it moves

This should not be happening. This was ridiculous. This was insane. I seethed. I raged. I could feel my fingernails digging deep creases into the palms of my hand as my fists clenched and unclenched at my sides. His face warm and convivial, hands folded earnestly, my monster sat across the table from me. Not that anyone called him that anymore.

Of all the indignities, that was the worst. I had such high hopes. They would call it Schrader's Monster! And then just a Schrader until some pedant would remind them that that was just the name of professor who made him, not the monster itself, blah blah blah. But now... It was unfathomable what they called him. It was unbearable. It was intolerable. It was oppressive. They called him Darrin.

And now he sat before me and tried to smile sympathetically. It was a gruesome sight - I'd cobbled together his misshapen jaw from an unmatching top and bottom. The resulting underbite should have been a prominent characterization in legends, myths, and Sci-Fi channel movies for years to come. Instead he was kind of meekly self-conscious about it. He steepled his fingers and cleared his throat.

"Father." It was cute at first, and I had let it slide. Now it made me mad. Well, angry. You know what I mean. Anyway. He continued, "I've been meaning to have this conversation with you. I think it'd be a lot more conducive to my development as an individual if I moved out of the castle."

I was livid. I boiled. I erupted. "This is your home! This is where you were made! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a castle in New Jersey? How will I look, here in my castle, without a monster or anything!"

"Dad!" He looked hurt. It was pathetic. It was feeble. It was wretched. "I've requested many times that you not call me that anymore. It's detrimental to my construction of a healthy self-image!"

This is how he talks to me! Whatever happened to "fire bad!"? I wasn't going to stand for it. "This is not up for discussion, Darrin." I spat as much venom as I could into the name. "Here is where you shall stay, and you are not going to read any more of those absurd books! And we are going to drive this filthy hamlet into a pitchfork-and-torches hysteria whether you like it or not!"

He sighed and rose from his chair, his grotesque, hairless head nearly touching the ceiling. "Alright. I tried. If you'd noticed I'd been packing my stuff for the last two days, you would have realized that I hadn't asked to have a conversation with you today because I sought your permission." He turned and walked out, closing the heavy palisade behind him as he left.

I was crestfallen. I was dejected. I was crushed. He'd pay for this. They'd all pay!

clean, renewable power

Terry glared at me from behind thick frames, his beady eyes magnified into normal size by what must have been a near-legendary prescription. I hadn't exactly expected him to be thrilled to see me, but I'd hoped for at least a smirk. As it was, I couldn't even say for sure if the glimmer behind his steely glare was a spark of recognition, or if I was a total stranger to him now. Or worse, a non-person, exorcised from the realm of people he would ever have to consider again. After all, I was the first one to leave the fold. To pursue a life outside the laboratory. Away from the white coats, the formulas, and the long stretches of hours hunched over diagrams spanning six tables pulled together. I looked away.

The atmosphere probably wasn't going to improve, so I just waded right in.

"Hey, Terry." I mumbled. "Good job with the matter-integrator thing. I heard the UN considers you a national-level threat."

"Yeah." He frowned. "Well, they're a bunch of pussies."

"This is my fiancée, Laura." I gestured vaguely at the area beside me, which surprised me by being entirely empty.

She had apparently been hiding behind me up to this point, but seized it upon herself now to step forward and try to ease the tension a bit. Laura was better at these things than I was. She shook his hand warmly.


"So you're the mad scientist Tim used to run around with, huh? I really like your place. It's very uh, bright. Very modern."

The foyer, if you could call it that, went far beyond bright and modern. Every surface was jet-black, spotless, and polished to a shine. The lighting, all bare and fluorescent, was somewhere between dazzling and oppressive. But Terry seemed to loosen a little anyway. That was one of Laura's specialties. If she gave you a compliment, you believed it. They just sounded sincere.

He shifted a bit. "Yeah. Well, I designed this whole place myself. The whole facility. It runs on its own power, an engine that converts my own self-loathing into electricity."


"That's... wow. That's totally incredible. That's brilliant, Terry."

The hallway dimmed. Terry's expression went cold again. "There are some limitations. It's a work in progress." He spun on his heel and motioned for us to follow as he opened a door to go deeper into the complex. The lights slowly flared up even beyond their original brightness as we fell in step behind him.