Monster - A. Lee Martinez [29]
“Before adolescence, all children are light cognizants,” said Monster. “That lets you pick up the basic concepts. Later, when Merlin’s lobe is reabsorbed, it’s in there.” He tapped his temple. “Even if you think it’s only make-believe.”
“Then how do I know what’s real and what’s not?” she said.
“When I was a kid, I had an imaginary friend named Sharon. She was a stegosaurus. Was she real?”
“I doubt it.”
“Why? Aren’t dinosaurs real?”
“They were. At least, I think they were. But then again, unicorns were never real, so who knows?”
“How can I trust anything?” Judy asked. “If my memory is so unreliable, how can I even be sure this conversation is taking place?”
“You can’t.”
“I should just stop trying?”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” he said. “You’re in the worst place to be. Being a light cog sucks. I’d tell you to stop, but it wouldn’t make much difference. You’d still keep running across magic, remembering and forgetting over and over again. That’s just the way it is. Sorry to be the one to break the news to you. Although I’m probably not the first one. Probably won’t be the last either.”
She snarled.
He considered telling her the truth. It would get better. Her lobe would continue to decay over time until she became a full incog no longer having to deal with light cog confusion. The downside was that light cogs had a much higher likelihood of crippling senility and/or mental illness in their golden years. He elected not to mention any of it out of vague sympathy.
Judy pulled in to a convenience store. She announced she was getting a candy bar and jumped out of the car before Monster could say anything else that might annoy her. She was beginning to think he was right. Just forget the whole thing and get on with her life. Occasionally she might run into something strange, get a glimpse of this other world. She must’ve done it all the time, if these last few days were any indication. It hadn’t hurt her so far to just let it go.
Even if she did find a way to remember, she couldn’t do this job, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. She didn’t know why she was bothering. It was more frustrating than anything else.
She wasn’t in the mood for a candy bar, but she’d said she was going to buy one, so she just grabbed something randomly from a shelf. There was a short line at the checkout. Three people were ahead of her, and the lady at the counter was buying lottery tickets with all the care and eye for detail one usually saves for bomb disposal.
“How many Lucky Duck Bucks do you have left?” she asked the clerk.
“Ten.”
“Oh, that’s good. The last ten are usually the lucky ones.” She turned and repeated it to the customers behind her.
Judy tensed, squeezing her candy bar into a misshapen lump within its wrapper. The petite woman in front of her sighed with annoyance. The lottery lady was unaware of these signs and continued her methodical task.
Judy tore open the wrapper and took a bite. It didn’t have nuts. She hated chocolate without nuts. Grimacing, she forced herself to swallow and realized now that she’d opened it, she was going to have to pay for the damn thing.
Judy grabbed a magazine off a rack and flipped through it without reading it. The line still hadn’t moved an inch when something weird got in line behind her.
The creature was short, with pale, scaly skin and pointed ears. It had a tail too. It was wearing slacks, a nice jacket, and a tie. And it was buying a six-pack of beer, a bottled water, and a hot rod magazine.
It caught her looking at it and nodded. “Hello.”
“Hi.” She buried her nose in her magazine. Now was not the time to panic. She’d been waiting for a chance to see if she could make it as a cryptobiological handler, and now the opportunity was right in her lap. Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t human.
She stole a glance over her shoulder. The creature smiled and nodded again. Judy,