ref: b9fbb17c04e4ccfb2021dac818e514351ca8f646
dir: /troff/0106.ms/
.LP \& .ce .sp |4.25i .PP .ps 12 .CW ░ "Do you put on your data gloves \fIbefore\fR or \fIafter\fR you pee in the morning?" .PP .ps 12 There was a reason SL never attended these meetings. Hadn't, since he'd arrived. He'd been warned in advance. .PP .ps 12 \fI"Both,"\fR he interjected, annoyed. Of course he took them off to piss. Unlike these cretins, he guessed. .PP .ps 12 He stood up to leave. .PP .ps 12 No paper today. Something he'd vaguely overheard about a general strike. Apparently only observed by the press. .PP .ps 12 Otherwise, today was exactly the same as every other day. Tea, eggs, stretch, walk, watch, walk, stretch, sit. A rhythm scarcely broken by the absence of printed nothingness. Maybe he should be saving his money. .PP .ps 12 There were always welcoming faces down at the VFW. He shot some pool, asked the old men questions about California. They were generous with their stories. One of them had been to the Mission District before the city had gotten rid of the titty bars (his words). A place with comic books varnished to the men's room walls. .PP .ps 12 None of them used anymore. .PP .ps 12 SL had never served and so he didn't have much to contribute in return. He'd mention his father and they'd nod. It was usually good for a couple of drinks. .PP .ps 12 By Christmas time, this place would be full of kids trying to climb onto Santa's lap, but today it was just a bunch of sad, old men avoiding eye contact, trying not to mention the Internet. .PP .ps 12 What had really happened, back in 1993? He knew of course that by early October the war had silently kicked off, but the papers back then\(emand TV, and religion\(emhad all failed to recognize what it would inevitably add up to, once the dispossessed had finally been disposed of. The familiar cycle: changes that were at first gradual, but accelerated smoothly along a menacing, nearly vertical curve until, even before the reboot, continuity was arcing, spiraling, babbling out of control. No longer was this to be the staid, predictable march from trope to cliché to signature recurring trademark. Trademark! And now trademarked again, for this derivation was assuredly all new, all different, a departure from, but shining example of, the once and future downwardly spiraling status quo. Here was the final dissolution of reading comprehension. \fIE pluribus nullus, ad infinitum.\fR .PP .ps 12 For SL's part, he was glad that the papers were back in print. It gave him something to do with his hands. .PP .ps 8 .CW VETERANS\ OF\ FOREIGN\ WIDE\ AREA\ NETWORKS .R .PP .ps 12 SL stared at the tarnished bronze plaque while the others took their shots. He missed whatever remarks the men made while he was standing there, slack\-jawed, gaping at their knickknacks. Someone had just mentioned "Bay Area rents," and the place fell silent as a pre\-war visor. .PP .ps 12 SL edged his way out of the room and made for the front door. .PP .ps 12 This wasn't his fight. .PP .ps 12 Back at the hotel, SL fidgeted nervously, unsure if he should break into his emergency supply of disposables. He'd been doing so well these past few weeks. Not even checking his stocks. And now here he was contemplating an entire evening spent drowning his many sorrows in everything he'd been denying himself for a month. Like nothing at all had changed. .PP .ps 12 Well, maybe .I nothing at all had changed. .R