Kerri A

Since The Day, airports were the only place Kerri used a wheelchair. She loved that sylphing gave her so much more muscle in relation to her mass, and usually just swung herself around by her arms.

She’d been shrunk by an uncaring fate, but it had freed her from what she used to call the Iron Albatross.

Going through the sylph security line at the airport, though, required sylphs to be completely nude for inspection. She wasn’t thrilled about dragging herself naked across the footprints of however many sylphs went through between cleanings.

So I picked up the government-provided wheelchair at the podium, cleaned it with a wet-wipe, dried it with my sleeve and placed her gently down.

She rolled on ahead, making sounds as if she was gunning her engine.

Jacksonville at least had two lines for male and female sylphs, and she was out of sight of giant travelers fairly quickly.

I hefted the carry-on bag and got into the human line.

As usual, they spent a ridiculous amount of time inspecting the sylph carrier, as if those things were designed to smuggle little people into airplanes.

And also as usual, having a ‘sylph accompanied’ stamp on my boarding pass brings me and my luggage double extra scrutiny, which boggles the mind. I mean, really, which is more likely if I was smuggling a sylph?

Would I hide her and NOT TELL ANYONE, or would I tell people about ONE sylph and try to hide the other one…?

Who is it in the TSA that thinks sylph owners think ‘I can hide her in a sylph carrier! They’ll never look in there! It’s the perfect plan! And putting a sylph in a completely different line will be the perfect distracter!’

Honestly, Kerri’s mentioned this several times in her strip. I’ve even asked a few agents in the lines. They just point to two things.

One is the big poster that starts with ‘Federal Law Requires…” and quite often the other is one of Kerri’s comic strips, cut out and taped up where the inspectors can laugh in agreement. Though agreeing doesn’t mean they don’t do their jobs.

But finally I was through, trying to juggle my shoes, belt, carry-on, laptop and carrier, and moving quickly to the end of the Sylph, Female line.

Kerri rolled to a stop at the end, sounding like screeching brakes. It startled a woman standing there waiting for her own sylph. I was used to it. Kerri has a very powerful imagination. Kinda useful for an artist.

She raised her hands to be lifted.

“Please put the vehicle in park, miss,” I said. She scowled but put the brakes on. When she reached up again, I asked for her license and registration.

“Pick me up and put me in the carrier, Nolan! I’m freezing!”

“You’re in Jacksonville, Florida,” I pointed out as I put my belt on and stepped into my shoes.

“In an air conditioned airport!” she protested

“I don’t seen any goose pimples.”

“You’ve needed glasses for four years!” she retorted. “You know it, I know it, pedestrians and bikers all through Portland know it!”

I opened the carrier and moved her inside. She swung from spot to spot by the hanging ropes tied to the ceiling at various points.

“They moved everything!”

I was putting my laptop in the slot. “Everything is nailed down.”

“Yeah, but they moved my nails!” I heard her slapping the floor. “This screw is number 23! It should be in the FRONT between 2 and 3!”

“Thus number 23,” I muttered. Then I started looking for our gate.

There were only a few people already waiting. Two people sat on either side of a sylph carrier. I sat across from them, putting the carrier down where she could see the other sylph.

“Nolan!” she cried. “Let me out! I want to go for a walk!”

I wear a bracelet made of paracord that unties into a rope ladder, with a basket hanging off the end. I dangled that in front of the carrier and she climbed in.

I looked across the aisle at the two other travelers. “So, who owns the sylph? My sylph loves to meet new-“

“Are you Kerri Soote?” the woman asked. She leaned over. “You ARE! We have ALL your books! Hey, Pet, Annie! Look who’s here.”



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Index

101. Electra A

103. Kerri B