Where the Lost Things Are Read Online Free Page A

half-deaf. Amara made her giant guitar pick into a coffee table. She says she can see supersized Waddy fingerprints all over it.
    As for Darly’s earring—like I said, it ended up the size of an earring, spirited off by a crow the size of a crow. Darly shakes her fist at every crow that flies by. But she does it in her signature good-natured way—and her gesture looks like a kindly wave. Just as well. You wouldn’t want to offend the secret masters of the cosmos.
    Oh, and Jack won his Golden Pi! He submitted some video clips from Amara’s google glasses, and the high academic mandarins sent Jack the award via UsFedEx drone. The drone even hovered there to listen to Jack’s acceptance speech, wherein my friend thanked all of us, even Chandler, even the crows.
    The award was round, of course. And quite shiny, almost like real gold.
    Jack lost it, of course. He thinks it might have rolled off the porch.
    That’s why he’s on his hands and titanium knees in the weeds.
    Me, I’m looking up at the sky.
    Nothing is lost.

 

    Copyright © 2014 by Rudy Rucker and Terry Bisson
    Art copyright © 2014 by Chris Buzelli