“Well, Yep! That was then and there and now is most definately here and right now. Hey, you feeling nostalgic, or what?”
“Ya just gone 'nd hit the nail square on the head babe....”
January 10th, 2025, South East England, approaching a backcountry vigilante roadblock.
Mr Cerebrum and yours truly both look at each other and smile and think it lucky that William’s trips were really into the interior lands, the only lands left to visit, and, in an instant, I shoot a look out of the passenger window, over my left shoulder, and, in a flash remember when there had once, once upon a time, been leaves on trees to flash by, and there is more, a lot more, to come.
And Cerebrum is getting all animated,
“....and the circle closing in above our heads, in space, our very own little bit of space, neat stuff, neat looking shroud, mint! Trapped, mint! Lucky for the universe this virus got nowhere else to go ‘cept into archaeological oblivion....”
“....tuck in the shroud, screw down the coffin lid, shovel on the dirt, nighty night....”
“Virus, most goddamned useless virus ever lived....got sexy armpits though....”
“You just have to get those lines in , don’t ya? Or died, my big man, or died! Junk, dead, inert, cosmic junk. What ya think of that then?”
And Cerebrum slips into Burroughs Mordant Mode, yet again,
“As your old uncle Bill would tell ya all, sure is a hell ova shame it aint the kind of junk you can inject....”
I notice an acrid, chemical smell circulating into the car. Scorched earth thick black smoke from burning tyres up ahead,
“Cerebrum, Big Man, ya gotta jump ship, lose yourself, pirate! I got a Concerned Citizens checkpoint up ahead and something I don’t like the look of ‘s just pulled out behind....Trapped....Mint, muñeca mia....”
“Joder....Mierda....Good luck....”
“I love Jone, you know....”
“I know Alba. ¿Y El Grumo?”
And there is no answer to that you can put into words and Big Man can see that in my eyes as I move to cancel the hands free conference connection and Mr Cerebrum, with a thumbs up that fills the screen, vanishes from the monitor and I am suddenly all alone, and so I whisper to myself,
“I love Jone....”
“Stop the fucking car, shithead. Stop the fucking car....”
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