Marvellous Hairy - a novel in five fractals -

After they move Shute, Helena and Max have an ethical discussion about kidnapping, medical malpractice, and branding. The media conference is more like a circus, as the media isn’t exactly on its best behavior. And then Rob gets to watch while the Ghosts have their revenge. In the end, they all live, happily, and ever after. Though Nick still has something to say through his lovely Titania3000.

An excerpt from Dr. Tundra and Helena’s discussion of branding:

“Seriously. You like scotch, right? So say you buy a cer-tain brand and we know that there’s this other brand that is just as good, but less expensive. We can help you find that other brand,” Helena said

“Hmm. Single malt kind of defies the brand concept, I think,” Max replied.

“No, not at all. In fact, single malt is a great example of the power of the brand. We all know that Glenfiddich is a good scotch, but there are lots of other single malts that are better. But everyone knows Glenfiddich — even people who don’t like single malt scotch — because of the strength of its brand. It’s not just the actual product, it’s about the feelings you have for the product. And that’s because they were branding their scotch before people even knew what branding was.”

“So what is Gargantuan’s brand?”

“That’s the problem I have with Shute.”

“That’s your problem? Not the fact that he’s just messed with Nick’s DNA?” Max said. He looked at Shute contemptuously, and for a moment Helena thought he might kick the partially conscious man.

“Well, that too, but he’s not building the Gargantuan brand.”

“You’ve helped kidnap him because of branding?”

“Oh, no, I have other reasons too, but that is my corporate reason for doing so.”

An excerpt:

"As we were going over the notes again, a picture emerged of where Hippolyta was — not from good detective work, though the skeptics amongst you will say that’s what it was. I just saw it. I thought I could smell the Shade of Antonia’s perfume as an image of an old husk of an apartment building filled my mind.

I described it to everyone, almost like I was reading the description from a kidnapper’s guide book: “The Skanky Apartments, down in the un-gentrified part of the docklands are a perfect setting for any kind of shady endeavour, but if you plan to kidnap and freakishly dismember an heiress, you couldn’t ask for a nicer location. There’s no people around, there’s lots of ambiance, and the rooms are decorated in the original retro style. Just add fungus and decay and you have felonious magic!”

Everyone looked at me the way they did when the first saw Nick, post monkeyfication."

An excerpt from chapter one, as Rob tries to visit Helena, and is prevented by the security guard:

“That’s not a valid ID, sir,” he said. His voice had a little more of an edge to it now, as though he was saying to me, “I may be a security guard, but I’m not an idiot.” I didn’t think he was an idiot. Really. I would never assume that about someone just because of their job. “What is your business on the upper floors, sir.”

He kept saying “sir” like it was some kind of insult, I mean, I’m sure he was saying “sir” but the subtext was all different. Actually, what I heard was different. So while he said, “What is your business on the upper floors, sir,” what I heard was, “What is your business on the upper floors, you lying sack of shit.”

It kind of threw me.

An excerpt from his journal:

Friends are so lovely. You feel safer around them. I like their smells, even the disgusting ones. You know they’re safe, not like the strange smells outside. The scary smells of all those throngs of people walking and laughing and hurting one another in the world. So many of them. I am so itchy. My body seems to be covered in tiny dark hairs, darker than normal.

I need to work on the opus, but is gettttting ssso hard to type. It’ssss like IIIII can’tttt ccccontroll the pressssurreee with my fingerssssss.

Itch.

Scratch.

I could rrrrreally goooo forrrr a bananananananan smoo-oo-oothy —

An excerpt:

Meanwhile Max came out of his bedroom, dressed in some running shorts and a singlet. His green eyes looked scary, the pupils tiny despite the duskiness of the room. Nick calmed down again, and Max poured himself a scotch. He sat down, and immediately said, “Holy shit. Look at the fucking cactus!”

“What about the cactus?” I asked.

“I mean, look at it. How can you miss it?”

Nick sensed Max’s fascination, and he started staring at it too. It was like they weren’t there, and Ariadne and I started talking.

“Do they do this often?”

“Hardly ever. Nick especially. I have to say, I’m really surprised. Tundra is a freak. He probably does this more than he should, but I’m not usually with him when he does, so I couldn’t tell you how frequently.”

“It’s nice that you look out for your friends.”

“Ah, I’ll tease them mercilessly tomorrow. And for the foreseeable future.”

“Yeah, but you know.” She slid closer to me on the couch.