Grown So Close

in

They were practically the same tree, they grew so close together. From when they were seedlings, too young to be aware, to when they took firm root and gained real height, they were together. Everyone thought only one would survive, crowding out the other, catching the light and capturing the earth's nutrients, leaving the other to die.

Not so. They leaned apart and shared what light slipped through the canopy of older trees, and they entwined their roots such that the groundwater fed them both. After the decades grew them taller than the nearby houses, it became clear they were destined to be together. Their trunks had grown over one another at the base. They looked less like two trees than one tree split in two.

The trees had heard many humans talking over the years, which is why they understood these phrases on this particular day. "Signs of rot," they heard. "Angled toward the house." "Better safe than sorry." The next day came the lumberfolk, and of the two leaning trees, only one saw the end of that day.

It would prefer not to fall on anyone, the tree thought. But it would also prefer not to be alone.

Certified Service Animal

in

"You can't bring that on the plane, ma'am." The agent stood beside Beatrice just outside the stuttered flow of already-weary travelers passing through security. He leaned away from her luggage.

Her hand settled protectively on the fabric-and-mesh carrying case. "It's my service animal."

"A spider larger than my hand isn't a service animal!"

"Look, just because it makes you nervous doesn't mean she can't help me! You couldn't stop me from taking my service dog if you'd gotten bitten as a child, could you?"

The agent's supervisor stepped over. "What's the trou—whoaly shit." He flinched away from the Brazilian wandering spider now clinging to the mesh top of the carrying case. "What the hell? Er, ma'am."

Beatrice simply withdrew her certified doctor's note declaring the pet a companion with legitimate medical benefits and held it out. After several minutes discussing the matter with higher pay grades someplace out of sight, the supervisor returned and handed the note back.

"So, uh." He was sweating. "That helps you? Somehow?"

"She soothes me. Helps avoid panic attacks." She tucked the note away and swept up her things.

"I panic less," she murmured as she walked away, "knowing I can have her bite fools."

Why Are You Smiling?

in

The spider smiled at him with a full human grin. Some part of Hu thought it might be mildly less terrifying if the spider were larger than the walnut-sized things before him, but he really didn't want it to be larger, and besides, he would be terrified either way. Perhaps terrifying wasn't something that could be gradated.

"What.... Do you... want something?" The spider continued to smile. It had crawled down the cafeteria wall into Hu's line of sight as he chewed the second bite of his dry turkey-havarti sandwich.

Hu looked around. The rest of the company break room was empty except for the vending machines where he'd gotten his unexciting lunch. He looked back at the spider which, despite his fervent hopes, had not vanished or stopped smiling. "Why are you smiling at me?"

Without warning it sprang at him. He flinched away so hard he fell, and still it landed on his temple. "You'll never get anywhere in this company if you don't ask better questions," came a disturbingly resonant voice (resonating how?). "If you had teeth these fine, you'd be smiling too. So then, where did I get these teeth?"

And with that, it was gone.

À l'arme!

in

Alarms rang in the Pavillon de Breteuil as the sleek black SUV raced away. Howard Putnam drove, known as Howe. Vicky Gallow rode shotgun and held shotgun, stereotypical "progressive 'cause she's a woman" heavy. In the back, techie Leela Invesco and mastermind Ellen Ishitoma, a delirious smile on her face as she petted the secure case in her lap.

City park slid by, the Eiffel Tower peeking into view between patches of trees. As he drove, Howe said, "So, that thing's platinum, right? What's it worth?"

"Oh, about thirty thousand dollars." Ellen giggled. "If you did the stupid thing and melted it down. We're going to change it."

Leela looked up from her anonymized burner phone. "That means what, then?"

"With the international prototype of the kilogram in my hands, I can change the definition of mass. I can make things heavier or lighter. Ten thousand dollars to launch a kilogram to orbit? Not once I change the kilogram!" She laughed. Leela looked blank.

Vicky looked over her shoulder. "You know they redefined the kilogram last year, right? Something to do with the Planck length, I think."

Ellen's face fell slack. "Okay," said Howe. "So how's she gonna pay us?"