Nearing the border, I glanced at my watch. Half past two. The border would be busy. The guards would be causing tremendous line-ups as they searched every vehicle. Just recently, an over-the-border operation had been caught and shut down by police. An organized crime group had been smuggling illegal magical substances across the border. Now security would be tighter than ever.

I hummed a song and looked down at my briefcase. That would certainly hold the line up.

When I finally reached the border patrol, a serious and intimidating face stooped down by my window. "Any magical substances aboard?" asked the guard.

I nodded.

The guard gave me an icy look. "And what might that be?" he asked.

"Puck," I said.

The guard's eyes narrowed. "Oh really," he said. "It'll need to be inspected before you can move an inch further."

I sighed. Yep, a good two hours were about to be wasted. But I knew the risk. Truly, I knew the risk all too well. If some of my Puck got into the wrong hands, there'd be chaos in the streets. The youth were always experimenting with magical substances, most of it being highly illegal. Thankfully, none of it could possibly be produced in the country, so the government only had to secure the borders, and their substance abuse problems would be gone. Of course, that meant wasting two hours in the here and now.

I moved the briefcase to my lap. Prepare for an over-reaction, I thought. I unclipped the sides and lifted the lid. The guard sucked in his breath at once, holding back a crying accusation; remember: innocent until proven guilty.

"That's a lot of Puck," he managed to say after a moment of swallowing. "I will most certainly need to check it over for any contamination. Also, I am going to need to weigh it and record it." The guard was rather shaken. But he gave a toothy grimace and said, "Of course, I will have to wait right here with you to make sure you don't do anything stupid." Then he lifted a radio to his mouth and said, "I need a report on a load of...Puck."

After the garbled reply came to an end, the guard put down the radio and gave me a stunning look. "What are you planning to do with all this Puck?" he asked.

"Use it," I said.

"All yourself?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Good, because you realize that selling or even giving away a single gram of that load will cost you at least ten years in jail."

I nodded. "I know that like the back of my hand. I work for the Trackers."

The guard raised an eyebrow. "I see," he drawled.

And then the back-up arrived and stood just as the guard had done with wide eyes and sucked in cheeks. After their shock wore away they gripped the briefcase like a bomb and walked gingerly away with it.

The guard supervised their departure and then leaned against the vehicle, giving the dusty grounds a glare. "So," the guard said after a moment of awkward silence, "You mean to have me believe that you're going to use all that Puck yourself?"

"Yes," I said.

"Is that possible?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"What's it all for?"

I didn't look at the man. He was asking for trouble. "I am conducting an experiment," I said.

"What, to find a counter spell substance?"

"Partly."

"Is that what you Trackers do?"

"Partly."

"What else do you do?"

"We track," I said.

This conversation was getting on my nerves. I looked at my watch. Damn. Only five minutes had passed so far. Plenty of hoops would have to be jumped through before I could get on with my life. Of course, there'd be a lot of talk and discussion about how high the hoops should be set and whether they should be lit on fire first. And, hold on, if they're to be set on fire, what should we use for lighter fluid? And, if he makes it through the hoop, but is partly singed...does that count? And the like...

I kept the air silent and tense for a whole minute before the radio decided to report back with nothing important. It basically said, Hi, we haven't actually started yet because we're still standing here gawking.

I tightened my lips together and stared at the rear view mirror. The line ups were gently moving around me as people's belongings were searched and scanned, their innocence distrusted, and their shifty eyes accused of crime. I sighed.

The guard was still leaning against my vehicle. He probably wished to be out there pestering people again. Waiting was not so fun.

"So," he said.

"No," I responded.

He blinked and turned his sunburned face in my direction. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"You were going to speak for no reason," I said. "Leave it be. Count the cars if you need something to pass the time. Recite your lines. You know, practice being useless."

His eyes were attempting to bore into my head, but it seemed he had forgotten to power his laser batteries before work today so absolutely nothing happened. I continued to gaze out of the front window with a bored expression.

The guard was silent. Then he talked into the radio with the most officious voice he could manage. "Status report," he demanded.

There was a moment's pause and then a reply. Well, we've only just begun, and it's going to be a while. There's a lot of Puck in this briefcase!

I pretended not to hear.

But then, unfortunately, the guard perked up and said, "Hey, while they're dealing with the records, I can check your identification."

"Oh glee," I said. "Knock yourself out." I handed him my id.

"And your license," he said.

"Which license? Vehicle, helicopter, doctor, Enclophadeliac..?"

He frowned. "You have an Enclophadeliac License?" he asked.

"Yes. Would it make you happy to look at it?" I asked.

"No, that one isn't necessary," he replied. "I need your license for the possession of Puck."

I handed him the licenses. He knocked himself out, checking them over and over, squinting at all the fine print, running them each twice through the scanners, tapping them against his ear...I quietly stared in the opposite direction until he was done.

"Happy?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied.

"I'm sure," I responded. "That probably made your day."

"You know, things would move faster if you weren't so rude," the guard offered.

"How so?"

"You wouldn't draw any unnecessary suspicion."

"Are you suspicious of my bedside manners or my load of Puck?" I asked.

"Both," he said.

"Right. Well don't concern yourself with my manners. I've had a rough week."

"Why?" he asked.

I sucked a breath through my teeth. "Did you not just hear what I said? Do not concern yourself."

"But I am the border control. I need to know your business."

"No, you do not."

"Are you denying information from me?" he demanded.

"Yes," I replied. "I haven't told you my favorite color yet."

"Tell me your business with all that Puck then."

"That would be confidential," I replied.

"Really? Under what authorization?"

I sighed. "I had really not wanted to use these documents, but since you're so picky..." I reached into the glove compartment and handed the guard two copies of a written and signed letter from the President.

He stared.

"Now let me restate: that just made your day. Didn't it?"

Again, the guard knocked himself out. And so I waited.

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“Re-charge batteries! Open fire!” huge turrets turned on the surface of the enemy capital ship.

excerpt from Defictory Episode 1: The Rise of Darkness   by wisemantonofski