Kat Dancing

###
"... and finally, I do not appreciate your attitude, which I find singularly lacking in respect." Caprice Mondoux folded one arm behind her back and lifted her chin, for a moment the very image of her famous father. "I suggest you remember yourself."

Max gave her a moment more to pose before unfolding one long finger. "First, I am not your employee. I received my commission from your aunt -"

"That old biddy," said Caprice, loosing her poise. "Just because she's too old to have any fun -"

"Second," Max lifted another finger, "even if you were my employer, the Niccosian Code of Conduct expressly states that a bodyguard may contradict his employer if he believes that obedience may in any way threaten or endanger said employer -"

"Oh, stop being such a baby. The Treasure Box is perfectly safe."

"Caprice, may I remind you that I am a Niccosian bodyguard. Men of my training are neither common nor cheap. Considering the kinds of scrapes you get yourself in, you should perhaps consider just how difficult it's going to be to replace me."

That had the salutory effect of shutting her up, at least momentarily.

"Third, we've been sitting in front of this wall for four days, and it seems to be retaining its wall-like nature. Even a bodyguard can get bored. I vote we beat a strategic retreat to some civilized planet, preferably one with a supply of alcohol and some decent food, and forget the whole thing."

"But we're so close!" Caprice waved her recording tablet at him.

"That's what you said about the last three dead ends."

"It's not a dead end. I've done a data analysis on the layout of the Maze and there's a pattern to it - even to the dead ends. This is anomalous."

"That's what you said about the last three, too. My faith in scientific analysis is waning, Caprice."

"This is the last one. It has to be here. My theory -"

"Theories can be wrong. This one is showing all the signs of it."

Caprice changed tactics. "Just one more day. Please? Please, Max?"

"Oh, for - fine. One day. Then we're leaving if I have to tie you up and drag you out."

Caprice gave him one fierce smile of triumph, and then, wasting no time on gratitude, whipped around to face the wall again. Max sighed and trudged off to get some breakfast.
###

So, yes, I'm writing again. For the moment. If it sticks, this will turn into a short story... although for the moment it, like most of my first drafts, is largely dialogue.

My Amtrak tickets to Toronto arrived yesterday. It's real now. New Year's in Canada, here I come!

So the first part of an article I wrote on artificial intelligence is up on Vision. Vision is also becoming a paying market as of next issue. I'm now trying to figure out whether it would be appropriate for me to ask if I'm getting paid for the second half of the article, which Zette has already bought. It's not as if I really care about the money, or will care particularly if I'm not getting paid, it's just... hum. That would be my first paying sale. I'm curious, I suppose.

In other news, testing out BlogWorkz,, which will supposedly be posting this to my page without me having to go through a browser. If so, it'll be a godsend, as Blogger's interface is just annoying.

Oh, and in other news yet, it's my birthday. Woo hoo, twenty-three. Why is it that birthdays somehow loose their thrill after twenty-one or so?