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by Geoffrey Hart
Previously published as: Hart, G. 2020. Speaking with dragons. (A drabble tryptich.) Aether and Ichor, January 2020 issue.
“To reiterate: you want me to live inside one of your tiny brick boxes, breathing on a pot of water?”
“Strictly speaking, a boiler that drives what we call a ‘steam engine’ to provide an environmentally safe source of power for the mill. You spend most of your day sleeping anyway!”
“And what’s in it for me?”
“All the cattle you can eat. And,” the merchants’ representative whispered confidingly, “an occasional virgin.”
The dragon snorted sulphurous steam. Her eyes narrowed. “I have no taste for virgins.”
“That’s okay. We have sluts too.”
The next representative chose her words more carefully.
***
“So, thief, what use have you for such of my treasure as you could carry away?” The dragon bore no resemblance to Benedict Cumberbatch but had the same plummy British accent. How those massive jaws formed recognizable English words was a mystery, but... magical creatures…
“Mostly for buying things, I suppose. A better car, better clothing, a better class of girlfriend, bling...”
“In short: improved socio-sexual status.”
I took a deep breath. “One might as well ask what use you have for so much treasure. It’s not like you can spend it anywhere.”
She raised a ridged eyebrow. “Amazon delivers.”
***
The immigration officer looked up—and up again. She blinked and pinched herself; when she opened her eyes, the dragon was still there.
“Um. Can I help you, Sir or Madame?”
“Madame.” A scaly hand opened a fanny pack and produced a passport paper-clipped to a sheaf of paperwork.
The official scanned it efficiently. Nothing was out of order. She produced a stamp, applied it to a blank page, and returned the dragon’s papers. “I wish you a pleasant journey. But if you don’t mind a personal question: Why leave Earth?”
“Earth no longer needs me. But colonies need myths.”
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