AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

A movement in the corner of my eye flashed. 

   “Kyle, Kirsten. It’s not a good place to test….AHHHHHHHHHHH” 

The “ahhh” was the sound of me screaming. I was screaming because, while I had been happily playing around with some world-building aspects of my latest science fiction, now instead of words on the page all I saw was a swirl of neon lights. And while I had been trying to understand the scientific and philosophical impact of bionic technology in a near future world, I was suddenly only feeling a warm sensation growing in the general area of my forehead and neck. 

 And where I had been thinking about how realistic it was for a black cat to head up a dangerous mission for a disembodied human mind, I now had only one thought. 

  That thought being the afore-mentioned “ahhhhhhh”

  This is why its so hard to get work done at PFW offices. 

  I should have gone to the coffee shop and ordered an overpriced tea. 

Whatever bizarre machine Kyle and Kirsten had been testing hadn’t really phased me much. Eventually they would give up on it and it would end up in some forgotten corner of Cam’s office, covered in Christmas lights and empty boxes of seasonal Little Debbie’s snack cakes. 

  That’s why it caught me by surprise to suddenly get sucked into the fictional cyberpunk world of Stealing Life.

  Not as surprising as when I hit the cold, wet asphalt of the street with more than a few bounces. (Yes, I had indulged in some of those snack cakes too. Shhhh) 

 It wasn’t until I looked up when I realized why the swirl of neon lights, instead of something more fantasy-related (as one would expect when dealing with a Kyle Robert Shultz shenanigan) 

   “I had to be working on a Cyberpunk. Didn’t I?” I sighed, as I looked up at holographic koi fish drifting overhead in lazy circles. 

   Near future Yokohama wasn’t exactly a safe place to be. But I took comfort in the fact that I was too old for the very worst of possibilities, and the only objects I carried at the time was a worn wrist brace (yes, I’m old) and a bottle of ibuprofen stuffed in my pocket. Hopefully with the lid still on. 

   “Very funny, guys. You can get me out now.” 

This was not my idea of immersive story telling. 

   No doubt they had broken the thing, and I was stuck here for a while. It would take a minute to accept my fate. Already I was counting the minutes I could be using toward something productive, like writing… or watching pointless YouTube videos and doom scrolling. 

   I had just lowered my chin into my hand to prepare for a long wait, when I saw a familiar form against the neon lights. 

  Familiar as in… I made it. A girl in a black jacket with a bushy tailed cat trailing behind her. 

  “Ameonna!” I called, before I could entirely think through my tactics. 

Now, I am not normally so interested in talking to people. In fact, I’m one of those people who hide from their friends if they see them in the grocery store because I didn’t plan and set aside the emotional energy for “peopleing”. 

   Ameonna is, however, my character. So I guess I just didn’t think through the fact that I was alerting an experienced mercenary to my presence in her novel. Or what she would do once she realized it was a novel. 

   “It’s fine, I’ll just delete this section later.” I told myself. 

   “Who are you, and how do you know who I am?”

   I forgot Ameonna wasn’t just a mercenary, she was also a bit paranoid (for good reason) and very protective. Which put me in an awkward position when her black cat curled around my legs and started purring. 

   Ameonna narrowed her eyes at me. “More importantly, how do you know my cat?” 

   “Oh, well. You see, Jack and I met at… the groomers. I’m a groomer.” 

Shoot, Ameonna was part of me, she wouldn’t take her cat to a groomer. Of course, I couldn’t have taken my cat to a groomer if I wanted to. She doesn’t seem to be able to grow her hair back. 

   “I think you need to give me some answers, and give them to me fast.” Ameonna’s hand was moving toward her knife.
Why, oh why did I have to make my characters all so violent? 

   “Okay. I ummmm…” Think. Think. Think. “Magic.” 

    No, I reminded myself. I write Science Fiction. 

   The knife was coming out. 

    “I mean. I’m from the future.” Now the knife is all the way out and I’m backing up fast, trying not to trip over Spring-Heeled Jack. 

    “Have you been watching us? What do you know? Who do you work for?” 

    “No! I ummm… I’m a nanny.”

    “From the future.” 

   “Well, technically from the past. But that’s… complicated.” 

  Ameonna advanced toward me. “Time’s up!” 

  Unfortunately, Jack had just climbed up my back like a leopard up a tree, leaving me hopping around and waving my arms. Not exactly the best position to be in if you want to look non-threatening. Or, well, sane. 

   Even more unfortunately, there was now a knife coming right at my face. 

    “Wait, I can explai….ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

   The “ahhhhh” was me screaming, again. Partially because the neon light swirl had returned. Partially because, as I was yanked out of the fictional world and back into the real world, Jack had just reached my face and been ripped away with an angry yowl. 

    I landed in a pile of papers on the floor, with an impressive scratch on my cheek. 

  Cameron’s head popped up over an impressive machine which seemed (for as much as I could tell from the shape) to be pointed at me. 

   “Ha. I fixed it.” 

   No sooner had he said that when a black ball of fur leaped off my shoulders and streaked out of the room. 

   “Oh no, how did that happen!” Matt yelled, looking up from a lap-top connected to the machine. “I thought I had it perfectly calibrated.” 

    Kyle, who was leaning against the wall, nodded sagely, ignoring the disapproving look sent his way by Beth Dawson. 

   “You should know by now, Matt. Cats are immune to all scientific laws. Both physical and fictional.” He shrugged “Cats and white rabbits. Speaking of which, I seem to be late for a meeting in my office.” 

   And with that, Kyle started pushing the machine out of the room.