ref: cde05f4187aed1c77b8efb57ee5dabe8d5d5106d
dir: /troff/039.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 % 99 \ " start with this page number .ds CF [%] \" first numbered page (bottom) .ps 10 .ce .B BRAIN FOG \& .ps 8 tags: 1967, mars3, piro, tab1, tab2 .R .PP .ps 10 TAB2 couldn't remember much after that. The world seemed to shift, colors inverting like someone pressing on the front of his visor, but no one seemed to be steering the interference. Red became green, green became red. Political parties switched sides, bowed to their partners. Converse had always been in league with Chrystal Pepsi. The war would go on and on. Right on. .PP .ps 10 MARS3 was already starting to wind down. Together they'd scooped out all the best drugs from under the test site, undermining its structural integrity. Homes were starting to collapse, foundations hollowed out from the inside in a passable simulation of normal hierarchical dysfunction. All of this without anyone discovering the serious bug in host authentication that had been present in every new installation for the past several releases. .PP .ps 10 TAB2 couldn't think. .PP .ps 10 "Hey, that black shit's getting into the coke." .PP .ps 10 Dad seemed unfazed by all the social changes, but he did disapprove of miscellaneous debris contaminating his product. He ran over and swatted away the gathering particles from atop Piro's fresh bales, concussing vortices of the dark whatever it was outwards in a radial pattern, frittering it gradually away from his wares. .PP .ps 10 "Keep your sweat on, it's just mold." .PP .ps 10 Piro still never blinked, his big black eyes perforating any staring contest with extreme prejudice. TAB2 caught himself wondering at intervals if the pirate was truly alive, or if he was simply an aggregate model of visor\-scraped tropes incorporated without permission from user contributions. .PP .ps 10 Dog barking, somewhere in the distance. Doubtless instruction tuning, persistence of time. TAB2 could swear he heard a lawn mower, but there was no grass on Mars. Only coke. .PP .ps 10 "I wanted to end up at CIA, MTV, or Apple," TAB2 sulked, dropping anchor into the quagmire where his many paths not taken intersected. There was no consoling him whenever he indulged thusly in his despair. And beyond finishing grade school he would still have to face high school. At least. .PP .ps 10 "You did good," his father said, not really listening. "And take off that fucking mask." .PP .ps 10 Piro, coughing, rebooted the baling machine.