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2003-07-30 - 11:21 a.m.



Love hadn't wandered the streets in years. He had been too busy. But now he found himself plodding aimlessly over wet concrete unsure of what his next move would be. He hoped his next move would find him. So he wouldn't have to find it. Love was never good at making moves. Hands shoved deep into their pockets, he paused on an old familiar street. He wasn't sure why it was familiar but something, a scent maybe, made him recall quiet breezes and the sound of sleeping. Just then the sign went white and it was his turn to walk. What was it about this street that had struck him? He was just starting to feel his jeans grow heavier due to the rain they were catching as it dripped off his jacket and down onto his legs when he heard a voice behind him. He looked back and only saw the street lamps from all the blocks he'd walked. One after another strung backwards as if they converged somewhere in the rainy downpour. There was no voice. There was nobody else. A drop of rain slid off his nose as he turned around and began walking again.


Breaker 2465 do you read?
Breaker 2465 do you read?
Come in 2465...Come in
This is 2465, go ahead.
Roger that 2465. We've got a bit of a situation brewing. There is a canary up here. Must've flown in through the bay door during the pre-flight maintainence checks. He's shitting all over the controls and we're having a hard time navigating because of it. Please instruct us on our next move.
How does the bird fly in zero gravity?
She's flying fine as expected. Now what about this canary? What's the standard protocal? Is there standard protocol? Should we just crush it with our fists?
Roger that 2465. Do not kill the canary. We planted him there to test your abilities. All cosmonauts should be able to navigate without seeing the controls. We couldn't think of a better way to conceal the controls than letting a well-fed canary loose on the cabin. Do not kill the canary. Over.
To Be Cont'd Someday


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