I settled onto my sofa, pad hovering before me, Alfredo in hand. Shoveling cheesy noodles into my mouth, I flicked through my last two chapters of Discordant, getting back into the mind frame of writing my own history.

  I’d had to do a lot of scrolling in Discord chats to come up with ideas for the book, and sometimes I’d ad libbed part of it. But a surprising amount was transcribed straight from the feeds. I couldn’t help laughing about some of it, and it made me miss those days of innocent chatter in the app. Back before I’d known something sinister was going on.

  In character once more, I clacked away on my keyboard, rattling out several more chapters before my pad Bonged with an incoming message from Cora. I smiled and accepted her video.

  “Sam! Aghh!! I’m so glad to finally see you! Kiss! Kiss!”

  “Kisses and a ginormous hug, Cor. I missed you, even though I just saw you this morning.”

  “I know! Whenever I have to rehearse like this it feels like I live ten days in one. You made it home, I see. What’re you wearing, a sweatshirt?”

  Cora was in a navy tank top with her hair up in a ponytail.

  “You got it. Make sure to pack at least a sweater and some pants when you go to Colorado. It’s a bit warmer in Denver than it is here, but it’s nothing like what you’re used to.”

  “Weather. Is that what we’re talking about?”

  I laughed at her. “Actually, I have an enormous amount to tell you, Cora, and an invite. I know we agreed you were gonna come to Wyoming with me, but I have to renege on that because something major has come up.”

  Her face fell.

  “No, none of that. It’s that we’re going someplace else. Assuming you want to go with me?”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Her face brightened and her eyes sparkled, “Dish, girl.”

  So I told her the whole story. Every detail about Sibsil Creed, the Known Cosmos Earth Press, and the mystery of Ryst Nova. Then Bitsy Joon’s invite to visit Andromeda Galaxy and the isolationist sphere called Shurwinn.

  To say she was bowled over would be selling it short.

  “Samantha Mooneyhan! We’ve been apart half a day, and you’ve already gotten a book contract, blown open some 100-year-old mystery, and got us invited to leave the galaxy? Holy fuck, woman!!! What’re you even doing to me?”

  “Not everything I’d like, that’s for sure.”

  “Oh, now we’re talking. You didn’t show me the rest of what you’re wearing.”

  “I was hoping you’d ask for just the rest of me; not my clothes.”

  She quirked an eyebrow, but I didn’t slip off my sweatshirt. “Considering the tech surveillance, I’m not sure I want to get naked or even talk too dirty over video.”

  “Is there such a thing as ‘too dirty?’”

  “Not when we’re involved.”

  “So how’s this gonna go? ‘Coz I’m not feelin’ like being celibate tonight.”

  I let my eyes roam from hers down her mouth, her neck, and as low as I could see.

  “I can undress you like this, Cor.”

  “Damn, this is hot. HEY! PERVERTS! If you’re listening; you FUCKING SUCK!!!! And not the good kind! No good sucks for you, you fucktards!!! May your limp dicks grow fur and fly away! May your titties freeze like spring rain. May your nads shrivel and die, leaving you progeny-less. GET THE PICTURE?!?!?”

  I was doubled over, sides splitting as gales of laughter howled out of my whole being. When she wanted to turn up the drama, Cora had it in spades!

  “So, Samantha, since we aren’t getting naked at the mo,’ what else is going on? With these tech creeps who ARE PERVERTS,” she yelled. “Are we any closer to catching them?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Doubtful, but I haven’t heard anything today. I’ve just been writing as fast as I can. Trying to finish Discordant, but I’m not even half-way through yet.”

  “You still writing funny chats and poo poems?”

  I sniggered. “Totally. Actually, I dipped into the #SpecialStreamsGeneral for a bit, and I saw someone requesting people write slayer songs for Christmas!”

  “Like, macabre holiday? A sort of Halloween- Hannukah mashup? Hah! I love it. You gonna give it a go?”

  “What? I’m already writing two books!”

  “Whiner—“

  “Plus, I don’t do murder. That’s not my style.”

  “Oh, you can slay me in bed anytime, Sam. I’ll be your sled, so deck me in red.”

  “Oh my god! Cora! That’s so awesome!” I laughed.

  “So you gonna write it or what, Sam?” she taunted.

  “You know what? I think I will,” I agreed.

  And boy did that lead to fun.