Hard Luck Hank: Prince of Suck (44 page)

“Well, I didn’t exactly ‘fix’ it. That’s
a totally new one. Don’t be upset, but I kind of killed your old body after
creating that one.”

I smiled and shrugged. Why would I be
upset at someone for killing me? These things happen.

“You see,” he continued, “I take
imprints of people who are important to me. I’ve been doing it for decades. I
stored your entire genetic make-up from the last time we met. I stored it in
the very structure of the city. Though no one could ever see it except me. I
used it as a blueprint in creating your new body.”

“Ah,” I said, “so my bones are in the
walls?”

“No, just a blueprint and just one wall.
I’m glad they didn’t tear it down. All your information could fit on a grain of
sand.”

“That’s rather humbling,” I said.

“I had to use your existing brain. Though
I stripped away all those excess layers your body makes as best I could. If I
used your old brain, you would have forgotten the last eighty years.”

“I’m not entirely sure I would have
minded that,” I said.

“So, do you like it?”

“Um. Sure. I mean, it’s my body. There’s
not another me around here is there? The big version?” I was concerned we might
have to fight or something.

“No. I broke it apart at the atomic
level. But you probably want to wait for the filtration system to clean your
bedroom. It might make you sick if you were exposed for too long.”

“I could see that,” I said, nodding. I
remember getting in conversations like this with Jyonal in the past. You just
had to recalibrate your concepts of normality. “Planning on hanging around in
Belvaille?” I asked, trying not to sound worried.

“No. It’s a bit too chaotic for me here.
I’ll go back home. I like working in my garden.”

I clenched my jaw so I wouldn’t inquire
further. But he didn’t care.

“Well, I call it a ‘garden.’ I’m trying
to create life. Nothing fancy. I’m not a god or anything. Just want to make
some cute pets. It’s not as easy as you’d think, starting from scratch,” he
said.

“I bet.” I forced a smile. “You want
something to eat?” I hoped us shoveling food might quiet our talking. I had
already learned quite a bit more than I wanted to learn.

“That’s okay. This body doesn’t consume
food. But I’m happy to watch you eat.”

I went into my kitchen and got my least
horrible grub, returning to the living room.

“I noticed my hair is still gray,” I
said.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“So you couldn’t fix that?”

“Are you kidding me? Depending on how
your brain holds up, I gave you at least another fifty years to live. And
you’re worried about gray hair? Buy yourself a wig!”

http://www.belvaille.com/hlh3/hankend.gif

The novel is over. Really. It’s done. If
you purchased this, I sincerely thank you. If you read or listened this far,
presumably you liked it, or you are struggling to go to sleep, or you’re in a
prison somewhere being tortured.

If you enjoyed the book, I respectfully
ask that you purchase it if you haven’t already. Then I can produce more work
which will provide valuable entertainment and/or sleep.