The story of an generator meeting his own fancied characters is a mutual one — and commonly it becomes some sort of metafictional meditation on the nature of authorship and what it imply to be a fictional character . But what if that fabricated character comes from a weird post - apocalyptical human race , and it was kind of a icky floor ?
David J. Schwartz ’s “ Bear in negate Landscape , ” in the new issue of Apex Magazine , is a really disturbing , crazy version of the “ generator meet his own fictional characters ” figure , in which meeting one ’s own creations is just a accelerator for the unraveling of reality itself . And the onslaught of a mountain of weird animal metaphors . Here ’s how it begin :
I did n’t recognize Eddie at first . He got on the train at Division , sat down opposite me , and every clock time I glance up from my book he was staring at me . He wore a trench pelage over a bluish grayish Marco Polo shirt and khakis . Sweat stood out on his brow .
As grovel out as I was , there was something intimate about him . I shut the Holy Scripture and met his gaze . “ Do I screw you ? ”
“ I ’m Eddie , ” he said , and then , when I did n’t react , “ Eddie Olstrowski . ”
It learn me a moment . “ Eddie from … ? ” I could n’t fill in the mentation .
“ Yes . ” He offer his manus , and we shook across the aisle of the train .
“ How ” was too gravid a question to set off with , so I went pocket-sized . “ Is Ann here ? ”
He nod . “ At the house . We have two kid . ”
The power train was slowing down as it draw near the westerly stop . “ I have to get off here , ” I say . “ Can we have tiffin ? Something ? ”
He dug out his wallet and extracted a clientele card . “ Call me at the billet . ” He flush as he articulate it ; I was n’t sure why . By that time I had to hurry off the string , and a minute afterward he was gone .
Outside the el station an old humankind asked me what day it was , and for a 2nd I was n’t trusted . I walk to my flat , numerate the blocks . In an skittle alley two blocks from home , a group of kid were chase the side of a brick building in the twilight , spraying unrecognisable sigils around a massive portrait of a biped lapin . They stared as I approached and express mirth when I walk by .
liter was on the lounge with a book when I walked in . “ How was your twenty-four hour period ? ” she asked .
“ I contact one of my character . He gave me his card . ” I pass on it to her .
Read the rest over in Apex ’s young takings , which also includes a reprint by Maureen McHugh .
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