Plebug

"Sorry," said the Story Cop as he tapped a strange device on his wrist. "This thing's on the fritz. Guess I'd better recalibrate. Which way is plebug?"

"Never been there," Fred assured him at exactly the same time Valerie said "Never met him." So much for vows. Still, nice harmony.

"Plebug isn't a place or a person," the Story Cop implained expatiently, or was that the other way round? "It's a direction."

"No way," Fred protested. "Directions are things like up, down, left, right, in, out, port, starboard..."

"Forward, backward, spinward, antispinward, north, south, east, west," Valerie intoned.

The Story Cop nodded his head and added: "Frin, twaa, soui and plebug."

"Bless you!" Fred and Valerie chorused. This was getting annoying. But oh, the harmony!

The Story Cop sighed. "I did not sneeze! Those are directions in the seventh dimension."

"How can a single dimension have more that two directions?" Fred wondered.

1. It's complicated.
2. I'll tell you later.
3. They take turns.
4. Picky, picky. I meant seventh and eighth.
5. Half of them are curled up.
6. The other half is hibernating.
7. Never mind, let's do some more harmonizing. You guys are getting pretty good at it.

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