Rustic Cyberpunk

It's been nearly a month since being back on the road to a remote site for any kind of durable work. This has been an education on the clockwork of society. I used to work at a gas station as a young lad, many moons ago, and I thought that was a great introduction to the full spectrum of americana. Everyone needs fuel at some point, or ice or some other convenience, and being exposed to that many people so early was illuminating. But that was after 9/11 and, alhough the nation was suffering, it wasn't nearly on this scale.

A stressed creature is quite terrifying when also wounded.

This was my first real chance to sow bits and reap news, and while things seem awful, I'm oddly at peace with all of it. At first, I thought it was an odd detachment from society, despite being a participant, but that seems too easy an explanation. The real reason is probably that I understand there are things beyond my control and I strive to make the best course corrections possible while paying heed to my spotters. They're both at a better vantage point and are more experienced in choppy waters. Sometimes, they get it wrong, but that too is beyond my control. Although, posessing eyes and ears does impart me with a degree of responsibility to cross reference reef sightings.

There might be a short delay between the slow tsunami hitting the crowded beaches and the demolition of confidence off its foundations further inland, but I think the toes are starting to get wet here. Things are about to get interesting before winter.

Having Internet at this location has filled my email bin high above my lid so it would take a while to sort through the messages and separate the tins from the trash. I don't know when I'll be able to get back to my apartment, but it seems I'll be able to leave before first snow.