I doubt you’ll notice anything different.

“That’s a pretty short building as world trade centers go,” I said. “Doesn’t seem like much of an edifice.”

“It’s not much of a target, either,” Nathan replied. “And in any case, it’s bigger than the one in New York.”

Russ is certainly not unscathed though. He lost maybe ten kilograms as well as some of his energy. Still, he’s talking about how he plans on waiting a few years before he buys a new car. At the same time, he’s also comfortable with his mortality. And practical, too.

“If all those other fuckers over thousands of years have figured out how to die,” Russ reasoned, “then I figure I can too.”

Turns out it’s just a trick, or at least it was this morning. Roland was walking his dog in the warehouse district near the docks when a huge Great Dane spotted the quivering greyhound and sauntered over to inspect it.

The greyhound whimpered forlornly until the Great Dane was towering over it. And that’s when the greyhound leapt up and sunk its sharp teeth into the huge dog’s neck. The Great Dane first yelped, then howled in pain as it attempted to shake off the greyhound. Each time the mammoth dog jerked its head back and forth, the greyhound’s teeth twisted deeper into the Great Dane’s neck.

Roland reported the frenzy only lasted twenty seconds or so until the Great Dane fell on its side. When it did, the greyhound released the fallen dog and walked away licking the blood off its mouth.

“That’s wild,” I said, “what a weird thing to happen.”

“Sure was,” Roland agreed. “Italian greyhounds usually go for the kill, but my dog’s lazy more often than not.”

“I know you hate cute names,” she began, “but I thought these bottles of ‘Nasti Spumante’ and ‘I Can’t Believe It’s Not Vinegar!’ would appeal to your peculiar palate.”

She was, of course, right.

The “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Vinegar!” did, in fact, taste like vinegar, so we drank that bottle first and washed it down with the marginally better wine. I enjoyed a lovely evening; it’s always a pleasure to be with friends who share my particular (lack of) taste.

“I know that one,” she said dismissively, “you got it from Laurie Anderson: what are the odds of having two bombs on the same plane?”

Damn; I never knew Laurie Anderson said that! What’s worse, I can’t remember if I stole that from her or not. I have no compunction about plagiarizing someone else’s idea as long as no one can spot the stolen goods.

I really must make the effort to be a better thief.

“I never heard of any of these authors,” I said skeptically.

“Read it anyway,” Lysandria insisted. “They haven’t heard of you either.”

Even so, I didn’t waste my money. I paid a couple of dollars for the glass hexagonal jar; the container was the product and the comestibles were superfluous.

As a result, I now have a six-sided jar for my hexagonal coins and a round jar for my traditional coinage.