There’s a numbness, and a ringing in his ears, and dust everywhere. Nothing hurts. His head feels clear.

He brushes the rubble off, hefts the girder off his leg, blows the smoke away, but it’s not till he counts the hairs on the legs of a fly on the roof across the street that he realizes something is different. He finds his glasses crushed by a steel door, and his ID (Arthur Wemple, Lab Assistant. Chad had changed it to “Wimple” with a Sharpie.)

Arthur feels great. He breathes deep and flexes. All he wants to do is break things.


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