We’re just about done here, then on to HR for your employee identification card. I just need to finish securing the device to your wrist. Please don’t attempt to remove it. The electronic lock can only be opened by a company representative upon termination.

No, not termination in the sense of dying. In the sense of termination of employment. Although it could be said, from the company’s perspective, that once you’re terminated you’re “dead” to us.

It was four in the morning and Douglas was sweating, the harsh Alaska sunlight blasting through the window of his efficiency cube.

“Hell!” Douglas said, the worst word he could say without risking a fine.

He sat up and fumbled for the air conditioner. His cube was such that he could reach almost everything, from door knob to toilet handle, while sitting in bed. Douglas turned all the dials on the AC unit and checked the plug seven times. He was about to kick it again when he saw that his alarm clock was blank.

“The power is out?” Douglas asked aloud. “Then why do I smell squid-waffles, huh?”

The officer tripped over Dali’s walking stick for the third time. “Do you really need that thing?”

“Do I need this walking stick? Perhaps. The visual is everything.”

The cloudless morning sky failed to lift Harold’s slumped shoulders as he walked along the shoreline. At thirty-five, he assumed he would be married, yet he hadn’t dated anyone in ten months. And none of the prior ones had spawned a second date. With the reach of the waves lapping at his feet, he counted the time since his relationship with Cynthia had disintegrated. He rechecked his math and muttered, “Eight years.” His face wilted; his unfocused gaze drifted to the sea.

I apologized for arriving almost on the dot of the scheduled arrival time. “People never arrive when they say they’re gonna,” Karen agreed ominously. “There’s another guest who’s supposed to be arriving tonight too. Let me show you around.” I followed Karen down the path shorn through the high grass. We passed the schoolhouse bell, a lone beacon hovering above us.

To our right, as soon as we entered the property was a tiny, gated area. Excuse me. The area that was enclosed by the gate was expansive. It was the gate that was tiny. The gate was six inches high. This six inch high fence ran around the perimeter of shorter, mown, bright green grass. Inside the enclosure were four guinea pigs. The fancy kind, with bangs.