Conversations with a duck
Of course Shirley expected lots of odd things to happen to him during the Grand Ellipse.
He didn’t expect to be holding a conversation with a duck. In Russian.
Don’t ask. You don’t want to know. Yes, he’s on something; no, what he’s on isn’t alcoholic.
He’s being a good little stoner and going with the flow, for lack of anything better to do…
Update: Li has posted the entire conversation, such as it was. I’m afraid that Shirley’s savoir-faire doesn’t really extend to conversations with precognitive waterfowl in a language in which he’s not entirely fluent. (Precognitive? Well, if the duck is talking about the Tunguska meteor strike, it won’t happen for another twenty-five or so years. I don’t think ducks live that long. Avian metempsychosis?)
Ah, well. At least it’s clear he isn’t Russian. Fate worse than death, that. To an Evenk, anyway.
Update 2 Oh, and if you look, the conversation contains a truly gigantic hint as to the nature of Shirley’s MacGuffin. Nobody’s guessed what that is yet. (Other than Alisa/Margaret, of course.)
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