a regular festival of the hot happy stinks

  Two hundred yards down the main hall, lines had formed in front of a cluster of elevators.  A noisy talkative crowd going to work as slowly as they could, slurping morning drinks made at the Steam Engine, his floors cafe.  Lucky didn't usually make his presence known at that establishment,  he would always head up to the Kings Chair, the bistro at the top of the building.  The cool breeze is delightful, and views were the best, the staff made the most of it by screwing down each chair in position, giving every person an unimpaired view out over the grand prairie.  The Steam Engine was always a chaotic mess full of loud families, student study groups, and inebriated coffee drinkers - a regular festival of the hot happy stinks, playing the latest funked up rhythm of flu, for the enjoyment of the twenty eighth floor.  He could still hear a drunken party left over from the night before, it sounded like Wade, Jen, and L.J. slurring out a song and playing badly tuned instruments.  fairly certain they were using his small acoustic bass, and briefly considered walking down there and snatching it back, but that was to much, so he went over to the man lifts and caught a bucket going down.

The error of enlightenment.

Perched in the nanny tower,  lucky tranced out -  in the heavy haze of mental clarity - on the event horizon of enlightenment - the pineal gland softening.  A reverse bell, one of his numerous modified sounds he had made and put in the system, during the hours of boredom that necessarily is an integral part of being a robot nanny, went off.  It seemed to be coming just over the edge of that event horizon.  He had changed every sound in the system and wasn't sure what this one signified,  focused in on the instrumentation, and thought it was hog 48 with and err 06,  hyrostat failure - then he was jarred out of the trance.  A loud hyperventilating sound was blaring in the tower cab,  lucky hit the hardwired button just seconds after the err message had been sent to service department, looked at the panel and saw that he would have to go out after hog 48, the hyrostatic drive had failed.

Getting up early, and it's already hot.

   Sometime in the middle of the night the ceiling fan put a chill on to him like a cold wet wind; and then he woke sweaty on the bare mattress, with the sheets bundled up off to the side, his head stuck to the pillow and the fan spinning out bad breath.   Sat up, on the edge of that that swampy nest, looking out the fogged up window into the fogged up world, the Sun still thirty minuets to the east, a full Moon making its best attempt at daylight.  The Moon is always in competition with the sun, but never does even come close in the race to illuminate; the Sun will boast on its win by showing off it's power in the visible light category,demonstrating at the same time that it can do much more, and will pour on the heat, just to make that point stick.  Detaching from the bed he went over to his dresser and felt around in the moon light for all the right clothes.   The air kicked on for a bit, made his bowl of cold cereal, went to the bathroom, opened the fridge, grabbed a can of pop, a thermos,cold cuts,cheese,pear - and fled the apartment.

MMMM a steaming hot mug of Plasma.

   He was intentionally ignorant of what the FOOF would do.  Blind to its ability, once the coolant had been stopped, to burn a hole though the earth and at the same time turn that very same earth into magma.  Hot molten goo that was so credibly reactive it would melt a hole in a metal pipeline and fill it with hot oozing ultra reactive plasma.  The exothermic magma would come in contact with water, and that would empower a secondary reaction, and burn through the pipe destroying a vast length of it.  All this was supposed to happen with out a surface disturbance, and hopefully the destruction of the mostly forgotten unused pipeline would be undiscovered, and in fact be a perfect trial run for the main event.

Robot Siesta

 Clueless, Lucky had shunned the ease of an early morning operation, summer mornings were busy and by the sweltering afternoon most people had hung it up for the day, submerging to cooler places, giving Lucky near invisibility to carry out his covert operation.  The heat had another effect that few people knew of, and Lucky had just the most minute suspicions.  Hyperthermia in the human body cause the nanobots, infecting a body to malfunction, weakening the biometric link to the machine.  There was no conclusive proof that anyone could spy, through him, through the net, but the operations carried out on days with nice weather never seemed to go off as well, as when carried out on hot days.  So here he was in the middle of a cornfield, dizzy from heat exhaustion, flipping around a can of FOOF, like it was an empty water bottle.

Uncarefulness

   Lucky tossed, what looked like an old thermos in the back of his truck. Didn't know he was toting around a brew, with a Scoville index of Satanic proportions; that was nominally stable at 41 kelvin, and that the disguised super-cooled containment vessel had a battery with a limited charge; powering a mini-cooling plant running full out trying to keep that genii in the bottle. Lucky had no second thoughts about leaving it in the sun, in the back of a truck, nestled in a old rubber inner-tube; and he might've, at least started out in the cool of the morning.

I will finally finish Finnegan's Wake.

The chromatic typewriter by Tyree Callahan will revolutionize the way we read.  The page in the typewriter, is from Joseph Conrad's Book: The Duel (The Point Of Honor: A Military Tale).  Remarkable!