I don’t much like writing multiple stories set in the same universe — making up the mcguffin is half the fun. But in the case of Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom, I’ve written one other story set in the Bitchun Society. The story’s called “Truncat,” and I wrote it for an anthology called BAKKAnthology, which is filled with fiction by writers who’ve worked at Toronto’s Bakka, one of the oldest science fiction bookstores in the world. The edition was limited to 400 copies, and it’s signed by all the contributors. There are only 30 copies left, and there will be no reprint of the anthology. If you want to lay hands on the only sequel to the novel that I’m ever likely to write, you can drop Bakka a line (email or 416.963.9993) and mail-order a copy.
First, Adrian got on the subway, opting to go deadhead for a faster load-time. He stepped into the sparkling cryochamber at the Downsview station, conjured a HUD against his field of vision, and granted permission to be frozen. The next thing he knew, he was thawing out on the Union station platform, pressed belly-to-butt with a couple thousand other commuters who’d opted for the same treatment. In India, where this kind of convenience-freezing was even more prevalent, Mohan had observed that the reason their generation was small for their age was that they spent so much of it in cold-sleep, conserving space in transit. Adrian might’ve been 18, but he figured that he’d spent at least one cumulative year frozen.
Adrian shuffled through the crowd and up the stairs to the steady-temp surface, peeling off the routing sticker that the cryo had stuck to his shoulder. His tummy was still rumbling, so he popped the sticker in his mouth and chewed until it had dissolved, savoring the steaky flavor and the burst of calories. The guy who’d figured out edible routing tags had Whuffie to spare: Adrian’s mom knew someone who knew someone who knew him, and she said that he had an entire subaquatic palace to rattle around in.
A clamor of swallowing noises filled his ears, as the crowd subvocalized, carrying on conversations with distant friends. Adrian basked in the warm, simulated sunlight emanating from the dome overhead. He was going outside of the dome in a matter of minutes, and he had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to be plenty cold soon enough. He patted his little rucksack and made sure he had his cowl with him.
