At first there was a story that started — “‘Worms got most of ’em,” the man said. The thief dropped the apple and tried to run.” It was going to be a story about the moon and clones. Moonpunk! But … that story turned out not to be a story about the moon and clones. That story turned out to be a story about a plague in
Narnia Wonderlandia. The story about the moon and clones starts like this: “Five minutes after the convention goers sat down to a lunch of wilted salads and engmeat a wave of panic swept through the grand hall; somebody was killing Einsteins.” Moon noir!
Maybe I can write it before it changes its mind again.