disappointed when she couldn’t find him. This was an area far past her people’s domain, where the water grew shallow and turned to land. This place offered no shelter from the sun and no depths to dive to away from predators.

The danger inherent in such a place only brought fire to a rebel soul which refused restriction as hers did. What danger could these waters beyond their realm possibly offer? The depths brought sharks, rays, giant squids, and whales. How could anything in these shallow waters compare to the terror of a great white baring down upon you with rows of razor sharp teeth threatening to tear you apart?

It was ludicrous and unbelievable. Utter fiction made up to keep her people in line.

It was only yesterday that she had come upon this place. She had been swimming long and hard for several days, the water growing shallower, the sky growing brighter, only stopping for food and sleep. She had seen the water end ahead and stopped to rise above the surface. What she had seen had taken her breath away. It was similar to things she saw underwater, and yes, she surmised, it had probably all once been underwater. But now it was above the surface of the sea and plants and creatures she had never before seen occupied it.

And there, just at the edge of the cliff, was the hawk boy. He was covered in a soft brown scale and had wings like a manta from which those soft scales fell and floated away. A hard, sharp looking mouth grew from his face and his tail split into two feet on which he stood and from which protruded sharp claws.

He was utterly bizarre, ugly, and frightening, and she was irresistibly drawn to him.

Today, however, there was no sign of him and she had better things to do than sit in those shallows and wait. But still, she thought, perhaps a few more moments.

“You! In the water! I saw you watching me yesterday. Who and what are you?” a voice declared as a shadow passed over Iliana. She looked upward to see an outline of a body with hugely spread wings and clawed limbs set against the bright sky.

“I am Iliana of the merfolk,” she replied, projecting her thoughts into his mind.

“What? How did you do that and how do you speak hawk?” he again shouted.

“I do not speak hawk. I spoke to you with my mind, as I do all the creatures in the deep. Now, do me the courtesy of introducing yourself in return.”
“I am Karr of the hawk, fifth son of Skree,” Karr said aloud. Then, venturing just thinking his speech said, “I’ve patrolled this area for sixteen years now and I’ve not seen anything like you before.”

“Nor I you.”

Iliana awaited a reaction from Karr to her mental probing. That no thoughts were secret to her was likely a shock, but Karr gave no indication of further surprise. But then, they had both just made the acquaintance of a being far different from any they had previously known. Greater surprise would have been hard to come by.

Karr circled once more before landing on the black rock. His clawed feet again holding his body upright, his great wings folding along his back.

“How is it that you can glide above the water, Karr?”

“How is it that I can fly? I don’t know, I just do. How about you, how do you move as you do underwater?”

“I use my tail to swim, mostly.” Iliana laughed. “I use my arms too, and my scales certainly help. Really I’m made for swimming. Your scales seem different, do they help you to… fly, was it?”

“Scales? These?” Karr asked, lifting his right wing as Iliana nodded. “These aren’t scales – they’re feathers, and yes, they do help me to fly. I don’t think I could without them.”

“Feathers,” Iliana repeated. “And tell me Karr, those claws on your feet, you’re a hunter?”

“Yes, my people are great hunters. I often sight prey from high above and catch them a heartbeat later. I’ve even plucked fish from your sea.”

“Oh?” Iliana said with interest “what sorts of fish?”

“Mostly a big fish, blue, yellow fins at the back. They put up a good fight but are no match for my talons.”

“Oh! Yellow fins!” Iliana exclaimed. “That sounds like a tuna. They are delicious aren’t they?”

“Yes.” Karr answered, feeling a little self-conscious for the first time.

Iliana studied Karr with great interest and Karr felt the blood rising in his head. He too was fascinated by Iliana but tried not to show it as openly.

Finally, he asked “Will you keep coming to speak with me, Iliana?”

Iliana’s pale face lit up at this question and her light blue lips parted in a smile.

“Yes, of course I will. I have much I still wish to know of this world of yours as I expect you also have questions of mine. And more than that, I want to know more about you.”

“Then let’s meet here each day, Iliana, at this time when the sun is burning the horizon. I do have much to ask you and I too wish to know of you as well as your world.”

“So it will be then, Karr, my friend.”