Steven Campbell - Hard Luck Hank - Prince of Suck

“I’m done with Belvaille. Time to relocate. I go where the jobs are.”

“How do you know I won’t stop you?”

“I can be any form I want to be. Unless you stop every ship from ever leaving, I’ll get off.”

“Well, that’s got to be handy for an assassin,” I sulked.

“It is. Take care, Hank.”

“What’s your real name?”

“When I’m an assassin, I’m 19-10. But when I’m living my life normally I think of myself as Jia-Kard.”

19-10 vanished, taking his light with him. Or her.

“Show off,” I said.

I woke up the next day, started to make the long journey off my bed, and found it was quite easy to navigate.

In fact, I spun and almost threw myself onto the floor. I landed on my feet, however.

My feet! I could see them. I looked at my hands, my nimble fingers, my arms that no longer resembled construction pillars.

A chill went up my spine. A chill I could actually feel.

I ran to the bathroom. Ran!

I turned on the light and looked in the mirror.

It was me. My grayish white hair hadn’t changed a bit. But everything else had.

I was small. Not small, but fit. It was my body from a hundred years ago. I flexed. I turned. I patted my chest. I could feel through my hands, through my skin.

I jumped!

I all but giggled like a demented little girl in a tickle factory.

I stared in my mouth, put my fingers in my ears—my glorious ears!

I danced around, twirling and hopping and laughing. If this was a dream, I didn’t want to wake up.

Then I stopped, struck with the sudden realization.

I had died.

I had died and gone to heaven.

I’d finally done enough good deeds to erase my debts.

Just to be sure, I splashed water on my face. I could feel the cool water in my hands. Dripping from my chin and nose. I breathed the water it into my lungs. Coughed.

Even coughing was great.

Cough.

Cough.

Cough.

Okay, maybe not that great. Maybe I shouldn’t breathe water even in heaven.

My mouth dropped open when I realized the possibilities:

Food!

I could taste water, just imagine what food would be like. Real food. I hadn’t tasted sugar in decades. Savories. Sour. By the Blue Stars, give me something sour!

I was hurrying into my living room to reach the kitchen when I saw him sitting there.

Jorn-dole’s golden hair caught the light and he wore a pleasant smile.

I stopped in my tracks.

“Jyonal,” I said to him.

“How did you know it was me?” he answered.

“I don’t know many people who could do this. You modified your own body in the past and offered to modify mine.”

Jyonal was a level-ten mutant I knew from Old Belvaille. He was, as far as I knew, the most powerful mutant in the galaxy. And a drug addict.

“How have you been, Hank?” he asked, casually. As if he hadn’t just reshaped my entire body.

“Uh, fine. You? How’s your sister?”

“You know Jyen. Got married. Divorced. Married. Kids. Divorced. I can’t keep track. I said I wanted to pay you back, but she was against it.”

“Pay me back for what?”

“For saving us,” he said, shocked. “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but when my sister and I first came here, we were in terrible trouble. You took us under your wing and protected us. We would have surely died without you.”

He was painting me to be nobler than I really was. Helping a level-ten mutant was like a Therezian putting his foot on you and “asking” you to be squished—you didn’t have much choice.

“It was my pleasure,” I said.

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I was going to help you at first. I heard all this talk of you destroying the Colmarian Confederation and had to see for myself. If anything, I think you changed for the better. Except for being incredibly unhealthy.”

“Yeah. How did you fix my body?” I asked.

“Well, I didn’t exactly ‘fix’ it. That’s a totally new one. Don’t be upset, but I kind of killed your old body after creating that one.”

I smiled and shrugged. Why would I be upset at someone for killing me? These things happen.

“You see,” he continued, “I take imprints of people who are important to me. I’ve been doing it for decades. I stored your entire genetic make-up from the last time we met. I stored it in the very structure of the city. Though no one could ever see it except me. I used it as a blueprint in creating your new body.”

“Ah,” I said, “so my bones are in the walls?”

“No, just a blueprint and just one wall. I’m glad they didn’t tear it down. All your information could fit on a grain of sand.”

“That’s rather humbling,” I said.

“I had to use your existing brain. Though I stripped away all those excess layers your body makes as best I could. If I used your old brain, you would have forgotten the last eighty years.”

“I’m not entirely sure I would have minded that,” I said.

“So, do you like it?”

“Um. Sure. I mean, it’s my body. There’s not another me around here is there? The big version?” I was concerned we might have to fight or something.

“No. I broke it apart at the atomic level. But you probably want to wait for the filtration system to clean your bedroom. It might make you sick if you were exposed for too long.”

“I could see that,” I said, nodding. I remember getting in conversations like this with Jyonal in the past. You just had to recalibrate your concepts of normality. “Planning on hanging around in Belvaille?” I asked, trying not to sound worried.

“No. It’s a bit too chaotic for me here. I’ll go back home. I like working in my garden.”

I clenched my jaw so I wouldn’t inquire further. But he didn’t care.

“Well, I call it a ‘garden.’ I’m trying to create life. Nothing fancy. I’m not a god or anything. Just want to make some cute pets. It’s not as easy as you’d think, starting from scratch,” he said.

“I bet.” I forced a smile. “You want something to eat?” I hoped us shoveling food might quiet our talking. I had already learned quite a bit more than I wanted to learn.

“That’s okay. This body doesn’t consume food. But I’m happy to watch you eat.”

I went into my kitchen and got my least horrible grub, returning to the living room.

“I noticed my hair is still gray,” I said.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“So you couldn’t fix that?”

“Are you kidding me? Depending on how your brain holds up, I gave you at least another fifty years to live. And you’re worried about gray hair? Buy yourself a wig!”

The novel is over. Really. It’s done. If you purchased this, I sincerely thank you. If you read or listened this far, presumably you liked it, or you are struggling to go to sleep, or you’re in a prison somewhere being tortured.

If you enjoyed the book, I respectfully ask that you purchase it if you haven’t already. Then I can produce more work which will provide valuable entertainment and/or sleep.

http://www.belvaille.com

cover art by Konstantinos Skenteridis

gif animation by oraystudios.com

proofreading by http://lectorsbooks.com/editing

All images and content Copyright © 2014 Steven Campbell

All rights reserved.

Web links may incur a data charge, may not be available at future dates, and are subject to change.