Wizard Radio

The power bank switched over to the second array, briefly allowing the stark shadow of the table to shroud the baseboard control panel. After the switch over was complete, it resumed casting the pale green glow of its charge level indicator light. Alexander Williams finished the daily Wordle, and felt only slightly guilty about procrastinating on his daily report.

What was there even to report? Things with Mitchell were still as fucked as ever with his latest trade deal somewhere in Hell's half billion acres, costing him God knows how much. Blackflies had come out early making him even more miserable. He hated living in the bushes, and he wanted to be back on base.

Folded up near the fireplace, his Spot-7s, Bert and Ernie, were the closest thing he had to companionship, and even then, he had to take their batteries out every night to preserve their charge.

The weather was the worst. When it wasn't freezing cold, it was blazing hot. The wildfire smoke had recently blown by choking him out for a few days.

"Things were going great, chief, I assure you," Alex said to no one in particular, as he swatted at yet another mosquito.

"It is a savage place, yes?"

Alex nearly jumped out of his skin as Alexey Panyuskin, who also went by Alex with his friends, had silently crept into Alex's modular cabin in the woods. Alex should have expected him, as Alexey had a habit of sneaking up on him as some sick, twisted, Spy vs. Spy thing.

"FUCK, ALEXEY!"

Alexey laughed out loud, "You should have seen your face," chuckling still as he and plopped a 26 ounce bottle of Stolichnaya vodka on Alex's wooden kitchen table, which still had Alex's tactical map of Eastern Ontario unfolded, his tablet unlocked, showing a classified document, and several satellite photos of somewhere important, that Alexey didn't need to know about.

"Nothing important I hope, it would be bad if it got into enemy haaaands," Alexey said while outstretching his arms with his fingers motioning in the universal symbol for grabbing at a woman's breasts.

"Alexey, fuck," Alex said. He pressed the lock button on the tablet, threw the photographs into their manilla folder and scooped up the map in a deft motion, collecting everything that was on the table near the Ottawa Valley, nearly cumpling the map, which he very sloppily threw into his bedroom, sending it cascading to the floor, for a future, more drunk version of Alex to deal with.

Now, Present Alex was not drunk, and this was a problem, which he solved by retrieving a pair of club glasses from the freezer, into which he placed two ice cubes from the door of his Maytag French door refrigerator's ice dispenser. Hw then spun 140° counterclockwise towards the table, and placed the glasses next to the bottle of Stoli, which Alexey picked up. He then cracked the seal, and poured generous portions for Alex and himself, who stood over Alexey, but still making eye contact as he received the glass.

"It's your turn," Alexey said.

"No, I went last time."

"Ah, ok. Za zdorov'ye!"

With that, the two men gulped back a mouthful of the clean, cold spirit, which Alex felt descend his esophagus and decant slowly into his stomach, forming a cocktail of acid, now-liquefied toast, and a few pieces of formerly dried nasal rheum which he had eaten out of habit an hour earlier.

At the exact moment that his pyloric sphincter gobbled up its first portion of alcoholized toast into his large intestine, he exhaled, and gently put his glass down on a ceramic coaster that read "The Great Thing About Wine Is EVERYTHING", which he had found in the cupboard on his first day here.

He passed Alexey a coaster that was emblazoned with the words "MORE WINE", with a photographic print of the actress Sophie Turner, he believed, in some kind of medieval outfit from a television show or something. Alex then sat down at the table.

"So how's business, my friend," Alexey asked. As he did so, the sun hit his bare chest through the semi-translucent yellow material of his open floral print shirt, making the skin look jaundiced.

"Fucked...as...usual, my friend, fucked as usual."

Alexey scratched at a red mark at the hemline of his cargo shorts, "What is your troubles my friend."

"Same shit, different pile, Alexey. I have to tell you, even some of your most skilled operators are stupid as fuck."

"Oh yeah?"

"Sure they're smart," Alex said sipping from his glass again and wincing, "But ultimately, stupid as fuck."

"I have interest to hear this story." Alexey drained the remainder of his glass, poured a refill, and interlaced his fingers behind his head, exposing more of his faux-jaundiced chest.

"Yours very truly of course looks like the bad guy, as usual."

"You and I often do in these things. But that's what they pay us for. Let me tell you my thing first, though, then you can tell me yours."

"Yeah, sure, I could use a laugh,"

"This one isn't so funny as interesting– we're leaving."

"Leaving?"

"My friends have decided, what you said about juices and squeezing?"

"The juice's not worth the squeeze."

"Yes, exactly, my friends, and this makes me sad, don't think this juice is for us. Too many glasses, ehhh," he said stalling, "Not enough lemons. I will miss our chats, even if you are a terrible chess player."

"Is that like something they teach you in Kindergarten over there? Like when you're really little?"

"No, of course not," Alexey said with a wry grin, "Middle school. All checkers before that."

"King me," Alex said, pushing his coaster and now emptied glass towards Alexey, who graciously refilled it.

"Anyway," Alexey continued, "My friends made an agreement for us to go back without trouble, and forget we were ever here."

"The bear heads back north, then."

"No, to the east. From Pearson, next Friday."

"Well shit," Alex said, raising his glass. "Za zu drovie to you then!"

"Za zdorov'ye!"

The men drank and sat in silence for a moment. Birds sang outside.

"So," Alexey said, "You, your problem."

Alex's head was starting to swim already from the vodka. Where to begin.

"Well, Operation Rudolph."

"Ah, football. Early, isn't it?"

"That's a different one. Rudolph is the expedited prisoner exchange one? You guys know about this right?"

Alexey shook his head, "Remind me. We have different names, remember? What we called смех свиньи, 'Pig's laugh' you called 'Wizard Radio', which I thought was too..."

"Literal?" Alex drank.

"It wasn't as colorful." Alexey drank.

"We thought it was." Alex put his glass down.

Alexey scratched his nose. "It was maybe okay, a little."

Alex, said "Anyway, got a guy who's usually reliable. Fills in the forms, everything is great. But he fucks up a few weeks ago, I'm still dealing with the administrative headache. I thought I had him all squared away, but these amateur fucks,"

Alex drank, and pinched his nose between these eyes, "these cut-rate clowns that Pasqualotto recommended, always vet your operators, Alexey. Even if they sound good."

Alexey nodded.

"So I'm on-site last week after pickup, the place is fucked and I'm already over budget on this guy. He's all beat up and was, to be honest, very rude to Woody and Buzz over there," gesturing to his Spot-7s

"Not your puppies!"

"Right? I still need to figure out what I'm going to call them. Whatever, and he's got the name wrong. Smoke?"

Alexey took a Winston out of the red box in Alex's outstretched hand, and stuck it in his mouth. Alex did the same as he reached for the 300 count box of Diamond matches. "Open the window, will you?"

Alexey got up unlocked, and wound the crank of the casement window behind him. He heard Alex strike a match and the smell of the Winston filled the air. Alex passed the box over to Alexey who lit his Winston.

"Normally I go outside, but," Alex looked around for something to ash into. He got up and walked over to his sink to retrieve his coffee cup from that morning.

Dropping some ash into the cup and sitting back down, placing the mug between himself and Alexey, "Anyway, these cut-rate fucks that Pasqualotto told me to get in touch with... too rough. Like, violation of rules of engagement rough. Like I'll be lucky to get intel from my operator rough. Like he hasn't called me in a bit too long rough."

Alexey raised an eyebrow as he closed his right eye to avoid getting smoke in it. "You think he's going to stop working for you?"

"I don't know. They were pretty rough. Not like serious, but close. Too close. Like the boss says I need to fill in a close, because I logged him properly as a regular swap."

"Yes, and?" Alexey exhaled a cloud of smoke and tapped his ash into the mug.

Speaking through a cloud of smoke, Alex continued, "But my operator, this yokel, put the wrong name in, which happens to be someone flagged."

"Ha," Alexey laughed. "Who for?"

"Some Canadian group from out west, who cares." Alex paused a moment. "But it's enough to really fuck things up. Because this guy is my op," the end of Alex's Winston burned bright red as he pulled in and breathed out, "If his guy turns up dead, I'm out a bunch of commission. Op, like I said, might be burned too, not sure. Like I said, I haven't heard from him in a while." Alex became more animated as the nicotine and alcohol processed through his respiratory and digestive system, swirling around his brain, invading it from all sides, "So I'm kind of financially fucked over, and these fucking," Alex swatted at a blackfly, "flies are eating me alive."

"You should get spray."

"Can't. Chemical embargo. Can't get the precursor, and Canadians won't give it up without a fight."

"Too bad for you. I should give you my Gardex when I go."

Alex's glassy eyes lit up, "Thanks Alexey. Jesus. I'm up here for a while yet, and this is just the start. Collins tells me it's another one of those cicada years."

"Anyway that's all fucked up," Alex said, lighting another Winston, "and the resource I'd normally get to deal with this and sort it out toot-sweet, as they say, is booked up solid," more smoke, more ash. "Boss is breathing down my neck, and he's just in a great mood because one of our Federation Ambassadors got his head blown out by someone on their way to the Simcoe power site, so that whole project is behind while we find another FA, and build them up and buy power from these, I dunno, cultists?"

"Cultists? Everything is a cult."

"Yeah, but these guys, I don't know. I'm pretty open-minded, but there are somethings that even I think are weird. Not like what happened to Dallas weird,"

Both men laughed,

"That was..." Alexey trailed off.

"That was fun. Weird, but fun."

The two men finished off their cigarettes, enjoyed another round of drinks in silence, With the bottle of Stolichnaya just under half emptied, Alexey got up to leave, and Alex stood up to walk him out. They embraced briefly, as as was tradition when they parted, and Alexey headed out the front door while Alex stood in silence watching as his colleague walked into the wilderness.