Laughter at the Academy Read online

  From: Eustacia

  What do you suppose brought that on?

  October 11th, 17:00

  To: Stace

  From: Hank

  It probably has something to do with the lab you blew up yesterday. Remember the screaming? Most people don’t like explosions. Explosions are generally considered undesirable in a work environment. This is a work environment.

  October 11th, 17:03

  To: Hank

  From: Stace

  If people don’t like explosions, they shouldn’t hire Gremlins. Explosions are what we do.

  October 11th, 17:11

  To: Stace

  From: Hank

  Trust me, I’m aware.

  October 12th, 17:10

  To: Paul Weston, Facilities Coordinator

  From: Hank Campbell, Lab Tech, Hanger Three

  Twenty-four hours and nothing has exploded, caught fire, or mutated out of control and tried to destroy the world. You owe me several beers and an apology, or I’ll tell Eustacia you called her a purple-haired freak in front of management and inspired the increased attention from HR.

  November 13th, 12:30

  To: ALL EMPLOYEES

  From: Eustacia ni’Aiodhan, Director, Hanger Three

  Please be advised that Hanger Three is currently invisible. This is due to a long and complex series of events that I do not feel like explaining right now. Just trust me when I say that it was all very scientific and necessary to furthering our understanding of the natural world.

  As invisibility does not mean insubstantiality, attempts to walk through the hanger will result in physical injury. Those who have already made this attempt can testify as to the veracity of my statement. If you check your terms of employment, you will find that you cannot sue the company for injuries sustained while goofing around near invisible buildings.

  Also, the next person who spray-paints their name on the invisible wall for the purposes of taking quote, “really funny pictures” will greatly regret it.

  November 13th, 12:42

  To: Hank Campbell

  From: Paul Weston, Facilities Coordinator

  “A long and complex series of events”? Hank, she used the word “veracity” in a sentence. She only does that when she’s smoke screening. What did the whacko Gremlin lady do? More importantly, is she going to get us sued?

  November 13th, 13:04

  To: Paul

  From: Hank Campbell, Lab Assistant, Hanger Three

  She doesn’t know what she did—that’s why she’s using the five-dollar words. Somebody bumped her, she knocked over half a dozen beakers, and the next thing you know, bang, everything non-organic in the structure is invisible. Including the structure. Did you know the Gremlin language has seventy-three ways of saying “lab accident,” and they’re all considered profane? At least she’s cute when she’s screaming herself blue in the face. (I mean that literally. She turns bright blue. Very disconcerting.)

  I’ll let you know when the lab comes back. And no, we’re not getting sued, because the employee regulations have a section on invisibility. Seriously. I looked it up, it’s really there, everybody signed it. We’re in the clear.

  November 13th, 13:06

  To: Stace

  From: Hank

  Paul’s already sniffing around to find out whether we can sell this. He also wants to know if we’re going to be facing a lawsuit. Apparently, three per year is the company’s limit. It’s a little low, but it’s what the boss wants.

  November 13th, 13:09

  To: Hank

  From: Stace

  If they have such a problem with being sued around here, they should stick with hiring boring human scientists. Those almost never get people sued.

  November 13th, 14:11

  To: Alexander Peterman, CEO, Polytechnic Engineering and Research

  From: Eustacia ni’Aiodhan, Director, Hanger Three

  I apologize for the current apparent absence of my lab—but there is a logical reason behind it! It’s even a good one, mostly, if you comprehend the interaction between common household cleaners and chemicals imported from Faerie.

  Short form: I knocked over several beakers of Underhill-grown yarrow and pennyroyal, and Mr. Campbell insisted on cleaning the mess, rather than permit me to inhale pennyroyal fumes and potentially damage the soft tissues of my lungs. Unfortunately, he decided to do so with industrial-strength army-issue floor cleaner. I am sure you see the logical and tactical error implicit in this decision.

  By the time I recognized it, however, the flash explosion had occurred, rendering lab, equipment and employees invisible. A thorough washing in a primrose/oak solution returned the employees (and associated organic materials) to standard visibility, but was unable to do the same to the lab, which I estimate will become visible again in approximately six days, when the stability of the initial chemical reaction wears off.

  This may have potential local and military uses. In the meantime, however, we have been unable to locate Greg Masterson; if you step on someone you can’t see, please tell him to come and check in with me.

  December 2nd, 9:55

  To: ALL EMPLOYEES

  From: Eustacia ni’Aiodhan, Director, Hanger Three

  Would whoever thought it was funny to release fabric-eating locusts into my hanger during a presentation to the board of directors please see me at once? I wish to thank you for increasing my project funding by a factor of ten.

  Please confirm that HR has contact information on your next of kin before visiting.

  December 2nd, 10:40

  To: Hank Campbell

  From: Stace

  Hank, how could you? Those locusts ate my favorite lab coat, as well as the clothes of everyone else in the room. There are things in this world that I was not meant to see! Mr. Peterman devoid of clothing is among them. I may not sleep for a week.

  December 2nd, 10:53

  To: Stace

  From: Hank

  Consider it revenge for whatever stupid-ass thing you’re going to do next.

  December 2nd, 11:06

  To: Hank

  From: Stace

  The assumption that I’m going to do something you could describe as “stupid-ass” is species-based profiling.

  December 2nd, 11:30

  To: Stace

  From: Hank

  And yet, still not wrong.

  December 30th, 17:04

  To: Alexander Peterman, CEO, Polytechnic Engineering and Research

  From: Eustacia ni’Aiodhan, Director, Hanger Three

  I need to requisition one (1) replacement vacuum chamber, three (3) replacement valve systems, two (2) gallons of pure yarrow extract, ten (10) pairs of goggles and a new lab technician, as my previous assistant on this project has stalked out muttering something about “damn workaholic Gremlins.” Mr. Campbell has requested a week’s reassignment to hanger two on the basis of not crushing my skull like an egg. I petition that this request be granted, as I enjoy having an uncrushed skull.

  For the year to come, please assume I will require my budget from last year, plus the standard 15% increase. Also, given current progress and project status, I estimate we will require a new lab building no later than March, due to the total destruction of hanger three.

  January 5th, 16:02

  To: ALL EMPLOYEES

  From: Eustacia ni’Aiodhan, Director, Hanger TBD

  Please watch for falling debris in the area of what was previously designated as hanger three, as the anti-gravity effect which caused the hanger to explosively disassemble itself is still collapsing, and has been showering the surrounding area with rubble at a rate of approximately one hundred and fifty pounds (150 lb.) per hour. You do not want to be standing underneath my kiln when it comes down.

  In other news, Michael Lewis, Jonathan Crimin, and Louise Simmons are missing, and believed to still be located within the flying hanger. Should you see one of your fellow employees making an abrupt, unplanned descent from their current l
ocale, please assist them by providing a soft object on which they may land.

  January 5th, 16:09

  To: Alexander Peterman, CEO, Polytechnic Engineering and Research

  From: Eustacia ni’Aiodhan, Director, Hanger TBD

  So my estimate was a little short. Is hanger four available yet?

  January 22nd, 12:33

  To: Hank

  From: Stace

  I said I was sorry I accidentally levitated your favorite hammer into the Pacific jet stream. Are you done being mad at me yet?

  January 22nd, 12:50

  To: Stace

  From: Hank

  No.

  February 10th, 10:48

  To: ALL EMPLOYEES

  From: Eustacia ni’Aiodhan, Director, Hanger Four

  Thank you to everyone who has assisted with the relocation of my surviving lab equipment and assistants into hanger four. I did not, however, appreciate the inclusion of the photographic spread from the locust incident, or the sudden inexplicable invasion of giant ants. Would whatever amateur entomologist we have here on at the office please cease and desist immediately, before I am forced to retaliate in kind? You don’t want me to start down that road, you really don’t. I have a deviant and twisty mind when it comes to taking revenge for someone filling my vacuum chamber with giant ants.

  February 10th, 16:31

  To: Alexander Peterman, CEO, Polytechnic Engineering and Research

  From: Eustacia ni’Aiodhan, Director, Hanger Four

  ANTS! ANTS ANTS ANTS ANTS I HATE ANTS!!! Make this stop. I request that Mr. Campbell be reassigned to my hanger, as he needs to crush someone’s skull like an egg.

  March 2nd, 9:23

  To: ALL EMPLOYEES

  From: Eustacia ni’Aiodhan, Director, Hanger Four

  The area surrounding hanger four is currently suffering temporal flux. If you are not immortal and do not wish to re-experience puberty, please avoid entering the area marked off with the yellow flags for the next four days. Those employees already reduced to an age below the cut-off point for gainful employment in the state of California will retain all standard benefits, but will be required to re-enroll in school at the appropriate grade.

  Those employees over the age of sixty-five may negotiate brief trips into the field if they wish to delay retirement.

  March 2nd, 14:51

  To: ALL EMPLOYEES

  From: Eustacia ni’Aiodhan, Director, Hanger Four

  Please stop using the time distortion field to age your cheese. It is an inappropriate use of scientific resources, and anyway, you can’t start with Velveeta and expect to get anything decent out the other end. Go to the grocery store and buy something worth consuming if you insist on putting the fruits of twisted science into your mouths.

  Amateurs.

  April 19th, 15:17

  To: Alexander Peterman, CEO, Polytechnic Engineering and Research

  From: Eustacia ni’Aiodhan, Director, Hanger Four

  I am afraid neither I nor any of my staff will be reporting for work for the next three days, as we have managed to accidentally unlock the secret of gender inversion. In other news, we are now the only all-female work-crew within the company.

  In order to attempt reversion of this process, I will need five hundred pounds (500 lb.) of clean liquid-state protein, contained in a sterile vat. I will also require seventy boxes of industrial gauze and seventy pounds (70 lb.) of the best chocolate you can locate. This is very, very important.

  April 19th, 15:17

  To: Stace

  From: Hank

  I am going to kill you. Just as soon as you fix this.

  Don’t think retrieving my hammer means that I won’t.

  May 16th, 16:11

  To: Alexander Peterman, CEO, Polytechnic Engineering and Research

  From: Eustacia ni’Aiodhan, Director, Hanger Four

  Regarding those employees who have chosen to stay female: I don’t know what you’re supposed to tell their wives. If they turn down the reversion, I cannot legally force them to accept medical attention. Please do not yell at me—it’s not like this was my idea. Besides, they seem quite happy as they currently are.

  May 16th, 16:30

  To: Hank

  From: Stace

  Still mad at me?

  May 16th, 16:30

  To: Stace

  From: Hank

  Yes. Now take a vacation or I’ll kill you.

  May 19th, 12:42

  To: Stace

  From: Hank

  I got us tickets on the Avalon Ferry. We’re going to go see the dragons spawning. Your time off request has been approved by HR, and your bags are packed. Resistance won’t do you any good. I have a hammer, and I know how to use it.

  May 19th, 18:43

  To: ALL EMPLOYEES

  From: Eustacia ni’Aiodhan, Director, Hanger Four

  First, let me apologize for the infestation of pixies that has inexplicably taken apart hanger two, where that illegal insect modification lab was discovered. I can’t guess what set them off, and certainly have no idea as to their origins.

  I will be away for the next week. Please try not to burn the place down.

  That’s still my job.

  Lady Antheia’s Guide to Horticultural Warfare

  It is rarely as good of an idea to ask me to write steampunk as people think it is. This is sort of an homage to H.G. Wells, by way of Little Shop of Horrors, which I saw at far too early of an age and was forever changed by.

  Lady Antheia seems like she would be a lot of fun at parties, assuming she didn’t eat the hosts.

  1.

  “I sometimes think it would have been better had my first encounter with humanity been a man, and not a woman of low station with no family to mourn her. Better for who, I cannot say.”

  —from Lady Antheia’s Guide to Horticultural Warfare, first printing

  It is customary to begin one’s memoirs at birth. As I was not “born” in the gross mammalian sense, I shall begin instead at a more logical point in time. To wit:

  I was borne to Earth on cosmic winds, falling through chance and the grace of the heavens to root in the soil of Notting Hill. There I grew rapidly to adult stature, devoured a lady’s maid who had the misfortune to come too close to my tendrils, and assumed her form. It was a discourteous way to introduce myself to the human species, but I must beg forgiveness: my kind are not precisely well-mannered when we bud, and must be taught proper behavior before we can be trusted in polite society.

  As servants are rarely found with skin the color of young watercress and hair the color of mature nettles, I presented quite a curiosity when I staggered through the doors of the house which previously employed the now-devoured lady’s maid. I was still in the process of absorbing her memories, and had discovered the directions to her place of employment without acquiring the context that would have allowed me to understand that returning might be bad for my chances of continued survival. Indeed, I was not the only seed to fall to Earth that day. I was simply the only one fortunate enough to eat a lady’s maid whose mistress was sister to a man of science. Sir Arthur Blackwood, botanist in the service of Her Majesty, the Queen of England.

  Where most men would have looked upon my innocent, vibrantly green face and seen a monster, Sir Blackwood saw a miracle in the making: something entirely new to present to Queen Alice, who was so fond of novelty. Alice had been raised a princess, with no hope of the throne, only to find herself elevated and her engagement to the Grand Duke of Hesse cancelled after an ill-timed smallpox outbreak left her the heir to the British Empire. God save the Queen.

  I was presented to Queen Alice on my third day of adult growth, after my mind had finished processing the linguistic and behavioral data harvested from the unfortunate lady’s maid. I was able to curtsey and offer a polite greeting to Her Majesty.

  She was charmed, of course. Who wouldn’t be? I was a well-mannered sapling, and have only grown into my graces as I bloomed and cultivated my b
etter nature. Jill Lane—the lady’s maid I have spoken of—was a great help. She had in her an endless eagerness to please, and I often returned to her deep well of knowledge and propriety as I navigated the echelons of English society. But ah, I am getting ahead of myself.

  How vividly I recall that first day in the Queen’s presence, me unsteady on the bifurcated stems of my legs, Jill’s voice reedy and uncertain in my mind. Queen Alice looked me up and down with the quick eyes of a monarch born, and then turned her attention to Sir Blackwood.

  “Does your green girl have a name?” she asked.

  “She came before us with nothing but her pretty face,” he said. “I have taken the liberty of calling her ‘Antheia,’ after the goddess of flowers and floral garlands.”

  The Queen had smiled. That was all it took to seal my fate within the Empire—for you see, after that, I was a favorite of the Queen, and a novelty unlike any other. That made me the toast of every great house in Britain, opening endless doors, and the manners I borrowed from dear Jill opened still more, until some spoke, half-jesting, of my successful invasion of the nation. They called me their flowering princess, representative of some savage fairy race that dwelt beneath the hills of Ireland, and oh, how they laughed at the idea that I could represent their downfall.