Ficlets

“We’ve lied to millions of people,” Biers said, elbow-deep in loops of purple guts.

“Billions, man,” said Kimberley. “Both planets.”

“And how many, what, trillions of dollars?” Biers stepped down on one arc of jagged ribs and pushed out on the other like he was breaking down a cardboard box. Sounded like bubble wrap going off. In the gristle, clinging to both halves of the rib cages, were dozens of angular diamonds, pink with sunlight and blood. A half-dozen alien eyes stared at him from the thing’s severed birdlike head.

“Why are we talking about this?” Kimberley scratched out diamonds with her rake.

“How many satellites can probably see us right now? It’s like one of those, you know — an open secret. Does anyone actually not know how these things are made anymore?”

Kimberly shook a few stuck diamonds out of her rake. “There’s knowing and there’s knowing, right? People want to want, not to know.”

Biers snorted. He meant, “True, that.”

“Probably shouldn’t be talking about this.” Kimberly pointed up.