From "World Trade Center Writers" by John Blandly

“Bernie, wake up,” Notlieb heard his wife say. She nudged him in the ribs. She had the phone in her hand.

Notlieb never answered the phone. The middle of the night was no exception.

“Yes, he’s right here,” Cecelia was saying, hitting him on the head with the receiver. “Take it,” she said.

“Here!”

Reluctantly, he picked up the phone.

It was Charlotte. “Can you come over here?” he heard her ask.

“Where? Over where?”

“The Marriott.”

“The Marriott?” He looked at the clock. “It’s 2 a.m.”

“Yes, please come over. On Wolf Road.”

“Wolf Road?”

“Yes, Wolf Road. The room’s in my name.”

“Why? Why do you need me to come over?”

“Booker. Booker’s been shot.”

“Booker’s been shot? Have you called anybody?”

“No. No, I can’t. Please come over here.”

“Alright,” Notlieb said. “Okay.”

From "Candy Kisses and Bullet Holes Fill Her Up" by Christopher Wright

"I AM THE ROBORACLE.”

“I know who you are, so stop saying that.” Maybe it should be a relief that the monster I came to slay is just my extremely obnoxious, vaguely prophetic, former robot companion, but the problem is he’s extremely obnoxious.  He’s always saying things like “I AM THE ROBORACLE” and “THE FATES SAY YOU ARE BONED”.  The best part of being a space slave was not having to hear him every day.

“THE ROBORACLE WONDERS WHERE YOU’VE COME FROM. VICTOR.”

“I don’t have time for this.  Where’s Emma?”

“THE FATES DEMAND AN ANSWER. WHERE HAVE YOU COME FROM?”

Arrrhg.

“From outside!”

“HOW FAR FROM THE RIVER?”

“What?  I’m not an odometer!  Go measure for yourself.”

“THE ROBORACLE’S MOTHER WAS AN ODOMETER. SHE WOULD TELL THE ROBORACLE STORIES OF HER TRAVELS EVERY NIGHT. 10 MILES. 15 MILES. 68.3 MILES.  THE NUMBERS RARELY REPEATED. THE ROBORACLE WAS ENTHRALLED. THEN THE FATES PLAYED STYX FOR THE ROBORACLE. AND THE ROBORACLE NEVER SPOKE TO THE ROBORACLE’S MOTHER AGAIN. IS THAT WHY YOU’VE COME. VICTOR? TO LISTEN TO STYX?”