So Ken Schneyer posted his take on the “Lucky Seven” meme, which is as follows:
“Go to page 7 or 77 of your latest work. Read down to the seventh line and then post online the next seven lines or sentences. Then head off and tag seven more writers.”
I’m not gonna tag seven writers, because, well, I always hate tagging people. But I like this one, so I’m gonna play – and actually, the snippet is damn near perfect as an excerpt.
That’s where the jumper had infected him; he’d been looking aimlessly at the Chrysler building as though taking a picture of it might have healed him, and I’d gone inside to get us some coffee.
Once the Toxoplasma Decumba organism wormed its way into your bloodstream, it created cascades of subtle brain chemistry changes that made you obsessed with climbing — the higher you went, the better you felt. And when you leapt off, as your body smashed onto the pavement in the middle of a crowded lunch hour, you splattered everyone with your infected blood. To reproduce.
Not so good in small country towns. In rougher lands you’d find some infected way up in trees, leaping awkwardly as the postman walked by, breaking bones and tree limbs alike. They didn’t get close to infecting anyone, but the parasite had evolved to live in a very specific environment.
Cross-posted from Ferrett's Real Blog.