Aftermath

Kage Baker frequently observed (nay, complained) that nothing ate up time like a car problem. Non-functioning cars create fugues around themselves, and one’s entire day can be sucked down and consumed like  interstellar debris over the edge of a black hole’s Schwarzschild radius.

That’s where my day has gone. Kimberly’s car was in the shop. The household is scattered hither and yon through the day, and I was the only driver available. Between taking people places and picking them up again, I mostly slept. I must have done some of the sleeping upright at my computer, because entire hours vanished without my being aware of their passage while I sat there. I never noticed them going, and I don’t seem to have accomplished anything during the time, either.

Nothing but dissolving dust, sparkling in its dissolution in the maw of a gravitational point source. Whoosh, slither, gulp –  a hypothetical blue glare of Cherenkov radiation, and a huge flushing sound … and there goes the day.

But it’s 80 degrees here right now, a perfect spring evening. All the doors are open, and the air smells of new-cut grass, wisteria, hamburger and celantro. The damned car is back, with a new fuel pump,  and I seem to be finally awake. We’ve escaped the fell clutches of the fugue!

Let’s see what I can make of the night.

About Kate

I am Kage Baker's sister. Kage was/is a well-known science fiction writer, who died on January 31, 2010. She told me to keep her work going - I'm doing that. This blog will document the process.
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7 Responses to Aftermath

  1. Neassa says:

    The trouble has migrated north. I’m sitting in the lovely evening waiting for roadside assistance to come provide the second jumpstart of the day. Amazingly the office wireless reaches this far and I can play online with the iPod.

    Like

  2. Kate says:

    Ohmigiod! You are stuck in traffic as we speak? Oh, that’s terrible! Make sure everyone knows where you are, and please, please let me know when you are home safe.

    Like

  3. Kathy Malloy says:

    I hate it when fuel pumps go. they cost as much as a trip to Hawaii and aren’t as much fun.

    Like

  4. Margaret says:

    I DO like your visual image of what time vanishing actually looks like. I will try to bear it in mind for next time I’m muttering about ‘where did all of the day go?’ I feel a compulsion to end it with a slurping sound effect, sort of like the one that bug-swallowing frogs make in cartoons.

    Like

  5. Kate says:

    Yeah, the slurping noise is absolutely required – just after the huge flushing sound.

    Like

  6. Kate says:

    Fuel pumps, brake pads, batteries – they all suck. They are evil djinns, barely held under compulsion to keep our cars going; and when they break loose, we suffer until we can find a sorcerer to bind them again. Aaaaargh!

    Like

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