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Delusions of Grandeur

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Silken Floss snatched the remote control from the black man sitting on the couch and turned off the television. "You're supposed to have delusions of grandeur, not anger at the world! You're immortal, remember?"

"But somebody needs to fix this." He trailed her into the lab as she strove valiantly to refrain from beating her head against a wall.

"Seriously," she told him. "I was trying to bring back the idiot who thought he could be a god."

His eyebrow came up, then he stared aghast at one of the fat little men, who looked more than a little worse for wear. "Silken Floss, what have you been doing to them?"

"They're not people," she reminded him—again and sat down at her workstation and looked melodramatically thoughtful. "Consider them life model decoys."

He squinted at the 'life model decoy.' "Doesn't this at least rank with animal cruelty or something?"

Silken Floss dropped her head to the desk. "Oh, G—. Sand Saref was right. I need to get out of this business and into something more satisfying."

"So what will we do instead?" He grinned, an (at last!) familiar gleam in his eye.

She picked her head up wearily. "What do I intend to do. It wasn't the Octopus that achieved immortality."

"Wait. You can't leave." He scowled at her. "What am I supposed to do without you?"

"Acquire some delusions of grandeur." She waved him off. "This is what I get for trying to bring people back from the dead."