The Glitch in Sleep (28 page)

B.______A Boa Constrictor XL™

C.______A needle and thread

D.______I have no idea

Question 3:
When first invented in the Department of Nature, the butterfly was originally called a:

A.______Flutterby

B.______Winged Marsupial

C.______Margarine Bird

D.______None of the above

Question 4:
The best way to get to The Seems is via:

A.______Closing your eyes and tapping your heels

B.______The secret handshake

C.______A Door

D.______Knowing the combination

Question 5:
The Ice Age was caused by which of the following?

A.______Thermal reduction

B.______A broken thermostat in the Department of Weather

C.______A meteor

D.______Shifting tectonic plates

Question 6:
Flowers get their color by which of the following ways?

A.______Hand-painting in the Department of Nature

B.______Random genetic phenotyping

C.______Johnny Appleseed

D.______Scientists at Merck

Question 7:
At a bedding convention, 400 dealers sold either blankets or sheets or both. If 163 dealers sold both blankets and sheets, and 117 dealers sold only blankets, how many dealers sold only sheets?

A.______86

B.______97

C.______104

D.______120

Question 8:
What delicious fruit was invented in The Seems but was deemed “too tasty” ever to be released in The World?

A.______Watermelon

B.______Kumquat

C.______Star Fruit

D.______Dazzleberry

Question 9:
The “shimmer” on lakes and rivers is a result of which of the following?

A.______Schlerein

B.______The sun

C.______Shimmer Dust

D.______Pollution

Question 10:
When I die, I will go to . . .

A.______Nowhere. Worms will eat my dead, rotting corpse

B.______A Better Place

C.______Heaven

D.______Hell

Question 11:
Choose the set of words that, when inserted in the sentence, best fits the meaning of the sentence as a whole.

Ms. Fergusson’s main criticism of the artist’s rendering of the ancient mammal’s physical appearance is that, unsupported by even a ———— of fossil evidence, the image is bound to be ————.

A.______modicum . . speculative

B.______particle . . supplemented

C.______perusal . . substantiated

D.______fabrication . . obsolete

Question 12:
Having a job that requires you to travel between this world and another would best be described as:

A.______Sounds fun

B.______There are no other worlds

C.______A drag

D.______I’m too busy

1 . A

2 . C

3 . A

4. C

5 . B

6. A

7. D

8. D

9. C

10. B

11 . A

12. A

Now take your score and find out what level of Fixerdom you fit into:

Score of 0—800:

Score of 1000—1800:

Score of 2000—2400:

READ ON FOR A SNEAK PEEK AT BECKER’S NEXT MISSION IN

The Edge of Sanity, The Seems

Sunset Strip, a sub-department of the Department of Public Works, had been built overlooking the Stream of Consciousness, and for good reason. The Seemsian sun set in the north, casting a warm glow over the tranquil back lot, while a pleasant hike down the Path of Least Resistance led to the Stream itself. But perhaps it’s most eye-catching spot was the Edge of Sanity—a jagged outcropping high above the weaving canyon— which attracted many a Scenic looking for a never-before-imagined shade or hue. But it also drew a different sort of visitor.

“How the heck did he get all the way down there?”

Becker lay flat on his stomach and peaked over the Edge. Far below him, a lone figure was huddled on a narrow sill jutting from the face of the cliff.

“No idea,” said his Briefer, kneeling beside him. “But that rock he’s sitting on isn’t gonna hold for long.”

A queasy feeling was working its way into Becker’s stomach. He’d once had a Glimmer of Hope in mind for just such an occasion but he’d been forced to blow it on his very first Mission, so now he had to suck it up.

“Recommendation?”

“Sticky Feet™.”

“Agreed.” Becker pulled the rubber soles from his Toolkit, careful not to touch the bottoms with his hand lest he would have to go to the Department of Health and have them surgically removed. “But set me up a Safety Net™ just in case.”

- - - - - - - -

Many feet below, a tortured artist wearing a thin mustache sat with his arms around his knees. He rocked back and forth, muttering to himself, until his attention was drawn by a handful of silt that trickled down from above. Gazing up, he was amazed to see a lanky thirteen-year-old boy with shaggy hair standing at a ninety-degree angle and looking straight down the face of the cliff.

“Stop right zere!” screamed The Maestro in his thick North-Seemsany accent. This picturesque region of The Seems was famed for cultivating persons of a certain artistic flair— painters, musicians, and especially masters of culinary delights like Twists of Fate or the Snooze—but the rolling hills also engendered a particularly fiery temperament. “You no come closer or I jump!”

“I just want to talk,” said Becker, dangling over the Edge of Sanity.

“Zere nothing to talk about! It is done. Over. Finis!”

The painter punctuated the statement by slamming his fist to the ground, knocking pebbles and baseball-sized rocks out from beneath the ledge. Becker could see that The Sarge was right . . . it wouldn’t hold for long.

“Is it okay if I join you?”

The Maestro ignored him, gazing toward the water with despair. Becker took that as a yes, and found his way to a small crevice that the centuries had carved from the wall. It wasn’t much of a sitting place, so Becker kept his Feet firmly planted on the rock.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not a big fan of high places.” The Fixer knew the key to talking him down was establishing a rapport. “It’s not that I’m afraid to fall, it’s just that there’s always this little voice in my head saying ‘jump, jump, jump’—and someday I’m afraid I’m gonna listen to it.”

“It is probably just ze Mischievous Imp,” said the Maestro without looking up.

“Nah. We caught that guy a couple years ago. He’s up in Seemsberia knitting pot holders and singing ‘Kumbaya.’ ”

Down below, the slightest of chuckles was just audible above the wind.

“Mind if I call you Figarro?”

“You can do whatever you want.”

At least he was talking now, so Becker figured this was the time to strike.

“What happened out there today?”

The Maestro shook his head angrily, but was too filled with disgust to even speak.

“Look at them over zere.” He pointed bitterly to the other side of the canyon, where a gated community and its lavish clubhouse was perched even higher than they.“Yuppie scum in their fancy houses.”

“This isn’t about Crestview.” Becker made a harsh transition to tough love because time was running out.“This is about a very important Sunset that you were supposed to paint tonight but decided to rip into a million pieces instead.”

The Maestro flinched at the implication, and Becker knew that he was starting to get through.

“I can’t help you, Figarro. Not unless you tell me what’s wrong.”

The Maestro sat and stewed for a moment before finally speaking up.

“My entire life I work to make Sunsets zat will remind people of ze beauty of Ze World, bring zem a precious little moment at the end of another hard day. But everything I do— it is for nothing!”

Far down below, the waves in the Stream crashed against the rocks, and Becker again resisted the urge to see what would happen if he . . .

“I brush Hope in ze clouds for people of ze Philippines, and next day, zey are hit by Typhoon. I hide beautiful Memory in shade of pink, but ze person it is meant for is too sick to even look up and see!”

“The Plan works in mysterious ways,” said the Fixer.

“But why must zere be so much suffering?” The Maestro seemed to be asking himself as much as Becker. “Why cannot Ze World be a better place?”

This type of rhetoric sound awfully familiar to Becker and it forced him to ask a very uncomfortable question.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain . . . organization . . . would it?”

“How
dare
you accuse me of being in Ze Tide! I pour my heart and soul on ze canvas each and every day!” Figarro slid another inch forward. If this didn’t turn around in a hurry, not only would there be no Sunset, but there would be no Figarro. “But what is ze point? Ze Maestro makes no difference at all . . .”

And that’s when Becker knew what was really wrong in the Department of Public Works and how he was going to Fix it.

“Au contraire, Figarro.” Becker carefully unclipped his Blinker from his belt. Dotting the view screen of the rubber-buttoned communication device were a host of folders— individual Case Files of those who would be affected by the Sunset (or lack thereof).“With one look at this Sunset, lives can be changed forever . . .”