Page 188 of Nearly Roadkill
I’m only somewhat mollified and still so curious.
“But didn’t I out you, break your NDA? With this story?”
“No, that’s the beauty of it. I checked with my lawyer. Once it’s out in the open, there’s nothing to hide.”
“So Winc’s alive,” I finally manage to say, “and you’ve been in touch with both of them all this time.”
“Yep! As you’d expect, they’re cyber-activists, founding members of the Electronic Frontier Foundation, and both senior staff at Wikipedia. Winc has a job training large language models—she’s so good with that stuff. Scratch can’t stand the idea of AI. She spends her time tending goats.”
“Goats?” I stammer. “Scratch is a goatherd?? And they’re both ‘she’? Shut the front door!” It’s all too much. But before I can say another word, the doorbell goes ding-dong. I open the front door to find a tall, slender person with long red hair, boho chic, and a faded waterfall tattoo falling from one eye.
“W-W-Winc?” I manage to croak.
“Hi-eeeeee,” she says with a smile.
“Hey,” I reply weakly.
In my head, I’m saying Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. And what comes out is “I love you guys!!!!! I mean hello! I’m Drew. I’m Toobe’s kid, and I just found that out, and I wanted to tell your story, I wanted to do you justice, you have become my heroes, I…”
Winc gently raises her hand.
“You did a great job with our story.”
I gape at her.
Winc continues, “We’ve been reading it out loud to each other as each installment comes out. Thank you by the way,They/Themmagazine.”
“I have so many questions!”
“May I come in? I can’t come in ’til you invite me. Mwah-ha-ha!”
“But, but—is Scratch? Where? Are you still—”
“All in good time, m’dear,” says Winc. “Ooooh, I’ve always wanted to say that!”
I step back and do something like a bow, I think, and with a sweep of my arm, welcome her into my home. How corny! And there we are. Me, “Toobe,” and Winc.
And then it hits me. My chance to finally get some answers.
“Wait a minute! Wait a minute! You were shot, Winc! You were bleeding—a lot! How…?” My question trails off as Winc raises a well-manicured hand.
“Well, that’s a complex story, Drew,” she says, “I’ll wait to tell it until everyb… the right time,” she adds cryptically. “How about we get to know each other just a little bit first?”
At just that moment, the front door goes ding-dong.
“Saved by the bell!” Winc says brightly.
I open the door wide and there stands a short, solid blonde with the best short haircut I’ve seen in a long time.
“S-S-Scratch?” I stammer yet again.
“Come on in, babe!” Winc shouts from the sofa. They stand with their arms around each other, looking for all the world like a genderqueer Pennand Teller, except good-looking in a way that only queers can look no matter their age. They’re hot, and they’re in my living room. I’m stunned.
And then I smell it. I look around surreptitiously, wondering what’s died in or under the house. Or whether my dad hasn’t showered in a while. Winc notices.
“Ah, don’t mind her, she’s been tending her goats,” she says. “Judging by the smell, it was Carter today. They’re all named after Democrats.”
“Oh no, it’s fine!” I’m so embarrassed—I must have wrinkled my nose.
