The Split Second Read Free Page B

when he noticed something else in the sky, just below and to the right of his Confidence. It didn’t look like clouds, though. It looked more like letters . . .
    “BD.”
    A new feeling surged through C-Note. He reached down onto his belt and pulled off a small black device known as a Blinker. It came with a host of functionalities, one of the best of which was real-time messaging to anyone in the crew. He toggled down the Duty Roster to Fixer #37 and began to type in a text, “Thx! I needed tht.”
    Harold Carmichael smiled and waited patiently for a response, which came only a few seconds later.
    “No sweat,” texted back the Fixer known as Becker Drane. “Catch u on the Flip Side.”
    1 . All Tools copyright © the Toolshed, the Institute for Fixing & Repair (IFR), The Seems, XVUIVVI. For more information, please see: “Appendix C: Tools of the Trade.”
    2 . The process by which Goods & Services produced in The Seems are converted by the Fabric of Reality into aspects of The World.



1
    The Golden Rule
    Becker Drane’s life was pretty much always this exciting.
    Not only did he have “the best job in The World,” but on the day he turned thirteen, Becker’s allowance doubled, his bedtime was pushed to “it’s up to you,” and his need to sneak into PG-13 movies was rendered obsolete. Best of all, he had finally hit a growth spurt, transforming him from a small kid with old-school corduroys and shaggy hair to a medium kid with old-school corduroys and shaggy hair. But although his newfound lank granted him an extra gear on the soccer field and an added measure of respect from the Melvin Sharps 3 of the world, it didn’t mean that all was well.
    The stresses of leading a double life had definitely begun to wear on him. Becker’s grades had continued to suffer— dropping precipitously close to a C-plus average—while the pressure of having to save The World every six weeks or so had caused him to drop a few pounds and have noticeable bags under his eyes. His parents and teachers constantly asked him if everything was okay and he knew the unspoken suspicion centered around a host of possible maladies, including but not limited to: the Internet, video-game addiction, male anorexia, and clinical depression.
    Much harder to deal with was the strong sense of disconnect that had slowly wormed its way into the Fixer’s life. When Chudnick and the Crozier boys wanted to trade MP3s or talk about girls, it was like he just couldn’t join in the fun. He tried to confide in his co-workers from The Seems, but even though they were cool and interesting, they were all much older than he. In fact, the only regular kid that Becker could be honest with was his brother, Benjamin. But even that was tainted, since the seven-year-old believed The Seems was just an intricate fantasy world that his brother had dreamed up.
    Sooner or later, Becker needed to find someone to talk to— and he knew who he wanted that someone to be.
    The Atrium, The Big Building, The Seems
    “Five minutes, mates!” A voice with a familiar Australian accent echoed over the loudspeaker. “Five minutes till we’re back!”
    Becker polished off his Dazzleberry muffin and admired the glass-enclosed atrium. This was the lightest and airiest part of the Big Building, used for conventions and cocktail parties, and it was filled with all sorts of custom-designed flora that the Department of Nature had been kind enough to donate. Intermission was almost over and Becker was preparing to head back for the Monthly Briefing when a voice whispered from behind the Zen rock garden.
    “Drane—over here!”
    Becker turned to see a scraggly janitor, casually mopping an already clean spot on the marble floor. He was wearing a Big Building jumpsuit with a Blue Collar around his neck— signifying that he was a master of the custodial arts—but anyone who knew would know that Brooks was in The Know. 4
    “I thought I said after the meeting,” Becker replied,