Eric Fowl stepped into the interrogation room and sat down across from the boy. Well, he called him a boy, but the truth was that he was only a little younger than Eric himself. He was looking down at the table in front of him, betraying no emotion. He had been like that ever since his capture, seemingly determined to make this as difficult as possible.
Eric cleared his throat.
Well, no harm in making sure.
"Hello sir, my name is Fowl. Eric Fowl. May I have your name?"
Still no reaction.
"It's okay, I can do enough talking for the both of us. Do you know what I am? I'm a proofreader. It's a very special job here at the agency. What it means is, I am the ultimate authority on a particular fiction universe. It's my job to know when a story starts to go awry, or something impossible is happening in the world.I then advise the Editors we send in on where the divergence occurs and what kind of changes are being made so that they can correct the problem. The best of us, not me, I'm nowhere near that good, but the very best of us can actually feel when a story is going off the rails. Like a sixth sense. Or seventh or eighth depending on how many you have. I once killed a Sue that had 27. That one was a bitch and and half, let me tell you. Why would you even need that many? What exactly are you detecting that so important, you know?" He contemplated this for a moment. "Well, I guess it would be me, wouldn't it?"
Eric realized that he was now standing and gesturing with his hands. Embarrassed, he sat back down.
"Sorry, I get excited easily. The point is, I'm the reason we caught you."
Eric saw the kids muscles tense. He had gotten through.
They sat there in silence for a few minutes, then the kid let out a single, quite question.
Eric tilted his head, quizzically. "Why what?"