“Reduce your weight!” the man cried. “I mean, if it is aligned with your magnificent will, O Metabolic One.” “Metabolic?” Wax asked, filling his metalmind and decreasing his weight. The ship stabilized in the air. “Uh,” the masked man said, seating himself at the front, “well, we’re supposed to use a different title each time, yah? I’ve never been very good at this, Your Magnificence. Please don’t launch a coin directly into my skull. I’m not insolent, just stupid.”
