The Sky was Full of Fish

But at that moment, I was through! Harold knew it, too. I wish I had been in a position to enjoy the look of shock and surprise on his face.

The contact with my right pinky finger was tenuous at best, but it was contact nonetheless. I frantically sifted for the item I needed as Harold redoubled his efforts to suffocate me.

My vision was going dim and flashbulbs were popping in my eyes. The last thing I remember before I blacked out was something smooth and flat sliding out of my right pinky finger and across the back of my tongue. Then there was nothing.

* * *

I woke up.

This, in and of itself, was significant. It meant that either my desperate plan had worked, or some other miracle had occurred to save me.

Of further significance was the fact that I didn't seem to be in pain. This was a matter of no small relief. Neither my stomach, nor my privates, nor my wrist or jaw seemed to be in trouble. I didn't move for a while, just to savor the sensation of not hurting. Eventually the novelty of this wore off, and I decided it was time for further investigation. I opened my eyes.

It was dark, but I could tell I was in some sort of bed. I wanted my mysterious glowing orb, and I tentatively felt for it. To my relief, my connection with my right pinky finger was at full strength. I called forth the orb, and it floated aloft with a soft glow. This was quite in contrast with how I had last seen it, and I was further relieved.

Moments after the mysterious glowing orb emerged, the room's own lighting came up. I blinked in the brightness. I was lying in a bed in the Complex infirmary, a long, peach-colored room with two rows of beds going down the opposite walls. At either end of the room there were doorways, and the doorway I was closer to had a green light over it that started to flash as I sat up.

Two seconds later, the door burst open and the beloved quartet came barreling through with Heather in the lead. She pounced on me and gave me a big kiss. Pulling back, she beamed at me. "Hi honey," she said.

"Hi," I said. Then I said, "What happened?"

Matilda shouldered Heather aside and placed her hands on me. She concentrated for a few seconds, then said, "He's healed completely. Thank god."

"The League medics know their business," said Carver. I turned to see him approaching the bed. He held out his hand and I shook it. "Good to see you in one piece," he said.

"Yeah," I said. "What happened?"

Just then, I noticed a man standing behind Carver. He looked different without his wimple, but I had no trouble recognizing him.

"Roger Binks," I said, smiling. "Nice to see you. So I take it my plan worked?"

Roger smiled back. "If your plan was to lick my card so that I could gate in and save the day, then yes, it did."

"I knew I licked something, but I couldn't be certain it was your business card before I blacked out. Glad you could make it." We shook hands.

"I also am glad," said Barbara. We all turned to the neighboring bed to see her sitting there sedately.

"You're alive," said Heather happily.

"Evidently," Barbara replied.

"This a pet of yours?" Carver asked me.

As one, the beloved quartet rolled their eyes at Carver. "Barbara isn't a pet," snapped Gertrude.

"She's an enlightened child of the universe," said Sara.

"Quite so," said Barbara. Then she turned to face me directly. "Andrew," she began, "do you remember when I told you that I would not always be so cryptic?"

"No," I said.

Barbara blinked. "Oh." Shrugging, she continued. "Well, a lot has happened since then. In any case, I did make that promise and the time has come. I am going to tell you the truth, and I am not going to leave anything out. It's the least you deserve."

Barbara continued speaking before anyone could say anything. "I am the official emissary of the God of Toast," she said. "In point of fact, I am his daughter." At this, there were murmurs of surprise and awe. "The fish in the sky, as I'm sure you're aware, are anathema to the God of Toast," Barbara went on. "His power began to dwindle the moment they appeared. The fish were brought about by your coworker Harold, whom we now know to be the Anti-Toast."

"Used to be," said Binks with a grim smile.

Barbara nodded an acknowledgement. "As you say. In any case, when the Anti-Toast made his move, you, Andrew, were chosen to be the Champion of Toast. You were summoned to the One True Toaster Factory and tested. You did well, but our efforts were thwarted by the power of the Anti-Toast. I was therefore dispatched to guide you on the path that was chosen for you.

"I like to think I was of some assistance, but as the situation with the God of Toast grew more dire, I became careless. Through unscrupulous means, I had learned the secret identity of the Anti-Toast. I tried to reveal this information to you, but was taken out of play (and rightly so) by the Deity Governance Committee before I could deliver the message."

"So that's what happened when you popped out of existence back at the hotel," said Heather.

"Yes," said Barbara. "I behaved imprudently, and was brought to task for it."

"But what's the Deity Governance Committee?" I asked.

"That is a topic for another time," said Barbara. "For the nonce, it is my duty to offer, on behalf of both myself and the God of Toast, our supreme thanks for the service you have done for us, Andrew Millik." She bowed to me.

"My pleasure," I said.

A glowing disk of light appeared beneath Barbara and lifted her from the bed. "Now, if you will excuse me, the fate of the God of Toast is again in the balance, and I am needed elsewhere."

"What? But isn't Harold dead?" asked Heather.

Barbara's disk rotated until she faced Heather. "My child," she said, "Harold was merely this plane's incarnation of the Anti-Toast. When one Anti-Toast fails, another always appears somewhere else. I must go. Farewell, Andrew Millik and companions. It was an honor to work with you." With that, Barbara shimmered and was gone.

There was a long silence as we pondered the implications of what Barbara had told us. The silence was broken by Gertrude. "Hey, who the hell are you?" she said.

The rest of us now noticed that an unassuming man in a brown suit and bowler hat had come among us by some means. He regarded Gertrude imperturbably.

"Easy, Gertrude," said Carver. "That's Telzock Dimsho." To me, he mouthed, "Tier 1."

So this was a member of the mythical League Management. He stepped forward and addressed me. "Andrew Millik," he said, "it is my pleasure to inform you that your professional relationship with the League of Heroes has ended. Your employment is terminated, effective immediately."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Carver said, "Sir, I protest this decision," and the beloved quartet all tried to talk at once, which resulted in Gail standing helpless with her mouth agape. Roger Binks, meanwhile, began edging his way to a safer distance from Telzock Dimsho, who took no notice of him. Dimsho's and my eyes were locked. A bureaucratically malevolent smile played at the corners of his mouth.

I held my hand up, and Carver and the others subsided. "Can I ask on what grounds I'm being fired?" I said.

Gertrude spoke up. "Yeah, and you'd better have a damn good--

"Gertrude," I said calmly. My tone stopped her short, and I gave her the direst cautioning glance I could muster, praying that it would work. It did; Gertrude fell silent.

Dimsho observed all this with contemptuous amusement; then, he answered. "I suppose you have a right to know. You're being terminated for flagrant disregard of Complex policies, including destruction of Complex walls and fixtures, entering restricted areas without a permit, and assisting in the infiltration of the Complex by outsiders, namely these," he said, gesturing at the beloved quartet and Roger Binks, who was now on the other side of the room. "In light of your years of service, your friends will not be forcibly ejected, but will be permitted to leave with you under the escort of Carver, here. Which will happen within the hour."

Carver spoke. "Sir, I--"

"Spare me," snapped Telzock Dimsho. "You're on thin ice, Carver. You might want to step lightly." At this, Carver fell silent, giving me an apologetic sidelong glance.

"Now," continued Dimsho, "if you'll excuse me, I'm a busy man." He turned on his heel and began walking towards the door.

A prickling pinpoint of fury began to form behind my forehead, and quickly spread. I had very nearly lost my life in service to the League, and suffered considerable agony. That they would play me as I had been played over the past few days was bad enough. That I was expected to take being fired lying down, without even being given a decent excuse, was utterly untenable. Telzock Dimsho had nearly reached the door when my temper snapped. "Why'd you do it, Dimsho?" I said quietly.

Something in the tone of my voice made Carver go white. The beloved quartet stared at me in alarm. Dimsho paused as if debating whether or not to ignore me. Then he slowly turned to face me. "How's that again?" he said with a cold malice that was breathtaking.

I was not cowed. I spoke calmly and concisely, matching him for coldness. My hands were shaking. "Management knew all along what was going on with the fish. Why'd you let Harold use the Complex? Why'd you assign me to deal with the fish? Why'd you play me against Mr. Bob? And why are you firing me for these petty, jerk-off infractions? After everything I've done for you, why would you fuck me over like this?"

Telzock regarded me for some moments, during which you could have heard a pin drop. Carver, Matilda, Heather, Sara, Gertrude, and Binks stared at the two of us with open mouths.

Finally, Dimsho replied. "Again in light of your service to the League, I will answer your questions. First, the League's position on toast is one of neutrality. Harold went through proper channels to establish his lab, and the League encourages extracurricular research projects and experiments. We were not particularly pleased about the fish, but we were not displeased enough to be bothered to deal with it ourselves. Therefore, we decided to send one of our consultants. We arranged for you to get the assignment, subsequently set you up to go against Mr. Bob, and are now firing you because we thought it would be fun."

"Fun?" I repeated incredulously. My anger began to dissolve, replaced by bemusement.

"We think you're a dick, Millik," Telzock replied.

"What?" I said, still incredulous.

"Good day," said Telzock, tipping his bowler hat and turning once more towards the door. "Out within the hour, Carver," he called over his shoulder as he left the room.

Carver regarded me, shaken. "You're crazy," he said. "He could have erased you, me, all of us from past and present as easy as putting on his stupid hat."

"I suppose so," I said, Lying back down in the hospital bed. I was feeling a little weak after my loss of control. "But it did feel good to get a straight answer out of Management for once."

"This is awful," said Matilda. "After all we've gone through, to be treated like this..."

"What are you going to do?" asked Carver.

"Do?" I said. "I expect I'll leave the Complex within the hour. But right at the moment, I'd love to get an account of what happened on floor 39 after I blacked out."

"There's really not much to tell," said Roger Binks, rejoining us from across the room. "My card was licked, and I gated in. I took a few seconds to assess the situation, and then I dispatched Harold with a dismantler drone. When he was dead, his powers were nullified. While the others were disengaging themselves from fish cubes, I flipped the switch to turn off the fish in the sky. It was round about then that security showed up, whisked you to the infirmary, and herded us into a waiting room, where we stayed until you woke up some hours later. Everything else, you've been awake for."

"And I assume the sky is indeed clear of fish?" I asked.

The others nodded.

"There's one thing that leaves me wondering," said Sara. Binks raised his eyebrows expectantly. "How were you able to use your powers in Harold's dark sanctum? The rest of us had our powers nullified."

Binks suddenly looked rather uncomfortable. "Well, I, uh..." he stammered.

"He'd been invited there before," I said. "Hadn't you, Binks?"

Binks sighed and nodded.

"What?" said Carver. "When?"

"It was Harold who hired me to kill Andrew," said Binks.

"And the final piece of the puzzle clicks into place," said Sara.

"How'd you figure it out?" Binks asked me.

"I didn't, really," I replied. "It was just another part of the gamble of using your card. I'm glad it paid off."

"Aren't we all," said Matilda.

I lay back on the bed and savored the sensation of possessing an unworried mind. The fish were gone, and all was well. All, that is, if you left aside the life-and-death struggle for the fate of toast currently unfolding in another dimension. But you can't spend your time worrying about things you can't affect, and so I didn't.

Carver pulled me out of my revery. "We should get going," he said. "I don't want to piss off Dimsho any more than he already is."

"You're right," I said, throwing back the blanket and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I looked down at the hospital gown I was wearing. "Has anyone seen my clothes?"

Carver waggled his fingers arcanely, there was a flash of electric blue, and I found myself fully dressed in my freshly laundered clothes.

"Thanks," I said. "I don't suppose you could pack up my desk, too?"

Carver pointed to the bed, and the large cardboard box that had appeared on it.

"Thanks again," I said, stuffing the box into my right pinky finger, followed by the mysterious glowing orb. "Well," I said, regarding the others, "I'm ready."

"I want to stop at floor 16," said Carver as the group of us walked to the door.

"Why? What's there?" I asked.

"Isolation booths," Carver replied.

When the two of us were safely in the booth, Carver took my hand and shook it warmly. "I wanted you to know that no matter what happens, you will always have allies in the League of Heroes. Aardvark mistletoe."

"Arctic pesto makes avuncular cookies," I said. "And thanks."

Some time later, I, the beloved quartet, and Roger Binks were sitting in the coffee shop near the Complex sipping lattes. It was early evening.

"So, what are you going to do now?" asked Binks.

"I'm not sure yet," I said, "but I suppose I'll have to go independent. Or I could work for Mr. Bob." We all had a chuckle at this.

"Well," said Binks, "you dropped this down on floor 39." He handed me his card. I raised an eyebrow. "It's been cleaned," Binks said with a smirk. I smiled and took the card. "Summon me if you have need, and I'll be happy to assist you in any way I can," said Binks. "And if you do decide to go independent, I could always use a partner." He got up, crumpling his coffee cup. "Think about it," he said with a wink.

"I will," I said. "Thanks."

Binks nodded. Then he was gone. We sat in silence for a while. Then Gertrude said, "Who winks at people? There's something off about that guy."

"Fortunately we don't need to worry about that right now," said Sara, not unkindly.

I turned to the beloved quartet and said, "What shall we do, my dears?"

"Let's go home," said Gail in one of her rare moments of unity.

We stepped out of the coffee shop under the lovely fish-free sky and made our way through the city to our small piece of habitat. As we turned the corner onto our street, our eyes were greeted by the sight of a lovely landscaped pond where our house should have been.

"Son of a bitch," said Gertrude.

"So, back to the hotel then?" said Matilda wryly.

"It's a lovely pond," I replied. "Might as well sit and enjoy it a bit before we go."

"I suppose," grumbled Gertrude.

We made our way down the sidewalk to the pond. When we had gotten closer, however, we saw that there was already someone sitting on the bench.

"Who's that?" whispered Heather.

I shrugged. As we drew nearer, we were able to make out that it was an older gentleman with tousled grey hair wearing a mint-green sweatsuit and dilapidated sneakers. He was lounging on the bench with his legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed, and he leaned his head back against his interlaced fingers. He had his eyes closed, but despite his leisurely posture, his face bore a look of intense concentration. I almost felt guilty disturbing him. I cleared my throat.

The man's eyes popped open, and he sat up straight, blinking around until his gaze settled on us. "Ah, you've arrived," he said. He jumped to his feet and approached us quickly. Somewhat alarmed, the beloved quartet and I tensed up a bit, but he only offered his hand to shake. Somewhat hesitantly, I took it.

"Just wanted the opportunity to meet you in person," the man said pleasantly. He turned to Matilda, Heather, Sara, and Gertrude, extending his hand. "And to meet all of you as well," he said. The beloved quartet, as bewildered as I, shook the man's hand with blank expressions.

The man stepped back away from us towards the sidewalk. "Well, unfortunately, I can't stay and visit," he said, "but it was nice meeting you. So long." With that, he turned and began jogging down the sidewalk, leaving us to stand and stare after him.

When he had passed out of sight, we turned to one another, looking for answers where there were none. Finally, Gertrude shrugged. "Must've just been some weirdo," she said. We turned back to the pond.

But the pond was gone, replaced by our house, looking as though it had never been missing. "Whoa," said Heather. Then the beloved quartet started up the walk to investigate. I hung back a moment, looking in the direction the man had disappeared. I was beginning to have an idea of just who the man might have been, and it gave me pleasure.

"Andrew," Matilda called from the porch, "there's something here for you."

I moved quickly down the walk and up the steps. Indeed, there was something there for me. It was a medium-sized box wrapped in colorful paper with ribbons and a bow. The beloved quartet stood around it, eyeing it apprehensively.

I picked up the present and tucked it under one arm. "Let's go in," I said, and we did. In the living room, I sat down on the couch and began tearing the paper away.

"Are you sure it's safe?" said Matilda.

"I'm sure," I replied. "Don't worry, I think I know what it is." I peeled away the wrapping to reveal an unlabeled corrugated cardboard box. I opened the box, and there it was: a gleaming stainless steel toaster, of a size and configuration that signified that it had come from the One True Toaster Factory.

"Classy," said Heather. I was certain she was only commenting on the appliance's smart appearance. Neither she nor any of the others knew the significance of the toaster or where it had come from.

"There's a card here," said Matilda, picking up a white square of cardboard from the floor. "It says, 'To Andrew Millik and family with love.' Signed by someone named Goldstan."

"Goldstan," I repeated thoughtfully.

"But what does it mean?" said Sara.

"What it means, my darlings," I replied, "is that we're having toast for dinner."

The End