The one among us who knew the nature of his being was Otolith, who would prove useful for us in guiding our tumbulation devices. History was a confusing mess. There was the war outside and the plague inside and none of us knew how this was going to end. We hoped to dig out of the fallen historical debris. Both bunker and the cat had gone now, the cat having left behind the most refined and thoughtful gift imaginable in the form of dear old Otolith. We could now draw the basic model, so we didn't need cat and housing container either for protection or for advice and company. We were now in mode not so much of taking cover but getting ready to start up a newer version of the tumbular device.
I -- in all probability we -- expected Otolith to render natural and easy what has been previously difficult and fraught. We found that we were back in Chikurubi prison seated near a cistern.
On the plus side, inside-out was outside-in. To install Otolith into the system would take a few days. He would drive the machine, through his visceral register of speed and distance.
I shot an arrow to an old pal and he answered. We had our fine fellow installed and I could feel the temperature of the blood rising. I asked the toilet paper woman to stand by. She had started a chorus of "there are different kinds of patriarchies" and "not all patriarchies are the same". It was raising my blood pressure in a way that suggested my mood was no longer so friendly. I felt a shot of blood register its stabbing sensation in my eye. It wasn't a sexual urge. I wasn't blinding myself because I'd guessed she was my mother, just the intense arousal I felt from her blubbering.
Anyway, day was coming and we had no time to waste to work throughout the night.
I -- in all probability we -- expected Otolith to render natural and easy what has been previously difficult and fraught. We found that we were back in Chikurubi prison seated near a cistern.
On the plus side, inside-out was outside-in. To install Otolith into the system would take a few days. He would drive the machine, through his visceral register of speed and distance.
I shot an arrow to an old pal and he answered. We had our fine fellow installed and I could feel the temperature of the blood rising. I asked the toilet paper woman to stand by. She had started a chorus of "there are different kinds of patriarchies" and "not all patriarchies are the same". It was raising my blood pressure in a way that suggested my mood was no longer so friendly. I felt a shot of blood register its stabbing sensation in my eye. It wasn't a sexual urge. I wasn't blinding myself because I'd guessed she was my mother, just the intense arousal I felt from her blubbering.
Anyway, day was coming and we had no time to waste to work throughout the night.
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