Dream: Yarn is Dangerous
Tuesday, Feb 21st:
Recent media coverage had given us status enough to loiter in the lobby of a powerful local law firm. I chatted with the receptionist and the floor manager about a young hotshot lawyer. They answered guardedly, suspecting I wanted to meet him.
Meanwhile, an emancipated Roxie Hart sashayed down the sunny alleyway between the brightly painted corrugated walls of theater buildings.
[Edit: Oh yes, I'd forgotten. A giant, powder-pink grizzly bear clung to the side of the Empire State Building, just below the spire.]
The famous lawyer joined us in the lobby; turned out it was Steve from work, though they called him by some other name. He'd come to ask the floor manager about something. People made veiled comments about his girlfriend, and he said something about their suite. As he walked away, Sharon smiled eagerly and nodded at him. Time to knock him out. She hefted a truncheon with a silver handle, and I held up a short flail made from hundreds of lengths of yarn tied into three large knots. She oohed silently and nodded, so I threw it down the hall just as he opened the door to his suite. The mass of yarn struck the back of his head and the neural-interface needle concealed within stabbed briefly into his brain, knocking him unconscious. We ran down the hall and pulled him into the hotel suite. Someone shut the door as we lay him on the plush green carpet.
Alyssa arrived with a fellow I couldn't place, and they held me down by my shoulders. They started the procedure, announcing their steps to each other with practiced haste. I complained inarticulately as Alyssa slid an electric needle into my right eardrum, which throbbed painfully. Her accomplice had put the second needle into my left ear. I shooed them with fluttering hands as they prepared the last two, which went somewhere above the eyes. Sharon returned just in time to help me redirect them; the procedure was meant for Steve, not me. They yanked the needles from my ears and began on the unconscious lawyer.
Recent media coverage had given us status enough to loiter in the lobby of a powerful local law firm. I chatted with the receptionist and the floor manager about a young hotshot lawyer. They answered guardedly, suspecting I wanted to meet him.
Meanwhile, an emancipated Roxie Hart sashayed down the sunny alleyway between the brightly painted corrugated walls of theater buildings.
[Edit: Oh yes, I'd forgotten. A giant, powder-pink grizzly bear clung to the side of the Empire State Building, just below the spire.]
The famous lawyer joined us in the lobby; turned out it was Steve from work, though they called him by some other name. He'd come to ask the floor manager about something. People made veiled comments about his girlfriend, and he said something about their suite. As he walked away, Sharon smiled eagerly and nodded at him. Time to knock him out. She hefted a truncheon with a silver handle, and I held up a short flail made from hundreds of lengths of yarn tied into three large knots. She oohed silently and nodded, so I threw it down the hall just as he opened the door to his suite. The mass of yarn struck the back of his head and the neural-interface needle concealed within stabbed briefly into his brain, knocking him unconscious. We ran down the hall and pulled him into the hotel suite. Someone shut the door as we lay him on the plush green carpet.
Alyssa arrived with a fellow I couldn't place, and they held me down by my shoulders. They started the procedure, announcing their steps to each other with practiced haste. I complained inarticulately as Alyssa slid an electric needle into my right eardrum, which throbbed painfully. Her accomplice had put the second needle into my left ear. I shooed them with fluttering hands as they prepared the last two, which went somewhere above the eyes. Sharon returned just in time to help me redirect them; the procedure was meant for Steve, not me. They yanked the needles from my ears and began on the unconscious lawyer.