the smuggler’s bible


Parble falls on some spikes and watches all of his fluids leak out.

“That’s gruesome,” he says, passing the controller to Josie.

“You just need practice.”

“But why should I work hard so the cluster of pixels I control doesn’t touch the different, dangerous cluster of pixels? How does that skill translate? Or are you trying to say that the means are as important as the ends? Self-improvement as zen, or something.”

“What?” Josie says. “I mean if you practice, you won’t die like a chump.”

She beats the level and crushes Parble’s high score. Man, it isn’t even close.