Alcatraz Versus the Shattered Lens by Brandon Sanderson, now you can read online.
AUTHOR’S FOREWORD
I am an idiot.
You should know this already, if you’ve read the previous three volumes of my autobiography. If, by chance, you haven’t read them, then don’t worry. you’ll get the idea. After all, nothing in this book will make any kind of sense to you. You’ll be confused at the difference between the Free Kingdoms and the Hushlands. You’ll wonder why I keep pretending that my glasses are magical. You’ll be baffled by all these insane characters.
(Actually, you’ll probably wonder all of those same things if you start from the beginning too. These books don’t really make a lot of sense, you see. Try living through one of them sometime. Then you’ll know what it really means to be confused.)
Anyway, as I was saying, if you haven’t read the other three books, then don’t bother. That will make this book even more confusing to you, and that’s exactly what I want. By way of introduction, just let me say this. My name is Alcatraz Smedry, my talent is breaking things, and I’m stoopid. Really, really stoopid. So stoopid, I don’t know how to spell the word stupid.
This is my story. Or, well, part four of it. Otherwise known as ‘The part where everything goes wrong, and then Alcatraz has a cheese sandwich.’
Enjoy.
2
So there I was, holding a pink teddy bear in my hand. It had a red bow and an inviting, cute, bearlike smile. Also, it was ticking.
‘Now what?’ I asked.
‘Now you throw it, idiot!’ Bastille said urgently.
I frowned, then tossed the bear to the side, through the open window, into the small room filled with sand. A second later, an explosion blasted back through the window and tossed me into the air. I was propelled backward, then slammed into the far wall.
With an urk of pain, I slid down and fell onto my back. I blinked, my vision fuzzy. Little flakes of plaster – the kind they put on ceilings just so they can break off and fall to the ground dramatically in an explosion – broke off the ceiling and fell dramatically to the ground. One hit me on the forehead.
‘Ow,’ I said. I lay there, staring upward, breathing in and out. ‘Bastille, did that teddy bear just explode?’
‘Yes,’ she said, walking over and looking down at me. She had on a gray-blue militaristic uniform, and wore her straight, silver hair long. On her belt was a small sheath that had a large hilt sticking out of it. That hid her Crystin blade; though the sheath was only about a foot long, if she drew the weapon out it would be the length of a regular sword.
‘Okay. Right. Why did that teddy bear just explode?’
‘Because you pulled out the pin, stupid. What else did you expect it to do?’
I groaned, sitting up. The room around us – inside the Nalhallan Royal Weapons Testing Facility – was white and featureless. The wall where we’d been standing had an open window looking into the blast range, which was filled with sand. There were no other windows or furniture, save for a set of cabinets on our right.
‘What did I expect it to do?’ I said. ‘Maybe play some music? Say “mama”? Where I come from, exploding is not a normal bear habit.’
‘Where you come from, a lot of things are backward,’ Bastille said. ‘I’ll bet your poodles don’t explode either.’
‘No, they don’t.’
‘Pity.’
‘Actually, exploding poodles would be awesome. But exploding teddy bears? That’s dangerous!’
‘Duh.’
‘But Bastille, they’re for children!’
‘Exactly. So that they can defend themselves, obviously.’ She rolled her eyes and walked back over to the window that looked into the sand-filled room. She didn’t ask if I was hurt. She could see that I was still breathing, and that was generally good enough for her.
Also, you may have noticed that this is Chapter Two. You may be wondering where Chapter One went. It turns out that I – being stoopid – lost it. Don’t worry, it was kind of boring anyway. Well, except for the talking llamas.
I climbed to my feet. ‘In case you were wondering—’
‘I wasn’t.’
‘—I’m fine.’