taxonomites | [text | location: pool] dead winds' and spent waves' riot in doubtful dreams of dreams

It's an Olympic-size pool, water stretching on clear as glass for fifty meters—far enough, almost, to get lost swimming a lap. Gutters gouged into the sides slurp down the overflow; a faint, nearly subliminal buzz hangs in the muggy air. He plunges in and hacks his way down the lane, arms out of practice, lungs burning, legs kicking up a choppy wake. Sound recedes. He's robbed only of his gasps for air, the sporadic eruptions of coughing when he reaches a wall.

He fights through the first few laps and settles into a rhythm, keeping pace with the Extra a lane over until he lags behind (they never pull ahead—their strokes graceful or tortured, the Extras move implacably through the water). Thoughts come easier as he swims, easier and more fully formed than the shards he's usually tweezing out.

He flips onto his back and drifts, weightless.

When he climbs out it feels like he's still underwater. His eyes sting with chlorine. He towels off in the locker room, buttons his shirt and fastens his belt and straps his watch to his wrist. He taps out a message while slouched against the wall:

How have you been keeping busy?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Writing what?

stuff i think about, but i don't understand the language so it doesnt help much

English? You're using it now.

Edited 2011-05-26 02:57 (UTC)

typing is ok, it's writing with a pen i start doing the other thing. if i could type on paper i'd be ok

Is this a jo [backspace, backspace] Ever heard of a typewriter?

a wha [more backspacing] yes i have i just forgot what it was.

[ this man wants to invent shit for you, mr. draper. good luck. ]

Do you remember whether you have one?

yes. and no. maybe i could make one.

A typewriter?

You mean hatch one.

i could try but i don't really rememebr all the things that go into one so it might come out weird.

do you have one?

[ reasonable question, as far as glitch is concerned ]

Not with me.

[ buffering...buffering... ]

somewhere else though, right?

I might have one to spare.

you do? thank you that would help me so much can i borrow it?

I expect you to take care of it. When I get it back I don't want to be able to tell it was gone.

I promise i wont improve or break it when can i pick it up

Where are you?

central, that place that puts ice cream on waffles

If I send directions can you be in Wilde in an hour?

sure! that'd be fine i can follow directions

If not we'll know in an hour.

The directions provided lead not to the office itself but to a coin shop down the street (and next to a bar). It's a simple white box of a building with an overhang jutting out and trays of coins visible through the windows. Don arrives fifteen minutes late, the typewriter enclosed in a hard tan case he carries in one hand.

The coin shop's window now sports a Glitch nose print, and the man himself is sitting on the sidewalk sorting through a small pile of newly-acquired useless currency. When Don arrives he is holding up a five yen piece and curiously peering through the hole. This activity is dismissed once Glitch notices he has company, and he pockets his loot as he gets to his feet.

'You brought it!' he attempts, too enthused for the moment to worry about not talking.

[text | location: pool] dead winds' and spent waves' riot in doubtful dreams of dreams

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