Kansas City was potentially disruptive in the good "gamble a stamp, change the world" way. Very very wet and very very green. Which is nice because the nerds aren't coming through as fast as I would've liked and the visionary suits and technocrats are the ones stepping up . . . the vectors revolve I guess, the eye moves. It has its higher-order handedness that will resolve once I get the character generation slotted in.
Hope all are well in this technicolor future, the wreckage crawled from the south. Which witch is which, as it were. If you're into the pole flip nothing will ever be the same. Who runs the shoes. Robert, the guy next to me on the way in, was full of childhood reminiscences of digging potatoes in Presque Isle back in the day . . . John Crowley's hometown. This was a fertile coincidence because closer to home people were talking about the satellite launch facility going up there behind the experimental farms, "30-pound payloads, after all it's ideal for achieving polar orbit." The way back was USDA inspectors on the first leg (rotting meat jokes) and then a surprising number of people coming in from Houston. First priority today: massive clam basket.