And Gutenberg Lived Here: Chariots Of The Pods.

I get a truly wonderful info page regularly,

called Geek News-

great fun over breakfast,

especially if you are married to a scientist

whose comments are usually along the lines of “they say what,,,?

as they hold you a lecture on why Isaac Newton would not be amused.

And you retreat into a wonderful joyful early early morning world of

declaiming husband,

roaming animals,

background noise level news,

and

extra-large extra pitch black Irish tea,

(extra brought back from a vacation,)

sipping slowly,

while trying to avoid frustration eating,

as you read the gentile popularized science reports,

which are very erudite,

and so fully guaranteed to make you feel

that you are with it in the modern ever evolving world

where Muskrats rule the day.

(You’re not!- but no one under the age of thirty-five recognizes that,

so if you  are over thirty-five

just accept it:

ie

that you will never will be at home in a world

where it is normal to not know which part of your body

will be linked up or part of a machine next.

(To test how much of you is human, tap the small box “I am not a robot”

on the captha reminders.

If a little check mark appears,l

you weren’t a robot,

but you are now.)

And then,

in the middle of all my grousing,

(actually I prefer to think of it as Jules Verne-ism)

and smiling at witticism about alphas and epsilons I don’t really understand,

there was the Geek groupy epithora-

that moment when you step out of the Tardis,

and realize the darned thing has put you down somewhere it wasn’t really programmed to take you

as far as you know.

Ie

We are entering a near future,

where we will travel four hundred miles in just eight minutes-

after first entering  a small six man pod-

which then enters a concrete tube

(concrete tube ? As in no windows?

So how will I know that I am in Switzerland

except that the compartment is now perfectly clean,

and small mountain shaped chocolates

are laid out on my armrest)

The said tube being airless

say what?

Do plastic masks drop from the ceiling-

put them over your own face before putting them on the baby-

and they are powered by solar panels-

In Germany?

Land of wet wet wet?

(Think Seattle)

Besides, I thought we were in a concrete tube.

So if the panels don’t work,

and the masks don’t drop…

What is the longest anyone has ever held their breath?

Or maybe there is one of those emergency air tanks,

that you all-

you and five strangers-

have to share.

And then…

wait-

as much as I love train rides,

has anybody else out there ever been stuck

in a randomly computer tossed-together

train compartment for six-

even if it is, in this case, only for eight minutes?

I have been on a plane with a man in a ragged straw hat,

smelling strongly of pot and dead fish,

and his dog,

and his harmonica,

and a bird,

which was never in the cage he had along.

And then there was the time I was vegetarian,

and ended up bumped into first class

with a vegetarian guru

in a blue robe-like thingy,

and his 28 female companions,

in blue saris,

each with a gold chain and large picture of him attached to it.

I am now again vegetarian,

but it took a while,

(Actually, the first thing I did when I got off the plane the next morning,

was buy a hamburger.

And then there are the ones who always have something to sell-

“I used to be a heroine addict,

but now I’m a…”

New Illuminati, ala Dan Brown,

Light Bringer  (those who stalk you to convert you)

and the ones I really love,

the ones who are in therapy,

or are therapists themselves,

who have these monstrously huge rubber bands around their wrists,

and snap them,

continuously,

because they are always stressed,

as they tell you how much calmer they are.

The entire eight minutes it takes you to…

Actually, I have been thinking seriously lately,

of joining the Creative Anachronism society again,

we were in a lute and flute medieval group,

and maybe, this time,

join an up and down the coast dragon boat crew.

I always wanted to visit the islands in the north sea.

Or are the Muskrats planning an underground version of the eight minute tube?

4000 miles per hour.

Here to San Francisco, pick up some sourdough bread,

and back again for lunch.

Then again,

six man pods….

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