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ALIENS BORING, REPORT SHOWS

An official report confirms what most of us have already suspected: that the alien visitors who arrived unexpectedly on the planet four years ago are not particularly bright, nor interesting. The thirteen-page government document describes our interstellar chums as being “dull” and “unable to plan long-term.” The report, which has been compiled from citizenship application forms and interview transcripts, paints a picture of a race who are “prone to put high importance on inconsequential minutiae” and are “easily distracted from important issues.” On an entirely separate note, the aliens were reported to be merging into human society far better than has been expected—the reason for this is unclear.

—Extract from The Owl, June 4, 2001

As they walked back into the office, they found Tibbit standing guiltily by Jack’s chair, which was still moving. He looked like a puppy that had been caught sleeping on the sofa. Jack hid a smile.

“Red rum, Tibbit,” he said.

“Murder?”

“So it appears. Humpty didn’t fall, and he didn’t jump. Mary, we should speak to his ex-wife again.”

Mary picked up the phone, and Jack looked at the photograph of Humpty talking to Charles Pewter, the stockbroker. Humpty’s illogical purchase of Spongg shares seemed as good as anyplace to start an inquiry. He looked at the snap of Humpty with Solomon Grundy. Jack had dismissed him earlier, but now anyone who had a vested interest in the financial health of Spongg Footcare PLC had to be a suspect. He pinned the picture of Humpty and Solomon on the board and stared at it.

Tibbit held up a small evidence bag with two spent twelve-bore cartridges in it.

“These came down from Chymes’s office, sir. DS Flotsam himself brought them in. And do you know what? He’s not really chirpy or cockney at all!”

“It’s an act for Amazing Crime, Otto. Run them across to Skinner, would you? He knows what they’re for.”

Mary opened her notebook and selected a blank page for Chymes’s benefit, then wrote “Grundy,” “.44 caliber,” “28-foot auburn hair” and “Mrs. Dumpty.” She then snapped it shut guiltily and looked up. But no one was watching her.

At that moment two officers walked into the room. One was short and the other long.

The shorter of the two was pale blue in color and had the body layout of a human except with elbows and knees that bent both ways and three fingers and two opposable thumbs on each hand. His police uniform was tailored to fit, but even so he still looked uncomfortable in it. Although Mary had seen pictures of aliens, she’d never actually witnessed one up close before and found herself staring.

“What are you looking at?” asked Ashley innocently, blinking laterally at her, which is unnerving the first time you see it done.

“Nothing,” mumbled Mary, trying hard not to stare, and she looked away, which felt awkward and more rude, so she looked back and then felt she was staring—and the whole cycle went around again.

She felt herself begin to flush, but Jack, whether sensing her discomfort or not, rescued her by saying, “PC 100111 is a Rambosian. His full name is 1001111001000100111011100100, but that’s a bit of a mouthful, so we just call him Ashley. Ashley, this is DS Mary Mary.”

“Hullo!” said Ashley, putting out a hand for Mary to shake. His hand was unusually warm and adhered to her palm with a dry stickiness that was odd but not unpleasant. As soon as she touched him, however, she had a fleeting and extremely vivid glimpse of herself and this strange creature rolling naked in a slimy and passionate embrace in a shallow marsh under twin setting suns. Ashley quickly pulled his hand away, went bright blue and blinked nervously.

“Is that the time?” he said quickly. “I’ve just remembered there’s something I need to do. Good-bye.”

And he darted out the door.

“Rambosians sometimes project their inner thoughts with touch,” explained Jack. “Did you see anything?”

“Nothing,” replied Mary, a little too firmly for anyone to believe her.

“A good lad,” continued Jack, peering out the door to see if Ashley was out of earshot and lowering his voice. “He’s here as part of the alien equal-opportunities program. No one else would work with him, so he came down to us.”

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Я думала, что уже прожила свою жизнь, но высшие силы решили иначе. И вот я — уже не семидесятилетняя бабушка, а молодая девушка, живущая в другом мире, в котором по небу летают дирижабли и драконы.Как к такому повороту относиться? Еще не решила.Для начала нужно понять, кто я теперь такая, как оказалась в гостинице не самого большого городка и куда направлялась. Наверное, все было бы проще, если бы в этот момент неподалеку не упал самый настоящий пассажирский дракон, а его хозяин с маленьким сыном не оказались ранены и доставлены в ту же гостиницу, в который живу я.Спасая мальчика, я умерла и попала в другой мир в тело молоденькой девушки. А ведь я уже настроилась на тихую старость в кругу детей и внуков. Но теперь придется разбираться с проблемами другого ребенка, чтобы понять, куда пропала его мать и продолжают пропадать все женщины его отца. Может, нужно хватать мальца и бежать без оглядки? Но почему мне кажется, что его отец ни при чем? Или мне просто хочется в это верить?

Катерина Александровна Цвик

Любовное фэнтези, любовно-фантастические романы / Детективная фантастика / Юмористическая фантастика