ref: cde05f4187aed1c77b8efb57ee5dabe8d5d5106d
dir: /troff/044.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 % 117 \ " start with this page number .ds CF [%] \" first numbered page (bottom) .ps 10 .SH CLOTH BRIDGE .R .PP .ps 10 Exclusion had been the last straw for Maude Mold. Contrary to legend, climbing up the mountain had not polluted the site, nor had it turned anyone into stone. Maybe her calves had gotten a little stiff, but still, she'd been able to keep walking, drawing herself up from base to peak, a familiar maneuver given the bent of her past employment. Discovered other women up there, too. Officiating. .PP .ps 10 Someone had been lying to her, and for a very long time. .PP .ps 10 So, this was where the men went when they were supposed to be working. All of the many design setbacks, launch delays, testing failures, budget overruns, all of it, all along, had been a made up ruse on account of their preoccupation with... whatever this was supposed to be. Admittedly, she could see the appeal. It was no wonder most projects never arrived at a state of completion. No wonder the contractors' club in the mancamp remained deserted. How could anyone down there hope to compete with \fIthis?\fR And on top of it all they drew a regular paycheck from Mold Industries, Inc. She was literally paying their salaries. .PP .ps 10 No one was happy to see her, atop the mountain. Plinth, of course, was swaddled in sycophants, showing out in a repurposed shrine now bulging at the seams with all of his usual comforts. Postmodern furniture, a loyal opposition, and OFC he'd tasked his personal narrator with documenting the event \fIsans serif.\fR She'd been taking all of this in when Piro snuck up behind her and slowly lowered a visor over her head, compromising her line of sight like a blindfold. Instinctively she blinked, her mind and body rejecting the instrument as one. .PP .ps 10 When her eyes popped open again she was back in her apartment, jacketed in black mold. .SH BLOOD POOL HELL .R .PP .ps 10 Her period had started up again for the first time in fifty years. .PP .ps 10 Maude rummaged in the cabinets for a clean mug, toppling several wine glasses in the process. She crunched over the broken glass in her slippers and wandered into the living room, worrying absentmindedly at her tea. Collapsed onto the couch. Defeated, but still clinging to her numerous complaints. .PP .ps 10 Her visor chirped. .bp .PP .ps 10 Mímir's disembodied head resolved, floating before her, demanding an update on her progress with the Plinth project. .PP .ps 10 Of course.