ref: cde05f4187aed1c77b8efb57ee5dabe8d5d5106d
dir: /troff/007.ms/
\" This master file produces text suitable for a 6"x9" paperback. .ds CH \" turn off page numbering (top) .B .nr HM 1i \" header margin .nr FM 1i \" footer margin .nr LL 4.25i \" line length .pl 9i \" page length .po .87i \" page offset (from left) .nr PS 8 \" font point size \" .kern \" pairwise kerning (groff only) .hy 14 \" automatic hyphenation \" .nr VS 24 \" double space .fp 1 R GA \" URW Garamond .fp 2 I GI .fp 3 B GM .fp 4 BI GMI .fp 5 CW H \" Helvetica .LP \& .nr % 23 \ " start with this page number .ds CF [%] \" first numbered page (bottom) .ps 10 .ce .B REIDENTIFICATION \& .ps 8 tags: 1961, mars2, jerrymander_mold, tab1 .R .PP .ps 10 10 August. .PP .ps 10 "The voices say I'm crazy, but fuck those guys." .PP .ps 10 Jerrymander, perpetually shifting shapes in the dirt. This time he'd brought along his tools. A stiff\-bristled brush and a cigar large enough to deform his speech, which remained an irrelevant concern, under the circumstances. So far this morning he'd excavated a man\-sized plot off the north end of the runway. Oblivious to the optics, he squatted in his usual peculiar posture, twerking gently in time with his near\-continuous verbalizing the eschaton. Finally, he stood up, dusting the residual carcass of Mars from his prize. .PP .ps 10 Presented for consideration THE JOURNAL OF AUTODIDACTIC STUDIES, SELF\-PUBLISHED. September, 1977 issue. Nobody said a word. .PP .ps 10 "Completes the set!" he finally shouted into the rising wind. This had been a long time coming. Years ago he had mailed off his last copy of this particular issue to someone who'd expressed a vague interest online, and now he'd finally recovered an intact example. Here, of all places. .PP .ps 10 As usual, TAB1 was minding his elder. The old man was typically confused. TAB1 glanced at the novelty publication but was unable to muster much interest in light of the day's higher\-priority activities. There was just too much he had to keep track of, and, owing to this latest distraction, he was already certain he'd forgotten something important. No room in local storage to inscribe new novel affinities. .PP .ps 10 Jerrymander flicked his cigar towards the runway, where it skittered tentatively across the tarmac like an experimental aircraft ready to drop its overclocked propulsion and collapse into a heap of foul\-smelling tobacco ash. Rolled up the key back\-issue and shoved it into his drooping back pocket. Then he walked over to the edge of the runway and retrieved the still\-smoldering cigar butt, plugged it back into his mouth, and secured a firm seal on the shaft as if he'd never spit it out. .PP .ps 10 "What do you want from me?" he said, blowing a spiraling chemtrail of perfectly round smoke rings into TAB1's sky\-blank face. .PP .ps 10 He knew TAB1 was obliged to follow him anywhere.