Joey nodded. He reached up and patted Awesome on one of his 
swollen arms. “You're my friend too, Awesome. But | gotta. We gotta 
do what the Boss says. He's taking care of us. I'll come back. And 
when | do, I'll probably have lots of stories. You like my stories.” 


Awesome smiled again, and nodded. “Yeah. Like, oh! Oh! Like that 
one that you readed to us, oh. The one about the little boy that goes 
to a school and he learns how to do magic and he makes friends 
and they do magic. | like that one a lot. Magic is really metal.” 


Joey nods again. “And metal is really magical.” 


The titan's eyes widened, and he froze. Then he lurched forward 
and picked Joey up by his shoulders, bonking their heads together 
so he could look Joey right in the eyes. 


“Joey that's the smartest thing I've ever heard. | love you, Joey.” 
He then gave Joey the biggest hug that ever existed. 


A lot of people had talked to Joey about what he was doing. He had 


been working for a long time, almost a year now, and naturally it had 
caused a lot of buzz. Most people were convinced that Joey was 
doing a really metal thing, and that he should keep doing it. Some, 
like Paulie, who was kind of a jerk, thought Joey was wasting his 
time. 


And Joey thought it was possible that he was. But he didn't care. 
One day he realized he had not slept in nine months. 


He was very tired. The airplane was nearly done. He gathered 
supplies, he put the things together and the whole time, he felt 
himself changing. Joey, like the rest of his brothers and sisters, 
didn't feel much. But Joey felt something. Something different. It was 
inside him, in his chest, in his arms and legs. It felt like the time he 
had tried to make battery salad, but good instead of painful. 


He decided to sleep for a while. Then he would stop being tired, and 
he could think more about what this all meant, where he was going, 
and why. Maybe his dreams would help settle his humming mind. 


He went to his home, which was the vault of a destroyed bank. The 
citizens of Vulture Gulch did not understand money, but they 
understood that one should probably put really valuable things 
behind a big steel door, and so they had decided that Joey had to 
sleep in there. They insisted that Joey was important, no matter how 
he protested. 


He laid down on his mattress made of shredded tires and torn 
automobile upholstery. He lit his blowtorch nightlight to push back 
the cold gloom of the vault interior. Then he slept, his head heavy, 
full of thoughts putrefied by doubt. 


Joey finds himself in a familiar place. 


The desert yawns all around him, wide and empty. He can count the 
number of things that are here without even using his fingers. 


One, there is the ground, made of orange-warm dirt and dust. It 
holds Joey up and stops him from falling down, back to where he 


came from. 


Two, there is the wind, unseen but felt on his dead skin, gentle and 
urging. It brings the promise of distance, whispers of places that are 
far, far away, and asks Joey if he would like to see them. 


Three, there is the sky, colossal and unknown, blue and royal. The 
demesne of mysteries, that great expanse within and through which 
Joey knew there were things of great importance. 


Four, there is the sun, hot and bright, the undisputed ruler. The king 
of the sky. Here it is far larger and hotter than when Joey was 
awake, a massive blast furnace and foundry, where all things were 
made. 


And five, there is Joey. Small, ugly, stupid, and dead. A gross 
scarecrow of a man, thin and tall. Dressed the way that Joey always 
was, both within his mind and without: brown motorcycle boots, worn 
jeans, faded Ramones t-shirt, green army cap with his goggles 
resting above the bill, and his scarred leather bomber jacket, its 
woolen collar frayed and thinning. A grim caricature. A bony 
pretender. A ruined thing that most people on Earth would not call a 
person’ at all. 


Joey has no conception of people beyond the ones that he knew. 
But he has seen pictures, on burnt postcards and travel guides from 
the old gift shop, and he has heard stories from when the scrapper 
teams used to come back from stealing from and scaring those 
people. People that knew and built things, and loved one another, 
and had families and houses and jobs. Soft, pink and brown people, 
with their own dreams. Joey, like the rest of his siblings, is gray- 
green, dry and leathery, and tough. And he knows that every time 
one of the outside people saw one of his siblings, if they weren't 
wearing a long white coat or thick black armor, they were terrified. 


The mayor of Vulture Gulch sits cross-legged in the dirt. He can feel 
a tide of chill, scummy waves washing all around and inside him. He 
is sure that when he leaves, he could meet some of the soft outside 
people. And he is sure that they are going to be scared of him. This 
makes Joey very sad. He didn't want to scare anyone. He wants to 
make friends, and be nice. He wants to learn, and get stories that he 


can tell to his brothers and sisters, and see how much he can help 
everyone when he really, really tries his best. 


Joey wanted to keep being mayor. He had never asked to be mayor, 
but he helped people understand things better every day just like he 
imagines a real mayor does. He reads things to them so they can do 
better work and make themselves happy. If he leaves, he can't help 
them anymore. If he leaves, they will miss him, and he will miss 
them. They will be sad, and so will he. He will be letting them down, 
all so he can chase a strange desire that he cannot understand, so 
he can go on an adventure that could end in disappointment or 
frustration. Or much, much worse. 


The waves of slime pool around Joey, turning the warm dry earth he 
had been sitting on into clammy, viscous muck. The sun dims, and 
he begins to feel cold. Cold, and wet and slick with the saliva of 
some great beast that Joey has never met and could never imagine, 
but he feels it all the same. Something bad. Something... horrible. 


“Hello there, Joey.” 


Joey looks up, and sees two more things in this place that used to 
be warm and bright. 


One looks like something Joey has seen before. A lizard. But this 
one is blue, and huge, and standing on two strong legs. It has metal 
armor on parts of its body, and things that look like guns attached to 
its back and sides. One of its eyes is metal and red, but the other is 
brown, and soft, and looking directly at Joey. 


The other is also like a lizard, but just as huge as the other one. This 
one is red, and has enormous wings with claws on the end. On its 
frilled, spiky head is a pointed hat with twinkling stars in the fabric, 
and in its claws are a long wooden stick and a thick book. 


These two lizards are giant. They have sharp teeth and claws. And 
they are both looking directly at Joey. 


The blue one turns its head to the red one and says, “Oh dear. | 
think he's frightened.” 


The red one nods once and replies with a quiet boom, “Poor guy. 
Look at all this mess. | don't think this place is usually like this; this 
filth feels nothing like him. | suspect foul play, Palsinnor.” 


The giant blue lizard leans its head down close to Joey's own. Joey 

is terrified, and wants to move, but can't. He is cold, and frozen, and 
can feel all of his fear and doubt writhing and multiplying within him. 

He can no longer see the sun. 


A huge blue head touches its scaly-smooth cheek to Joey's. And 
Joey hears a gentle, powerful voice in his left ear. A voice like 
warmth and rest. 


“Peace, child. Peace. | know you are scared. | know. But we will not 
hurt you. We only want to talk to you for a short while. You do not 
know us, but we know you, and we love you. Let go of your fear and 
hear our voices.” 


The head pulls back, and Joey sees that the sky has changed. The 
sun is gone, and replaced with an explosion of stars all across a sky 
that softens to deep indigo as Joey stares. The slime has gone, and 
Joey is sitting in rich, soft earth, lush with grass and flowers that 
seem to spread out across the ground from the two huge 
newcomers. 


Joey no longer feels cold, but cool. Not slimy, but clean, and 
refreshed. 


The red lizard snorts, producing a short flash of fire from its nostrils. 
“I've pushed it out. It's not gone, but I've put a lock on it. It won't 
bother him for some time. It's the best | can do until he puts the 
pieces together.” 


The blue one nods. “Thank you, Dathrun.” It regards Joey, looming, 
its sapphire scales and burnished armor sparkling in the starlight. 


“Listen to me, Joey. Do you understand me?” 


Joey nods silently, afraid of sounding stupid in front of these very 
smart lizards. 


“Joey, you must not let your fear overtake you. It is natural to be 


scared. Going out on your own is hard, and the world is full of scary, 
strange things. But you are special, and you are loved. You have a 
beautiful heart, and a soul as bright as the sun. You have so much 
potential, child. You have to be brave, and believe in yourself. Your 
people are counting on you to see many things, to learn great 
lessons, and lead them to where they were meant to be.” 


Joey frowns. He looks down at the ground and says, “But I'm dumb. 
I'm really dumb. | don't know how a lot of things go, or how to do 
stuff, or where | should go or what to do. | don't know how to help 
them.” 


The red lizard says, “Nonsense, Joey. These are your brothers and 
sisters. These are the Black Iron Boneheadz of Vulture Gulch. Are 
they not heavy metal? Are you not heavy metal?” 


Joey looks up and blinks. “I mean, they are, mostly. | don't know if | 
am, really.” 


“If they are heavy metal, Joey, then they can take care of 
themselves while you are gone. They are strong, just like you, and 
you must have faith in that. Trust in them, and in yourself.” 


The blue continues, “You are more than capable of this, Joey. | 
know you can feel the heat within your chest. You want to go. To 
see. To discover. You cannot stay here and idle away the years, 
wondering what it all means. You say that you are dumb. But it does 
not take a vast wealth of knowleage to do the right thing, to be the 
best person you can be. And most importantly, you are aware of 
your limitations. You know how much you do not know. That is 
wisdom, Joey, and you must use it well. Your curiosity, your 
passion, your wisdom and your kindness will carry you and your 
family so far. All you need to do is decide to take the first step.” 


The red growls, “Use your strength. You are Mayor of Vulture Gulch, 
and you were given that title for a reason. Your people are capable, 
but they need direction. They need someone to show them the way, 
to happiness and a life that they deserve. Do not acknowledge your 
fear. Do not doubt. You are their champion. You did not choose to 
be, but you are, and you stand at the edge of something glorious. 
Go to it, Joey. Go, and win your people a place among the stars.” 


The blue stands tall. “Go, Joey. We know that you will do your very 
best, and you will succeed. Go, and discover all that the wide world 
has in store for you.” 


The plants have grown from horizon to horizon, bringing sweet 
smells and color to what was once a bare wasteland. The stars 
shine above, each a precious and scintillating jewel. And Joey feels 
an old feeling, once again. 


"Go, Joey. We believe in you." 


Joey stands in the wide vacant lot at the end of Gold Street and 
sighs heavily. 


Behind him are the results of his work. 


An airplane with broad, sweeping wings rests on fat tires, shining 
gray and bright in the desert sun. It is enormous. It is haphazard, 
unpainted, messy, and in all likelinood extremely dangerous. It is 
inelegant, clumsy, misshapen, and a flagrant mockery of 
aeronautical engineering. Made of aluminum beaten into shape with 
Joey's own two hands, equipped with four massive propellers 
molded painstakingly from the finest scrap metal the Mayor could 
find, with powerful engines handcrafted night after sleepless night, it 
was a dreadful Frankenstein's monster of twisted metal and rust. 


It was also an airplane. And Joey had never been more proud of 
anything in his entire life. 


He had found a book in the small library some time ago that had 
pictures of airplanes in it. He had tried to design it as close as he 


could to his favorite picture, which was labeled B-17 Flying Fortress. 
He didn't get it exactly right, but he thought it was close enough. 


In its cargo bay and cockpit he had placed supplies. A big black 
motorcycle, armored, turbocharged, and rigorously tested, so he 
would have something to ride on the ground. Six or seven 
flamethrowers that Joey had enhanced himself, adding axe blades 
to the heavy ends and extra barrels and fuel canisters for better 
coverage and weight. He didn't know where he was going, but he 
wanted to be safe when he got there. 


There was also a box of keepsakes, mementos, and gifts that the 
people of Vulture Gulch had given him. Some containers of Chef's 
best oil soup. A bowling ball that Awesome thought was hilarious for 
reasons that he tried to explain, but couldn't because he kept 
laughing so hard whenever he saw it. A copper chain with a pendant 
in the shape of a cactus flower, given to him by Flower so he 
wouldn't forget her. Joey had said that he could never forget her no 
matter what, but failed to explain why that was. 


Those people and more, all those people that he had grown and 
learned with, the ones that he loved with all his heart, were standing 
before him, gathered in a small crowd. Work had been stopped for 
the day. Making super rad cars was rad, but the Mayor flying into the 
sky to go on an adventure, to bring back amazing stories to tell? 


That was fucking metal. 


Joey cleared his throat, and said to them all, “I don't really know 
what to say. | pretty much never know what to say, | guess. I'm not 
good at talking. Or a lot of other stuff. 


“I'm sad to go. And | know that you're all sad too. But I'm not going 
away forever. I'm going to go and see what's outside. I'm going to go 
there, and I'm going to try to figure it out. I'm going to see what the 
Boss wants me to see, and what | want to see, and what | want the 
rest of you to see one day too. I'm going to go meet the whole world. 
And | don't know when I'm going to come back. But when | do, | 
promise, I'll have some amazing things to tell you. 


“Build cool things while I'm gone so | can see them when | come 


back. Be safe, and be nice to one another. Goodbye. | love you all.” 


The crowd exploded into cheers of different flavors. Some, like 
Awesome, cried. Others, like Chef, howled wordlessly into the sky, 
not having the words for how proud and excited they were for their 
Mayor and friend. Some raised a chant, echoing an idea that 
someone had had not long ago when Joey's plan was discovered. A 
new name for their Mayor. They shouted it again and again. 


One, unnoticed by the rest, merely watched, and waited. 


Joey didn't look back. He climbed into the airplane's belly through 
the bomb bay door, and hit the switch to bring it up. It worked. He 
had checked the electrical system over three thousand times. 


He went up some stairs just thick enough to hold his weight, through 
some rooms he had made to hold some things, along the central 
aisle. He entered the cockpit. 


Joey did not understand how he knew that he could make this plane 
fly. But he built it, and he knew. 


He flipped switches and let power flow into the plane. Little lights 
came on, in different colors, all taken from different sources. A 
Christmas tree light below a label that read “OK YOU CAN FLY 
NOW?’ flickered to life. There was a big switch there. 


Joey hit it. He didn't have to pray, or hope. He knew it would work.