* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

                      SEX, LIES, AND NECROMANCY

                                  by

                    Daniel Parsons and Brandi Weed

               "Force is but might," the teacher said
                    "That definition's just."
               The boy said naught but thought instead,
               Remembering his pounded head,
                    "Force is not might but must!"
                                   -- Ambrose Bierce

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Fade in from black.  Cue scene: a small room, with a bald, bland
little man with big glasses staring me in the face.
     SFX: A thin tenor voice, saying: "No. 12, you were found after
having broken into the Citizen's Advice Bureau.  Can you account for
your actions?"
     The words didn't quite make sense.  Janie made the most logical
reply she could think of. "Huh?"
     "Number 12, you were found inside an office of the Citizen's
Advice Bureau, having climbed in through a window.  How do you account
for yourself?"
     "Uh... I thought I saw someone, but when I looked, he was gone?
So I went in to look, and then the gas got turned on."
     There was scribbling, like someone writing.  Writing?  Thought
they taped everything around here.  Janie looked around the room.  It
was small, with white, plastic-looking walls, a couch and a chair.
She was on the couch, he in the chair.  No restraints on the couch, no
one else in the room, just a security camera over the door.
     "Wow.  A visible camera," Janie said.
     The bald man looked up at it.  His badge said 24. "This is the
hospital, No. 12.  We were concerned for you.  When you awoke, the
nurse called for me.  Who was this man you said you saw?"
     "He was... I thought I recognized an old friend of mine, from
before."
     He leaned forward. "Who was this friend?"
     "I went to college with him. I think... I think he was into
physics."
     More scratching. "Very good, No. 12.  We are sorry that the
automatic defense systems incapacitated you, but the Citizen's Advice
Bureau contains many things of great importance to the Village.  If
you enter the building, it is best to do it through the door."  He
stood up. "We are sorry for your inconvenience.  You are welcome to
stay here, until the effects of anesthetic have worn off.  And you are
free to leave at any time."
     "Sure."  Janie managed a smile.
     No. 24 did not smile; his expression was unreadable.  Must be
taking lessons from 2. "Good afternoon."
     After a few minutes, the last of the cobwebs faded away.  The
door was, indeed, unlocked, with a long hallway outside.  There were
doors every ten feet or so, some of them open, revealing rooms just
like hers.  At the end of the hall, a lounge with some chairs, a TV
set, and a door to the outside.
     It looked like it was still the same day outside, yet.  Blustery,
with high clouds racing along above the trees.  Janie decided to stop
by the General store.  It was another perfect day for flying a kite.
     With sticks, glue, cloth, and a spool of thread, another bright
blue kite was soon flying, this time off the top of the lighthouse.
The kite messenger sailed up the thread, bearing its message wrapped
in plastic wrap: "Help!  I'm being held prisoner in an Chinese kite-
making factory!"  When it was safely up, Janie cut the thread and
watched the kite sail out over the ocean.
     It was a good day; the kite went out of view without hitting the
water.  Maybe it would go far enough for someone else to find it.
Janie wondered if she should have put a real message in the messenger.
This was a very windy day, and could carry a kite far away.
     But there was no point thinking about it now.  Besides, throwing
away a good chance might confuse them.  Janie came down from the
lighthouse and went walking.  She was lost in thought, when she came
upon something very surprising.
     In the window of the Village Specialty Store, a mannequin wearing
a purple merry-widow with lacy trim had been set up.  Other bits of
daring underwear were on display beside it, with a selection of
vibrators tastefully arranged on the lower shelf.  Gingerly, Janie
opened the door.
     The interior of the store had been taken over by pink and white
laces and ruffles.  Naughty things for both women and men were
displayed on the walls and racks, novelties, games, even a bowl of
wrapped condoms on the counter, each with its own little pennyfarthing
on the wrapper.  Ardrin was at the counter, buying something.
     "What are you doing?" Janie asked incredulously.
     Ardrin grinned, and showed her his purchase, a box of obscenely
shaped chocolates. "Figure Angel will like this?"
     "Oh, that'll provoke a righteous tizzy.  Aw, they're milk
chocolate.  That's no good."
     Ardrin shrugged. "Not like she's gonna eat 'em."
     "Yeah, but then I might get them.  I don't care what they look
like, there's no sense turning your nose up at good chocolate."
     "Should I leave 'em on her table or her bed?"
     "Put them just so on her pillow, then jump out of her closet
doing the Bolivian Fire Dance while chewing leather fringe.  No, wait,
they don't have leather here."
     Ardrin slowly blinked. "Uh... whatever.  I'm gonna go do it.  See
you around."
     "Ta ta," Janie giggled, and looked around the store.  Seeing it
up close, some things struck her as unusual.  A lot of the lingerie
was sized larger than you'd see outside.  That's good, she supposed;
they don't assume all women are small and skinny.  Also a rack of
boxers and bikini briefs, in what looked like silk but was probably
rayon.  They also came in large, extra large, and double-XL.  Janie
wasn't sure she'd want to see the fellow who'd wear those.  Strangely,
there weren't any books or pictures.
     Feeling more than slightly bemused, Janie left the store and went
to find some lunch.  Shouldn't have been surprising; everything in the
Village was familiar but warped.  If the Villagers could have naughty
underwear, but no erotica, who was she to puzzle over it?

                             *     *     *

     The Food Committee was having another meeting, according to the
Tally Ho!, so Paul went over to attend.  Idly, he wondered if they'd
still be talking about waffles.  Probably.
     The committee room wasn't quite so full this time.  Good, he
wasn't the last one here.  As he sat down, No. 119 stood up.
     "Now that we are all present, shall we discuss the matter of
dinner on August 1?"
     Damn, Paul thought, last one here again.  He didn't recognize any
of his fellow committee members.  Did they change the whole committee
since three days ago?  "Excuse me?"
     "Yes, No. 13?"
     "What day is today?"
     "It is July the 28th.  May we continue?"
     Paul looked around the table.  Everyone sat passively, staring at
him glassy-eyed.  "Sure."
     "The chair proposes Pasta Salad." No. 119 looked around the
table. "Votes aye?"
     "Aye," everyone at the table said.
     "Carried unanimously.  Breakfast on the 2nd: the chair proposes
Waffles with strawberry jam.  Votes aye?"
     "Aye," everyone at the table said, just as apathetically.
     Carried unanimously.  Lunch on the 2nd: the chair proposes..."
     And the chair droned on and on.  Paul never actually voted, but
it didn't seem to matter.  Shortly, the menu for the next few days was
set, No. 119 rapped his gavel and the meeting was adjourned.
     As they were leaving, Paul sidled up to one man. "Went about the
same as last week."
     The man shrugged. "I was just doing my duty."
     "I wonder why we didn't have pancakes?"
     "Who knows?  This is only my second meeting, I don't know what's
going on." A thought dawned on him, and he looked up suspiciously.
"Hey, you weren't here last time."
     Paul winked. "Of course I was.  I was the one who wanted pancakes
on Thursday, remember?"
     The man just looked confused. "No..."
     "Oh, I remember, you're not in our secret club." Paul patted the
man on the back. "Don't worry, you're just not cleared for that.  Be
seeing you, citizen."
     "What's going on?"
     "You're new around here, aren't you?  That would be telling."
     Paul sauntered off, leaving the man wallowing in confusion.  But
the guy had mentioned being at a meeting before, and they didn't have
these meetings more than every few days.  So, more than a few days had
passed since the last meeting.  Good to have confirmation.



Daniel Parsons                                             Brandi Weed
                   Questions or comments to parsons@indigo.ucdavis.edu
        Available for ftp from ftp.cs.pdx.edu, in /pub/frp/stories/SLN