"We know that they're there because of their influence on objects that we *can* see." That sentence echoed in Elizabeth's mind as she stepped out of the shuttle and into the bustling spaceport. People seemed normal; their presence must not be far advanced. She didn't see people running past screaming with blood streaming down their face while everybody else acted as if it were normal. She didn't see even one body tucked out of sight. She braced herself. Bad memories couldn't be allowed to cloud her judgment. She'd gone through the shrink, she'd gone through the processing, she'd gone through the physical therapy for her physical injuries. She was cleared and back in the field. She told herself that all those memories had done was make her resolve--

Inspiration: That first sentence, spoken in an AcademicEarth astronomy lecture.
Story Potential: High.
Notes: Good potential for unsettlingcreepyaction. I like it.

"Damn, girl, where do you get your solid brass balls from?" he asked, lounging back in his chair and surveying me.

"I cut them off the first man who tried to keep me from doing what I needed to do," I said. "I got 'em bronzed. I keep them in a jar on my mantle, usually. Sometimes I'll take them out for special occasions."

He laughed. He thought I was joking. I smiled and let him think that. I don't lie. But I don't correct people's misperceptions, either. I sometimes joke, but most people say my sense of humor isn't a good one. Most people that aren't running away screaming, that is. Not lying makes it fun when they realize you've been not lying the whole time. You can kind of just watch the blood drain out of their face as they go back and relive all the conversations they've ever had with you--now, that's funny.


Inspiration: A hypothetical conversation in my mind with an agent about the need for writers having brass balls. Not that she's a writer. Because she isn't.
Story Potential: High.
Notes: I really, really want to write more with this character. I must remember to come back and visit her again.