What happens when a rigid municipal zoning coordinator is hijacked by an aristocratic cosmic paperwork parasite? Absolute, bureaucratic hilarity. Meet Anita Lance. She loves half-inch margins, red ballpoint pens, and Section 403-C of the Akhavan municipal code (a glorious four-hundred-page treatise on coastal retaining walls). She does not believe in horoscopes, crystals, or divine intervention. Then a molten-gold pigeon crashes her morning coffee with an eviction notice from the stars.
Due to a junior scribe's clumsy mead spill across the Western Zodiac ledger, Castor-Senior Archivist of the Seventh Celestial Sphere-is unceremoniously dumped right into Anita's nervous system (conveniently bunking next to her spleen). Suddenly, Anita's peaceful life of denying fraudulent deck permits is ruined. Now she's sharing her mind with an invisible, snarky aristocrat who critiques her beige cardigans, turns her forearm into a glowing, dancing constellation map, and occasionally hijacks her right hand to draw geometric starlight charts.
When a terrifying cosmic audit inspector threatens to erase them both into space dust, Anita discovers her ultimate superpower: Municipal bureaucracy is the one thing the universe can't outrun. Armed with a red pen, a green columnar pad, double-entry GAAP accounting, and a terrifying lack of patience for inter-dimensional rule-breaking, Anita and Castor are about to audit the cosmos. Grab your copy today and find out why breaking cosmic laws is a lot harder when a zoning coordinator is handling your paperwork!
What happens when a rigid municipal zoning coordinator is hijacked by an aristocratic cosmic paperwork parasite? Absolute, bureaucratic hilarity. Meet Anita Lance. She loves half-inch margins, red ballpoint pens, and Section 403-C of the Akhavan municipal code (a glorious four-hundred-page treatise on coastal retaining walls). She does not believe in horoscopes, crystals, or divine intervention. Then a molten-gold pigeon crashes her morning coffee with an eviction notice from the stars.
Due to a junior scribe's clumsy mead spill across the Western Zodiac ledger, Castor-Senior Archivist of the Seventh Celestial Sphere-is unceremoniously dumped right into Anita's nervous system (conveniently bunking next to her spleen). Suddenly, Anita's peaceful life of denying fraudulent deck permits is ruined. Now she's sharing her mind with an invisible, snarky aristocrat who critiques her beige cardigans, turns her forearm into a glowing, dancing constellation map, and occasionally hijacks her right hand to draw geometric starlight charts.
When a terrifying cosmic audit inspector threatens to erase them both into space dust, Anita discovers her ultimate superpower: Municipal bureaucracy is the one thing the universe can't outrun. Armed with a red pen, a green columnar pad, double-entry GAAP accounting, and a terrifying lack of patience for inter-dimensional rule-breaking, Anita and Castor are about to audit the cosmos. Grab your copy today and find out why breaking cosmic laws is a lot harder when a zoning coordinator is handling your paperwork!
