THE ANTHROPOLOGIST

By Micah Campbell and Johnmichael Woodard

Join Liar Zar, the world's greatest anthropologist, in her home dimension as she assists humans who have been pulled through the fabric of time and space. From would-be revolutionaries to eldritch abominations, she's seen and hugged most. Armed with her trusty baseball bat or blaster pistol, she faces fear every day and offers it comforting words.

When one day the bridge across the divide is broken and leaves the humans in her world stranded with no way home, she finds that her place in the world is much smaller than she had previously believed. Together with friends and family, she finds herself thrust into an insidious plot that threatens the fragile peace of the world.

Thankfully she's not alone.

A tale of found family, misadventures, realized love, and daring adventures into the unknown.

Warning: a science fiction leaning toward the fantastic and the weird, as well as complicated math.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798886854893

Book preview

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THE ANTHROPOLOGIST

Written by Micah Campbell Illustrated by Johnmichael Woodard

ISBN 979-8-88685-488-6 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88685-489-3 (digital)

Copyright © 2022 by Micah Campbell

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

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Epilogue

About the Author

-1-

Monday on it goes

Voices from far and near cry

The night too shall end

No, bad girl, put it down, the good doctor ordered her latest appointment.

The grimly dressed jest stuck out her tongue impudently and shook her head.

Nein! she shouted back as she tightened her grip upon the object of Liar's ire to her white breast. Her blond-dyed mane stiffly refused to move beneath her black cap as she moved in slow circles while hanging upside down. It is mine.

Your parents sent you here for a reason, young missy, the angry doctor growled as she waved her curtain rod about in a vain attempt to dislodge the death grip her patient's tail had on her ceiling fan. You assaulted the capital with a bunch of college-aged skater punks, kidnapped a foreign representative, disrupted traffic, threatened the High Caravan, atop of a laundry list of laundry lists of other minor crimes. And that book is the root of the whole problem. Now let go before I turn my fan into overdrive.

The doctor's balancing appendage was sore just looking at this insufferable guest. Tails were not meant to work that way.

Nein, Dr. Zar, nein was the resolute response.

As impressive as your human linguistics are, you are not leaving my office with that book.

The impudent jest blew a raspberry at her. Libry Dehoby let me borrow zis book.

Eight months ago, Liar growled as she stuck her curtain rod into the jest's ribs, attempting to tickle her down. Alas, the terrible thing had a will of iron. For a college assignment on other worlds. It's so overdue you'd think it was Max's work ethic.

Both jests went very quiet as they stared at each other, the mint one turning very red.

Wow, the hanging jest said as she swiveled her head to keep staring at the doctor, that was just uncalled for.

While grateful the other jest had dropped the phony accent, Liar was at her wits' end. She tossed her curtain rod aside and stomped across the room to the switch near the door. Sure enough, there was an overdrive setting.

The record for hanging on is forty-seven seconds, she said as she dialed it up, to the terror of the other jest. I'll give you twelve.

With a high-pitched shriek, the white jest managed to exceed Liar's expectations by three whole seconds. She landed in a heap on the doctor's couch, head spinning and stomach churning dangerously. Nevertheless, she managed to hug the book firmly as ever. She watched groggily as the good doctor approached her and spoke in a low tone.

Young jest, hand over that book.

N-no…nein, she answered before throwing a cloven hoof over her mouth to halt her stomach's escape attempt.

Liar reached out with a hoof of her own and placed it upon the young jest's shoulder. Please, it's destroying you, Aryan. You're already in enough trouble.

Nvr, she managed to say around her hoof.

It was inevitable. She released the book and hopped with her other leg toward the doctor's blue rocket-ship wastebasket (the most popular style) to make a deposit.

Liar sighed as she gripped the book in her invisible force and held it up. Aryan, do you even know what this book is about?

Abrot augh gimble mauk was the poor jest's response. With a cough and a few deep breaths, she managed to speak legibly again. It's about a great man.

Liar shook the German-English Guide to Mein Kompf in the sick jest's face, groaning in agitation. Hitler was one of the worst humans in the history of their world.

N-nein, he made Germany strong.

While at the same time tried to destroy the rest of the world.

All they had to do was listen to him.

He was a murderous leftist psychopath, so…a typical socialist.

Propagandized assassination, Aryan snapped, trying to stand up in defense of the man.

However, nature, it seemed, had not finished its course. She promptly stuck her face back inside the wastebasket and heaved.

Did you even read the book? Liar demanded.

I…have…memorized it, Aryan proclaimed without lifting her face from the bin.

Liar paused a moment. Okay, that's actually pretty impressive…in a dark, horrible kind of way. Back to the point, how can you defend that monster?

He wasn't…oaugh…a monster, Aryan protested weakly. It's the people…who took his metaphors…hyoog…and arguments…arguments too…bleaugh…too literally who are the monsters.

Liar's mouth shut closed with a click. Metaphors? She stared in disbelief at the retching jest. You think it was full of metaphors?

Of course…hugh. No one…would literally do such things…hoo. You have to take it from a logical perspective.

Hitler was insane, you stupid dolly! Liar shouted as she non-too-gently whacked the jest upon the head with the large volume. He had necromancers and soothsayers in his cabinet and believed an ancient spearhead made him immortal. And FYI, he did things a million times worse than what you've read.

Aryan still didn't believe her. You have no right to blame everything on him.

Liar's eye twitched as she began to fume. He murdered millions upon millions of people in concentration camps for crying out loud, after starving them, while using them for slave labor.

Aryan seemed on the verge of cracking, her eyes wide and her pupils like tiny pinpricks. N-no…that can't be.

The doctor growled and slammed the book down on the ground, yanking the jest in her invisible grasp so that they were nose to nose. Listen, you little trilobite. You're a spoiled, pampered little doll who's used to getting her way. You are lucky no one got hurt in your little rebellion. The fact you're not in prison is due to Max's mercy. Now listen to me and listen well.

Aryan gulped as beads of sweat slid down her face. You…don't…know…everything!

Liar shrieked in her face, her volume rising with each word, not caring who outside the room heard. She took a couple of deep breaths, seething.

With a long sigh, she pulled the terrified jest into a comforting hug. I'm trying to help you, Aryan. Believe me. This is a dark path you're on. It never ends well. You need to understand that. She broke the hug and snatched up a piece of paper. Now to help you understand, I'm suggesting these sources. Her pen moved swiftly over the parchment. "The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, Auschwitz, The Diary of Anne Frank, and The Shershev Compendium. Libry should have these in his library. You might be able to read a couple before you're shipped off to boot camp. And be sure to have them returned this time."

She gave it to Aryan, who took it and left the office. Later, that same week, Aryan would board a train to fill out her court-ordered duty, along with the rest of her rebel friends, involving ten years' military service to the Medley. Her parents, with her instruction, burned all her Nazi memorabilia (the irony) and promptly canceled her college scholarship. While their hearts were heavy, they contented themselves that things had not gone as badly as they could have.

It would be all right for the young jest, however. After a lot of growing up packed into several weeks of training, she would be involved in the investigation of a mass kidnapping, step on the surface of a distant world, and witness the appearance of a new moon appearing in the sky, among other adventures.

But that was for the future. For now, the anthropologist had used her human expertise to help her understand human ideologies that belong only on paper. Liar herself groaned in annoyance once the door was closed.

She hated politics.

*****

Mondays are always the worst, Liar grumbled as she rubbed her nose with a cloven hoof.

Mondays were usually the time she met new or one-time-only patients who had minor human-related problems, or Mur-related problems stemming from human-related problems, and various mixes twixt. Either way, Mondays sucked. This one was no different.

Such was the life of an anthropologist.

Today's next problem was a young human male, approximately twenty-one years old, who had been slapped with a court order by Mayor Onswer after a major complaint was filed against him.

Ricky, this has to stop, Liar said flatly, looking at the cause of the complaint included in his folder. I mean, really, stop. Right now. Don't ever do this again.

It was just a joke, the young man stated with a pout.

The doctor scowled as she lifted one of the items, marked with a date so that she knew which was which. This one, the first one you made, could have been seen as a joke. But proceeding to make eighty-seven more is crossing the line like a roided-out illegal immigrant on crack.

Hey, that stupid portal yanked me here. I didn't have a choice, Ricky protested.

Liar groaned. Don't twist my metaphors on me, kid. I've already had a particularly difficult patient this morning. Don't make it worse.

Ricky looked at her desk. "Is that Mien Kompf?"

Don't touch that, Liar cried out, taking up her curtain rod and swinging it defensively. It's being returned…by…me…of course. Paying a late fee is a great way to start the week. She took the book in her invisible grip and stuffed it into her paniers, which hung by a hook near the door. Stupid Liar.

Okay. Ricky nodded slowly, beginning to stand up. So are we done now? I just stop doing it, and everything goes back to normal?

Liar forced him back down with her force. Nope. If that was all it took, we wouldn't be here now, would we?

Ricky muttered something under his breath and crossed his arms impatiently as he settled in.

Cremry Backshep happens to be a good friend of mine, Liar began as she splayed out the multitude of rather inappropriate drawing out on the small table between them. I am taking it upon myself to help resolve this issue between you two, starting with why you thought it would be ‘funny' to draw these.

The young man looked at the pictures and then cleared his throat nervously. Okay…so maybe I got a little carried away.

Liar's eyebrows tabled. There is nothing little about this. Speaking as a female, a jest, I can tell you that just looking at this image makes my lower back cry in pain.

She had to stifle a giggle that threatened to break her serious composure here. It kind of was funny, but she had to be professional.

For crying out loud, you're lucky she's concerned about you. This could easily have been used as evidence against you defaming her business had she decided to take this to court instead of me.

Ricky seemed taken aback. She's worried about me?

Incredibly Liar's eyes managed to table even further. Seriously? Was that all you got out of everything I just said? Ugh, yes, she is concerned about you. This is not normal or even acceptable behavior.

No one would have ever known if Lockr-71 hadn't stolen my binder and decided to play keep-away.

He's a prankster. He never would have dropped it on Cremry's head had you not thrown snowballs at him.

Well, Cremry wouldn't have opened the binder if Lockr hadn't decided to retaliate with a snowstorm.

And none of this would have happened if you hadn't decided to draw these in the first place. Liar huffed as she deposited the stack of papers into the man's lap. We're trying to keep this as quiet as possible, Ricky, for your own good. If she had decided to tell her husband, we'd be having a scavenger hunt just to take you to the hospital…most likely the morgue.

She's married? Ricky cried out in shock.

Liar twisted her face into an odd expression and nodded. Yes…

Since when?

Since about eight years ago, Liar spoke slowly in a careful manner.

I guess I haven't paid that much attention.

She's had three fawns, Liar nearly exclaimed, gesticulating with her tail. Surely you must have seen her playing with them at least once.

A light seemed to come on inside his head. Oh…so that's who they were. I just thought she was really friendly.

Resisting the urge to slap her own face, Liar picked up her clipboard and crossed out a small section with her pen. So you weren't stalking her?

Ricky almost jumped from his seat. What? Why would you think I was doing that?

Liar just turned her attention to the pictures that had fallen to the floor.

He turned sheepish and blushed. Okay, maybe I can see where you got the idea. He attempted to laugh, but it sounded like a strangled goat. No, I was doing no such thing. I found out she was a dairy jest, looked up what that was, and…well…

And that adolescent portion of your postteenage brain just kicked into high gear? Liar suggested.

Ricky cringed and nodded.

Okay, I'll tell Mrs. Bakshep that she doesn't need to carry that shotgun with her around Wit's End anymore. After I do that, you are going to give her a written apology, and a verbal apology, hand delivered.

Are you sure she'll even want to see me? Ricky asked worriedly.

Liar nodded. We were all at that point at one time or another, Ricky. We're all fallen creatures, and if we cannot forgive each other's shortcomings, then what good are we?

Ricky began to gather up the pictures. Liar helped him, sweeping them up in her invisible portions and thrusting them into his hands. He paused a moment and stared at her. She just stared back, waiting for what he would do. He dumped them into the wastebasket.

Liar beamed him a smile. I'm proud of you, Ricky. Despite the content, they were very well drawn. Wouldn't have blamed you too much had you chosen to keep a few.

Her smile widened when he just sat back down. With an unseen snap, the drawings became ashes.

To think it was only a year ago that, that portal spat out your frightened body and the citizens of Wit's End brought you to my office.

Ricky turned a little red in the cheeks and ran his fingers through his hair. So…are we done?

Liar looked at the clocked above her desk. We still got another forty-five minutes.

What'll we do in that time? Ricky asked.

The good doctor levitated her pen and a piece of paper over to him and cleared her throat. Help you write that apology letter of course.

The young man shrugged. Sure. How do I start?

Liar took up a matter-of-factly attitude and began. Dear Mrs. Backshep…

Ricky wrote as she spoke. Okay, standard opening, got it.

The jest continued, I'm sorry for comparing your udder to a giant jellyfish on a burger bender.

The pen snapped in half.

Ricky stared at the smirking female Mur. What?

Liar narrowed her eyes above a fiendish grin. You want out of this, right?

Ricky nodded.

Then you will write what I say.

A fresh pen quickly appeared in the young man's shaking hand.

It's for the best, Ricky. Trust me. She was about to begin another sentence when a thought crossed her mind. Hold on. No, don't write that. I'm just curious. You said you didn't know Bakshep had children, right?

Ricky nodded.

Then…how did you think she gave milk?

Sometimes humans were just weird. In addition, Liar would never again be able to look at a tuba the same way.

*****

Anthropology had its rewards as well. Alongside of being knowledgeable of an alien world of fantastic things and knowing the people inside and out, you have to meet them too. Some were objectively more welcome than others were.

There, there, dear, Liar said, giving the small human girl a kind hug while levitating a plate of Snickerdoodle Circuit's melt-in-your-mouth butter cookies and a glass of milk to the short table.

It was a nice little table, and she often found herself wishing she could have found the legs for it.

Tears alone aren't going to solve this problem. We're going to do our best to send you back home to your mommy and daddy as soon as possible.

The girl sniffed as Liar used a cotton handkerchief to dry her eyes and then had her blow her nose. It was good practice not to grow attached to handkerchiefs.

Better? she asked, tossing the cloth into the wastebasket.

The girl nodded. The good doctor sat down beside her, giving her a squeeze with her tail before gathering her clipboard. Like most children she had met, this sweet one hugged her tail like she would a dolly.

Okay, let's see. She scrutinized her notes. She should keep this short for a child's sake. You were found just outside of Skip's Stones, near the southern bayou, at around the thirty-first hour by the Knitter Sisters. At the time, you thought it was a dream and let them lead you to their home, where you received a hot bath and a warm meal. They even gave you a bed all to yourself.

Liar really wished they had gone to the authorities first. Oh well, what can you do?

Is that correct?

The little Black girl nodded as she slowly dipped one of the cookies in the milk while still holding her tail. The good doctor made no fuss, mature enough to know she could easily wipe away crumbs and droplets.

Upon waking up and finding yourself in a strange environment, you screamed for help. She gave the girl an understanding nod.

It was common for the younger ones to experience a brief period of terror the first few times they woke up in Mur.

The sisters heard your cries and rushed in to try and help you. You managed to hit Neele over the head with an encyclopedia. No, wait…a collection of encyclopedias?

Sorry, the girl managed to say around her mouthful of cookie.

Her face told a story of its rich innocence. She was already eating two more.

Don't worry about it, sweetie, Liar comforted her with a laugh. It says here, after she regained consciousness, she expressed her forgiveness and is still willing to house you for the time being. She put the clipboard down. You've had quite the morning, haven't you, Jessica?

The girl had a guilty look on her face as she nibbled yet another cookie. It appeared another trip to the bakery was in store that day.

Liar chuckled softly. What could she do?

Well, Jessica, it'll be about a week or so until the mages have dealt with all the other misplaced humans so that they can create a return portal for you, unless we can get some of them from the Dawn Again University.

You want me to leave? Jessica asked as though she were caught in the act of a crime.

The jest shook her head frantically. Oh no, no, no, no, no! It's not that we want you to leave. It's that you need to go back and be with your family. They must miss you something terrible, don't you think?

The girl nodded softly and sniffed. Yes, ma'am.

That's Dr. Ma'am to you, Liar said good-naturedly, which made the little girl laugh.

Aw, good times.

She grabbed a fresh piece of paper and a pen. Now, before I have you sent to Wit's End General with one of my assistants—that came out wrong—for a quick physical checkup, I would like to compile a list of things.

What kind of things?

Oh, you know, Liar said with an abstract motion. Like, what's your favorite food? What games do you like? Do you like bedtime stories? If so, what kind of stories? How many cookies can you take from the cookie jar before anyone notices? You know, the important stuff.

Jessica giggled. The doctor was good with kids of all kinds.

The questions went by quickly, and Liar let her out early so the little girl could finish up with the rest of the standard human proceedings and still enjoy a day in the snow with the other children of Wit's End. It also gave her some time alone before her next patient to wonder how a little girl of Jessica's age could possibly enjoy Lovecraft's eldritch horror.

That was rather metal.

*****

And so after I fought off the hellhound, I journeyed to the Tower of Deplorable Desolation and burnt it to the ground. The citizens of the land cheered my name, and their chieftain presented me with the Battleax of Righteous Indignation. However, the rulers of the nation were not so pleased that I had taken the glory without their namesake. Therefore, they sought to purge me from the world, turning me to stone until I awoke millennia later from that unjust prison. I fled into the wilderness to gather strength and show the world how cowardly and scheming the two rulers of the land truly are.

All within two hours, huh? Liar said as she finished writing down all the costumed teenager in front of her had said.

With an old aluminum baseball bat hovering readily beside her, she regarded her new patient.

He was lanky, had bad acne, was covered in dirt and mud, and wore a suit of foam armor that used to resemble some sort of fantasy space knight. The most striking feature, however, was the large bruise on the left side of his face.

Let's try and straighten this out. She sighed as she appeared to lick the tip of an unseen limb and turned the page over, a little unorthodox habit she had picked up. You were sold an item by a mysterious old man—

My Boot of Holy Earthquakes, he proclaimed proudly, gesturing to the intricately decorated metal shoe that was obviously never meant to be worn by anyone.

Where'd the other one go? Liar asked, using the tip of the bat the push the human back as he leaned forward to try to see her notes. Very rude, this one.

There was no other one.

So there's only one shoe? Liar asked, cocking her head in disbelief.

Indeed.

Why would you buy just one shoe? she asked, not wholly certain she wanted to know the answer.

The young man held out his arms. One had a giant claw, and the other was just a glove, which grasped a snow shovel. Because the servants of disorder and mayhem need not match.

That thing has to weigh fifty pounds, Liar spoke in a most exhausted fashion, an edge of disbelief in her voice. No wonder you tripped and fell. How you didn't break your leg is beyond me.

Ah, yes, he went on, the Merchant sought to test me, and I passed his challenge.

Liar held up an article of crushed foam that had once been an outlandish helmet. You're just lucky this thing had enough density that you didn't break your skull when you hit that rock.

The Merchant had the foresight and power to transform my childish creation into its true form, befitting one such as I. With this, I shall begin my crusade to vanquish evil from this world.

Liar tossed the piece of foam aside and sighed. You're also lucky it's just foam. You could have hurt Poorsprout when you threw it at her.

The Hellhound was just fortunate I let it live.

You chased her for about ten feet before that stupid shoe exhausted you.

Yes, he agreed with her. I have yet to truly master its mighty earthquake power. It drains my armor's energy cells something fierce.

Liar rolled her eyes and continued, The Dolly Scouts are rather upset with what you did to their tree house.

The treasures inside the horrid tower must have been vast, lamented the boy. But it was the only way I could free them from its horrid oppression.

They were just trying to calm you down after seeing you try to hurt the Spindlekep family pet.

The master of the tower had sent them to me rather than risk his own neck, hoping they would appease me as sacrifices. But I showed my great virtue and instead had them take me to his hiding place.

They thought you were just scared and were taking you to get some refreshments to calm you down.

It was indeed refreshing to hear the cries of joy.

They were crying all right, Liar hissed between her teeth.

Without warning, the child began to swing the shovel about with the skill of a drunk beaver. Liar instinctively held the bat up defensively.

They awarded me with—

With the snow shovel that Mabe just so happened to be using when she heard her sister and her friends crying. She was trying to dowse the flames with the snow until you decided it was yours.

I was a hero.

You were a pyromaniac jerk who wouldn't stop crying ‘Blood for the Blood God!' as you interfered with all efforts to save the playhouse.

But the rulers above them did not see me as such. They tried to bring me down with a great blizzard.

The local rangers saw the smoke and tried to help.

When that failed, they turned me to stone. I could not move.

They were unable to get you under control, so they dropped a tarp over you and tied the ends together so they could drag you into town to have your injuries looked at.

I then escaped and fled into the wilderness.

The tarp struck a sharp rock on the muddy road, ripped open, and you then proceeded to dive into old lady Dillan's rose bush.

There I began plans to—

Whap!

Liar struck him the chest with the bat. The foam took most of the impact; it was merely to get his attention.

Okay, I've heard this story enough times now, young man. We've been here for an hour, and you keep on repeating yourself over and over again. I'm sick of it. When it appeared he had no plans of speaking again, she lowered the bat and continued, "You're what we in the anthropological community call a displaced. A human, typically really young, like yourself, gets sucked into a portal while under an outlandish pretense gets so disoriented that they trip, usually over some overdone costume, and wind up getting a concussion that, combined with the sudden influx of foreign radiation on their person, makes them believe they're in some high-fantasy world.

The only known cure is to send you back over to your world, where said radiation doesn't exist and no longer plays with your brain. So until there is an opening in the list of people returning to earth, you're going to spend your remaining time here in the Medley at the local mental institute. This would have a greater impact to you if you were even aware of what was going on.

The two creatures stared at each other for the longest moment. Then the teenager bowed deeply before Liar.

Teach me your ways, oh great one. You have managed to strike me, and your wisdom is spoken at great length. Show me the way to defeat my enemies.

Liar sighed sadly, ears drooping in a melancholy fashion. Reaching out a gentle hoof, she gently stroked the top of his head. You're going to get help, kid. Don't worry. We won't let you leave before we're certain no lasting damage has been done.

The teenager stood back and smiled triumphantly. If ever I return home, this shall be a grand tale to tell.

Liar nodded as she moved to the door. All the others thought so as well.

Outside the room were several orderlies in white uniforms. Liar gave them a nod.

The teenager watched as the Mur filed into the room.

The good doctor walked up to him and gave him an uneasy smile. Okay, kid…

I have chosen the name Thrandor.

Liar forced her lips to smile even broader. Thrandor… That's a, um, a nice name. Yeah. Well, listen, Thrandor. These people are my, um, servants.

He gave a nod of understanding. He would be easy to handle so long as she kept playing along with his fantasies.

They are going to take you a place to study meditation in the ways of the, uh, the chi. Yeah, that's it, the chi and mana…stuff.

Like wizard monks. Awesome, he replied, his head injury being all the more obvious, striking a pose.

The other Mur laughed until Liar fixed them with a withering glare.

Yeah, just like that, Thrandor. Liar chuckled insincerely. But to train in the mana-chi, you cannot take any weapons.

Of course.

The snow shovel clattered onto the ground.

Shall I shed my armor too?

Liar shook her head. Why don't you wait until you're there? That way, it can be put into a nice, secure location for after your training.

He nodded and smiled. Very well then. Proceed, he said, gesturing for the Mur to lead the way.

Liar watched as they filed out, the uniformed Mur close in at his sides to keep him from wandering off. Then she noticed Mabe and the Dolly Scouts, along with members of the local ranger detachment, clinging to the walls as the teenager passed them by.

Gathering up the shovel, she left her office and presented it to the slightly singed Mabe, who still smelled like smoke. You can have this back now, Mabe.

The spotted lemon-and-white jest took it, grinning sheepishly. Ah, yeah, sorry about accidentally chasing him in here, Liar. He kept givin' us the slip.

Liar chuckled and rolled her eyes. Oh, don't worry about it. A little spice in the day is a good thing. I just hope that whoever was my next appointment isn't too put out by the rather abrupt delay.

I am a little put out.

Liar cringed and looked toward where the voice had come from. It was a russet jest in lavender apparel and an amber necklace.

Sorry, about that. Couldn't be helped.

The jest looked down at a trail of evenly spaced dents in the floor. So I see. I will still be getting my appointment, right?

Of course. Liar nodded. Then she added under her breath, I'll just skip lunch. She turned toward her office door. Just give me a couple of minutes to tidy things up a bit.

As you wish, the jest agreed, sitting down to read a magazine.

Inside the office, Liar just sat down in her chair, levitated the foam helmet in front of her face, and stared at it with a sad look in her eyes. Then she crushed it into a ball and dropped it in the wastebasket before calling her next appointment.

Sometimes humans made her sad.

*****

You're in love with a human? Liar asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

The red jest, one Turp Tie, nodded and blushed something fierce. Yes, that is correct. Is that wrong? Am I a horrible pervert?

Liar shook her head. No, it's just that…this really isn't my field of expertise. I'm the jest you call when you have a problem with a human.

But this is a problem, Turp piped up, tapping her two legs in a manner that made her look like a dog begging for table scraps. I can't keep him off my mind, and I have to know… How can I win him for myself?

Liar might have been more annoyed if this had been the first time something like this had come up. I suppose I could tell you some human relationship customs.

The jest's face lit up like a firework.

But first just a few questions, if I may.

Of course, of course.

Are you a xenophiliac? Liar asked in a serious tone. Upon seeing that the jest didn't understand, she sighed. Is your attraction to him purely hormonal and based in emotions? Did you just see him, a hairless monkey walking down the street, and suddenly felt the urge to pork or be porked by him?

The jest looked aghast. Ugh, certainly not. I'm not some shallow pubescent doll looking for relief.

Then what is the basis for your attraction?

The jest took on a faraway look in her eyes. He's kind, thoughtful, strong, and, above all, chivalrous. The kind of bard every doll dreams about.

Man. Human males are called men, or singularly man. Liar smiled and chuckled. Well, that's all well and good. But—

"I knew there was going to be a but in there somewhere."

You do know humans aren't immortal, right? A year for you would be nearly three for him. It would not be a long love story for you and hardly fair for either side.

The jest looked down between her hooves. Yes, I am aware of humanity's old-age thing. He's just so kind to me, and I cannot help my feelings for him, and… I like to think he's worth the pain.

Liar nodded as she thought up her next question carefully. I wouldn't doubt he is. We all want companionship in life. And we can hardly fault humans for their own curses. We Mur have plenty of our own.

He's been a member of Max's Medley for three years now already, the jest stated thoughtfully. He's very well adjusted to our world.

Age?

Midthirties.

Ethnicity?

He calls himself Italian, Turp Tie seemed rather proud of her ability to pronounce that word flawlessly.

Liar wiggled her eyebrows. Well then, it looks like you're hoping to snag yourself a real family man.

It was hard to believe how a red jest could turn even redder. R-really?

Liar nodded. Family is very, very important to Italians. The bigger, the better. Liar couldn't suppress the snickers that welled up as she saw the jest grow redder and redder by the second. You may be trying to bite off more than you can chew, girl.

Turp Tie shook her head to remove certain images and cleared her throat. W-well, I… I suppose. Then dare I ask…

Yes? Liar said, inclining her head.

Are Mur and humans, er—she rubbed the back of her head in embarrassment—compatible?

Liar's smile left, and she shook her head. Human genetics work quite different than ours. For one, they have DNA strands rather than RBK clusters. He would be unable to fertilize your eggs in the womb. Even if Mur have all the essential mammalian attributes, we are as different from their kind as an apple to a nuclear reactor.

So…you would suggest I not? the visitor inquired, seeming somewhat put out.

No, you're a big girl and can make big-girl decisions, the good doctor chided her. I'm simply making it easier to understand humans better. We're both sapient species, and he's male. You're female. Healthy things tend to work that way. Just be sure of your judgement. We ladies can get carried away by the kindness of men, either falling head over heels…or abusing it like witches. She gave her guest a sideways glance. I happen to have my own kind of fondness for them, as you can tell. So I would absolutely warn against the later of the two. Understood?

Turp nodded readily. Very much so. Then there's no problem, is there?

Liar nodded with a small smile, satisfied. Now our time is pretty much up. Took you a while to spit out what you were really here for in the beginning, Miss Turpentine.

Uh, it's Turp Tie, the jest pointed out, blushing again. It's just a very personal subject to me.

Oh, Liar said, looking aside, I guess I misheard.

Oh, I get that a lot, she dismissed casually.

I bet, Liar said under her breath. So anything else you would like to know? We've still got some time.

Any advice if I do pursue him, Doctor? Turp said, thinking back. What sort of things do humans like their females to do, behave…or wear. Humans tend to wear clothes all the time.

Using her immense knowledge of humans, Liar would school her of several human cultures and courtship theories, at least what she could fill in what remained of an hour session. Turp Tie probably left with more questions than answers, but at least she was gone.

Love advice was not her job.

Liar sometimes felt like the old man on the mountaintop everyone thought knew everything.

Oh well, give out enough cryptic advice off the top of your head, and everyone will think your wise.

She stifled her laughter just in time for the next appointment to come in.

*****

Now, sir, I understand this is quite the shocker, Liar said, trying to calm her next patient down.

A shocker? he demanded. I've just fallen into magic la-la land and was chased by a shovel-headed monster. A bunch of winged robots rescued me from man-eating rocks, and I can taste the floor through my feet.

Sometimes there are complications when people fall through the tears, Liar explained hurriedly as she attempted to gather up the multitude of falling flower petals in her unapparent parts and burn them with immense invisible friction. Sometimes humans are so incompatible with the foreign radiation that it alters their bodies in deliberate and extreme ways, tending to copy the most unaffected indigenous specimens in the immediate vicinity.

I can taste sunlight for crying out loud.

That what's called photosynthesis, Liar informed him. It's very…natural?

Is that all you've got to say? Aren't you going to fix this problem?

We can't really cure the condition, sir, Liar explained, jumping back as a set of black tentacles involuntarily lashed out at her. B-but we can try and reverse some of the more extreme points of the transformation.

Like the gills?

Liar nodded as she cringed in the corner, shielding herself with her baseball bat and clipboard. Along with the carapace and the antennae, sir.

What about these stupid flowers?

The poison indigo will be the first thing removed, sir, Liar cried out.

My name is Phillip.

I'll be sure they give you your mouth back too, Phillip.

What?

Oh, dear.

I don't have a mouth?

Er, no, Phillip. Ah! Liar suddenly found herself hoisted into the air by one of her only two limbs grasped in one of the man's tentacles. She shrieked in terror as it swung her through the air like a rag doll.

Where's a mirror? I want a mirror.

Put me down, and I'll find you one, Liar pleaded earnestly.

Upon finding herself in solid ground again, Liar rushed to the nearest bathroom and yanked the mirror off the wall, ignoring the cries of protest from the occupant.

Sorry, sir, I need this.

Could you at least close the door? Miss? Hello?

Liar practically flew back into her office with the mirror and held it to what she hoped was his face. The roar of horror and disgust was deafening.

Oh, hell no. What are those things?

Those are swamp amoebas. They like living in rotten vegetation.

What about these? Please tell me that they're not…

I'm sorry, sir—er, ah, Phillip.

And these?

I shudder to speculate what you picked up from the depths of our fair swamp.

After that final appointment of the day, Liar rushed to the spa and took a curative bubble bath for possible toxic indigo exposure, along with half the people from the clinic, a wise and brilliant business move on May of Underwind's part.

Liar found she could at least take comfort in the fact that Phillip was nowhere near the scariest patient she had ever had to deal with in her career.

-2-

Tuesday starts anew

A child worries a long time

Despair at the end

After the vigorous warm-up that had been Monday, a more alert and ready Liar set her lunch box under the small table in her office and began checking her notes before proceeding to call her first appointment of the day.

So, Mark, she began, smiling at the older gentleman with the most epic white beard, I see your application for citizenship has been approved. Congratulations. I suppose this means you'll be heading off to the Western Isles, right?

He nodded his graying head. Yes, it was very generous of you to put in those good words for me, Ms. Zar.

Liar giggled and rolled her eyes good-naturedly. Think nothing of it, sir. You're a good man with a good reputation, hardworking, and all-around swell company. It's just a little sad that this'll be our last session. And with you going away now…

Mark chuckled loudly, his round belly jiggling comically. Oh, come now, Ms. Zar. It's not like I'm going to be gone forever. I just want to do some adventuring into the unknown, if you know what I mean.

Liar nodded. I once considered adventuring. Then I read Daress Daress's Guide to the Most Terrifying Things in Existence… The rest is history.

Oh yes, Mark said, reaching into a rucksack that Liar never saw him without and removing a thick book.

Its cover was as black as coal with an ivory picture of a mauled monster's skull in the center, just below the blood-red title—Daress Daress's Guide to the Most Terrifying Things in Existence 127: The Unfinished Western Isles Compendium.

I have been reading up on his work quite a bit as of late.

Liar shivered as she looked at the cover. I bet.

He continued, Mr. Hrewd agreed to finance the voyage after I described some of my successful jobs in South Africa…and after I presented him with a list of artillery manufacturers compiled by my dear friend Osk.

I've been meaning to ask him where he bought that macro blaster thing, Liar said to herself.

Oh, that would be the Comet Bombardment Corporation, he informed her. Mr. Hrewd turned down the idea of weaponized entertainment. Thankfully Max and his caravan, our other financers, managed to persuade him into constructing an arcade on each of the airships to keep up the crew's moral.

Wow, Liar whistled in astonishment. Even with the High Caravan backing you, that must have cost a quite a few cubes.

Actually it was fairly under budget, Mark mused thoughtfully.

What? Liar asked, not quite sure how that worked.

We had the aid of business-savvy Master Lemstad help us with our finances, he said, chuckling at her silly expression. We managed to utilize a lot more space with various dimensional expansion matrixes, cutting down the necessary airships to three, also allowing us to bring aboard paying passengers, including several of our others sponsors.

Wait a minute? Liar interjected. Passengers? Don't they know where you're going?

He gave her a dubious look. Liar, when a bunch of super-wealthy egomaniacs and overprivileged brats hear about a place of untold riches, they will put sanity aside for a chance at first dibs. Besides, if a few of them don't make it back, no great loss.

Liar wrinkled her nose as if she had just bit something foul. Mr. Smith, that was just awful.

That's what I told Max, he said with a casual shrug.

Well, as true as it is, you're both awful, Liar stated with a sigh. Just don't tell him I said that.

I doubt he would be upset. He'd most likely just make up a few more quips.

That's why you won't tell him, Liar pointed out with an indignant humph. So any plans before you leave?

Ah, yes, Mark nodded. "Osk is going to throw me a bon voyage party Wednesday night. Then I shall leave for Dawn Again Thursday afternoon. Saturday I shall be taking off aboard the flagship, Riveting Excursion, to begin the first leg of the journey west."

I'll be there for the party, Liar said with sniff. She was going to miss him. And I'll do my best to see you off at the train station on Thursday.

You and half the town, Mark said with rumbling laughter.

The price of popularity, what can you do? Liar asked with a shrug.

Oh, did I tell you that Forwd Daress is going with us as well?

Really?

So apparently the famous adventurer Daress Daress was Forwd Daress's grandfather. Upon hearing about the expedition, she had practically begged the High Caravan to let her join the voyage. It was unnecessary, considering they were trying to contract her help anyway. However, with her assistance came the added cost of her standard archeological equipment, in bulk—one thousand sledgehammers, six tons of plastic explosives, five hundred crowbars, and twenty extra pith hats.

When asked why she hadn't attempted to go to the Western Isles beforehand in search of the cause for her grandfather's disappearance, she replied, Because I am nowhere stupid enough to go in without an army backing me up.

Fans of her published archaeological journals eagerly await her next book.

*****

And how's my favorite little carnivore today? Liar cheerily chuckled as she tossed a special treat to her next appointment.

The little creature giggled as she leapt into the air and snatched the shortbread cube out of the air. Like Philip from the previous day, though not at all terrifying, this little human had been incompatible with Mur's natural background radiation and so had been transformed into a unique hybrid between a Samur and a woolly tangletooth (similar to a wolverine, only much meaner).

That part had intrigued the local rangers as tangleteeth were supposed to be indigenous to the southern regions. Also it caused some hysteria from overprotective parents. The rangers rightly assured the town that the beasts were safe so long as they were left alone.

Smiling, Liar lay down and used her invisible limbs to set the girl between her legs. This patient loved to cuddle.

So, Sarah, she asked as the child snuggled in close, what would you like to talk about today? Want to play with toys while we do that?

Without waiting for an answer, as if she really needed one, Liar levitated a small toy chest out from a corner and turned it upside down. Now Liar was a bright jest; and her insight into various cultures, ages, and genres made her quite knowledgeable into what people liked, which was why she had thrown all the cheap, unimaginative, and break-as-soon-as-they-come-out-of-the-box toys that her benefactors had donated into the garbage and used her own money to purchase real toys.

Some of her least favorite memories were those trips to the hospital with one or both of her parents and having to sit down in the little kids' area to play with those toys grown-ups thought kids liked. Weren't they kids once? Sometimes she wondered.

Anyway, she watched as Sarah's sparkling eyes looked upon the glorious treasures, same as every week she came in. These were no toy trains on twisted rails, or wooden blocks, or even those coloring books that were a mess of scribbles. No, these were quality items—plushies made of robust and durable fabrics, a metal train set, action figures made from reinforced silicone with chip-resistant paint, and self-erasing coloring books that could never be completed.

Sarah grabbed her favorite plushie, a little sa with an origami hat, and chose a coloring book at random. It was hard not to d'aw like an old grandma at a nursery when you saw the little girl nomming the plushie's ear with her sharp incisors and coloring in a picture of an evil insect queen screaming while a flyswatter descends upon her, quite difficult with one's hands being replaced with very undexterous paws.

Or I could just watch you being adorable the whole time. Liar chuckled, nuzzling the top of her head.

My brother says that we'll be leaving soon, the little girl piped up, not wanting it to be quiet.

Quiet was awful. It usually meant someone was watching you sneak treats. Noise was safe.

Well, Liar said, blowing a few strands of her mane that had fallen to her face, you might have left sooner if he hadn't tried setting Harst's vegetable fields on fire, then proceeded to yank up every fence post on her property. After which, he resisted arrest, assaulted a guard, and held Mayor Onswer hostage.

Yeah. Sarah sighed dramatically. Everyone was upset that day.

Liar shrugged. He was just being a big brother, Sarah. You and he arrived here, alone and…well…transformed in what must have been a rather shocking fashion, and he was scared to death for your safety. When you made the decision to sneak out of the hiding place in Skip's Stones and play with the Dolly Scouts, he thought you had been kidnapped by the native population.

I was going to come back, Sarah stated, sounding as though she had explained this numerous times. And I was going to bring home some candy that Wisp gave me.

As good as your intentions were, Liar started, grabbing a coloring book for herself and choosing a picture of her friend Osk—how did he wind up in there?—it still caused your brother to commit various crimes. Fortunately we of the Medley are an understanding lot and simply decided to have him repair everything he damaged. Though, I think refiling Mayor Onswer's filing cabinets is what took up the bulk of time.

No amount of sorries got him out of that one. Sarah giggled.

Sometimes I worry about your outlook on life, Liar dryly commented in passing.

She was a little busy giving Osk a ghastly sense of fashion. Quite close to the reality.

You shouldn't laugh at your brother's misfortune, she chided the child. He loves you very much, and he's paying the price for it.

Sarah's ears fell a little, but she remained silent, going back to chewing on the plushie's ear and coloring. Liar didn't pursue the subject anymore. It was just food for thought. Sarah wasn't a bad girl. She just didn't quite know when a certain response was inappropriate to a subject.

I'll need to come in Monday next week, Sarah, she said after waiting an appropriate amount of time, which coincidentally was the amount of time it had taken to give Osk a tacky cape and elevator high heels. It'll be our final session together before the mages synchronize a portal to take you both home.

Sarah stopped what she was doing and gave Liar a hug, which she eagerly returned. I'm gonna miss you, Ms. Zar.

Liar kissed the top of her head and chuckled. I'm gonna miss you too, Sarah. But think of your poor family. You've been gone for six whole months. Just imagine how excited your parents will be to see you, huh? Doesn't that sound wonderful?

Sarah nodded, sniffing as tears threatened to escape her eyes. Will I ever see you again?

I hope so, Liar replied reassuringly. Never give up hope, kid. Never.

*****

"Two drunks sat at a bar atop a skyscraper overlooking Lake Michigan when one of the drunks leaned over to the other and said, ‘Did you know that the winds coming off Lake Michigan are so strong that, if you were to jump over the railings, it would pick you back up and drop you right back up here?'

"The other drunk responded, ‘No. Couldn't be. That's just talk.'

"‘No, it's true,' responded the first drunk. ‘Watch. I shall prove it.'

"Before anyone could stop him, the first drunk walked over to the railing and leapt over. Sure enough, he fell a ways and then floated on back up and landed back on the roof. The other drunk was astounded.

"‘That was incredible,' he said, rubbing his eyes and looking over the first drunk in awe. ‘Let me try it.'

So the other drunk rushed to the railing in excitement and leapt off. They had to use a fire hose to clean him off the sidewalk below. So the first drunk sat back down at the bar and ordered another drink, to which the bartender commented, ‘You know, Mr. Kent, you're one mean drunk.'

Liar burst out laughing, going so far as to accidentally tip her chair backward and roll across the floor, practically squealing like a mouse on helium.

Oh-ho-ho-ho! Cameron, that's one of the most horribly awesome things I've heard today. And Mark Smith was in here earlier, so that's saying something.

The young man sitting across from her chuckled at her humored convulsions, all the while twirling a yo-yo about in small circles. I thought you would like it, Liar.

When the laughter had finally subsided to snickers and hiccups, the good anthropologist set her chair back upright, sat back down, and grabbed her clipboard. I am writing this one down.

I'm surprised you know who Mr. Kent is, Cameron commented dryly whilst performing a shoot the moon.

Liar put a hoof to her breast in mock offense. Le gasp, young man. I, Dr. Liar Zar, the most recognized anthropologist in the world, not know of superhero comics? For shame. She giggled and cleared her throat. More than just humans fall through those portals, kid. Heck, the Dawn Again Museum of Natural History has an entire wing that they're filling out quite nicely. You should go see it.

Might do that at some point, he replied with a shrug.

Why can't you act this way outside of my office? Liar implored him. You're fun to be around. Everyone would love to be your friend if you just gave them a chance.

Cameron looked away and performed a trick with his yo-yo, to which Liar sighed.

The mages will be ready to send you back home by next Friday, Cameron, she said with a shake of her head, although, I must point out, it's not too late to apply for citizenship. The Medley's not a bad place. Mur isn't too much unlike earth, but you could come to like it if you gave it a chance.

The man shook his head. "No. Earth is familiar.