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chanted, tassels wobbling.
    The man brandished a handful of grey straps, like watches without no faces. "For your wrists!" he declared, as if this explained everything.
    Abrocabe had little time for such obliqueness. "How long?" he said, unable to disguise his fervour. He gripped the fat man on his shoulder, staring hungrily into his eyes. "How long do we have?"
    The man smiled. "Not long now..." His voice was thick with devotion. "The Prophet spoke to us again this morning. He told us to be vigilant for the signs... He told us that all our doubts would be settled."
    "When?"
    "Soon. Time will die soon."
     
    WORDS FOR THE DEAD
    #2 Michael Donachie (AKA: "Micky the Trout")
     
    Problem is...
    Problem is, I'm not entirely surely what it is I've done.
    Look, I know what you're thinking. "Coward", right?
    Well, okay. Maybe you got a point. Maybe I should have stuck around, waited to talk to the guy, find out exactly what's bothering him. Maybe I could have talked him round. Explained things.
    Then again, maybe there are certain... scenarios for which the most reasonable course of action is the old get-thee-from-dodge. The scarperati. The cola en medio las piernas. The flight to freedom. The don't-look-back. The-
    Okay, okay. I'm running like sneck off a stick. You don't gotta rub it in.
    Whoa... Déjà vu.
    Thing is, there's only so much running you can do in a building where every storey is a big circle.
    Welcome to the Doghouse.
    I'm a Strontium Dog, sneckssakes. I'm not used to this "running away" malarkey.
    It's also worth mentioning that my memory's not so good, and a lot of these rooms I'm sprinting through look familiar, like maybe I ran through here five minutes ago. I know, I know, it's real funny. Micky the Trout, Three-Second-Memory-Micky, always forgetting where he is. Har-de-snecking-har.
    Well sneck that, okay? I'll have you know that certain species of migratory fish have a very advanced landmark recognition capability.
    Get a grip, Micky... Now is not the time to be considering the cognitive abilities of aquatic fauna. I hate that I'm about to die and still can't snecking think straight.
    Rationality went right out the window the second he called on the phone, that creepy voice of his, like cobwebs in my head, telling me to stay still and make peace with my maker, 'cos his shuttle just docked and he wanted to see me and, and, and...
    Uh...
    What was I saying?
    Hey - where the hell is this? Looks like the Doghouse, but... These aren't my quarters...
    And why the sneck am I running? I must look like a right pillock.
    Blip. Blip. Blip.
    My phone. Got it new from this place down on Algizarrr, top of the range, all the mod cons: texting, vidding, microwave, all that stuff.
    Blip. Blip. Blip.
    "Yo? Micky the Trout, here. SD agent."
    "Micky."
    "Uh... Who is this?"
    "You know."
    "M-mr St-"
    "Just got back. Docking now."
    "T-that's good news, Mr S-"
    "Not for you."
    "Not for-?"
    "Bone to pick."
    "Y-y-yeah?"
    "Yeah."
    "Oh..."
    "Stay still. Coming ta... find ya."
    "No problem."
    "Micky?"
    "Y-yes?"
    "Say a prayer."
    Click .
    I'm running before the line goes dead.
    Problem is...
    Problem is, I'm not entirely surely what it is I've done.
    Look, I know what you're thinking. "Coward", right?
    Well, okay. Maybe you got a point. Maybe I should have stuck around, waited to talk to the guy, find out exactly what's bothering him. Maybe I could have talked him round. Explained things.
    Then again, maybe there are certain... scenarios for which the most reasonable course of action is the old get-thee-from-dodge. The scarperati. The cola en medio las piernas. The flight to freedom. The don't-look-back. The-
    Okay, okay. I'm running like sneck off a stick. You don't gotta rub it in.
    Whoa... Déjà vu.
    Blam .

FIVE
     
    Four times.
    Four times the moron ran in a circle; through the observation deck, past the commissioner's offices, up round the apartment spaces and back down to the obs deck.
    He'd forgotten what he was doing at the same