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The Tom Plutarch Interview

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A new voice speaks. ‘Okay, Tom. Can we begin?’

‘Please.’

Rustling of papers and plastic.

‘Okay, the dictation machine is on. Cool. This is Sally McDonald from the Incredible or Impossible Magazine, and I have Tom Plutarch sitting next to me.

‘Just for reference, Tom is a millionaire entrepreneur, Buddhist priest, professor of psychology, Nobel- and Pulitzer-prize-winning author, and last but not least, a superhuman mind reader. Tom, when did you start to read other people’s thoughts?’

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Checkmate

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Umam Preth was preparing a deadly concoction of three parts jaffiger and two parts sillin when the robot slammed through the window.

"Hey, Professor," the Vee3 said in greeting. Its manipulator field rolled it upright.

He watched the spilled jaffiger slip through the cracks of the plas-mesh floor. Without the jaffiger, sillin was only mildly noxious. It lapped innocently against the sides of the last martini glass in the universe.

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Old Habits

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This particular saloon wasn't much. He spat again before pushing through swinging doors that were just a hair off kilter. Even the conversations inside were muted, the voices somehow subdued by the ominous and continuous presence of death. Not too different from the old days to be honest, but the afterlife carried a depressing and lackluster aura with it, a cheap facsimile only simulating real life.

The booze didn't burn, the sex didn't titillate, and the bullets certainly didn't do shit in this place. Not anything that hadn't already been done, that is.

The dead cowboy still stalked to the bar like he might be looking for a fight.

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Space Samurai

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Captain Adams personally helped maintenance man Larry Smith out of his EMU spacesuit, apologizing for the malfunction that had stranded Larry outside the Lady Murakami for an unscheduled fifteen-hour spacewalk. Then Larry cut out his own right eye with a pocket laser torch.

"I am the reincarnation of samurai lord, Date Masemune," Larry proclaimed. “Beware!”

Larry threw his liberated eye at Captain Adams and ran away.

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Wendy Woke Up

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Wendy woke up at her desk.  A spindle of drool swayed from her mouth and extended to an oasis of saliva spreading around her face.  She pulled her head off her desk, took a quick look around.  Nobody seemed to notice, phew.  There was Greg, absorbed by the numbers.  And Amy, sorting through a stack of paper that was comedic in size.  The big presentation was happening Friday and they all had been working overtime.

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