Lava

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arvis was out of sorts. The tour cruise wasn’t working out—at least not the way he had hoped, and now it had been diverted to this lost island with a dead volcano. There was a hurricane threatening, and all ships in the region had to seek convenient ports until the weather blew over, as it were.

There was nothing to do here that interested him, not even a house of ill repute. The island was small, dominated by the single cone of the volcano, whose idea of activity was a faint wisp of steam. Great show! He stood at the lookout facing it, and his mind drifted.

What do you want?

It seemed to be a voice in his head, maybe the unused half of his brain.

“I’ll tell you what I want,” Jarvis said. “I want a pretty girlfriend. The women on this cruise are either older or already attached.”

What kind of girl?

Somehow, it did not seem odd to be talking with an unseen voice. It really seemed to be interested.

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