(Iglesia is a serialized novel, published on Tuesdays and Saturdays at midnight ET, you can read all of the episodes by clicking on the tag.)
“How did you cheat?” Abe asked.
“Thusly,” Rogers replied
He reached into his inner jacket pocket and took out two pieces of paper. He handed one to each of them and told Abe to read it aloud. Fast, without stopping, no matter what happened. He told Iglesia that as soon as Abe stopped, she should do the same.
gleefully festooned the limpid girth
of the interwoven zeppelins
their beribboned visages
unforeseen by conventional telemeters
with the inglorious ornaments
in the hoary gloaming
as they lingered inconsequentially
beneath the interstices
of the frosted spheroids
calculating the intransigence
of polyamorous hijackers
inciting randomized fractal mischief
in these fecund fields
where once lay the head of kings
and Rashomon the only
of who would rue the day
the hour however
As Abe read each line an “image,” seemingly solid and real, that roughly corresponded to the line, appeared in the gymnasium. A series of surreal images, but in a form solid enough so that whatever images his mind perceived within the gibberish, however his consciousness ‘understood’ it…. a form of corresponding “perceived image”, became “real.” For a moment, at least.
Then, as Iglesia started reading, an entirely new set of images…her perceptions…appeared. Hers seeming more solid from the get go. Partially at least, because unlike Abe, she knew who the fuck Peja Stojakovic had been. As she finished reading, Peja drained a three pointer. A buzzer sounded.
And then Peja quickly vanished, for lack of a lasting belief in his existence.