# rest of the downtime fellow researcher henry swanson busy at big science inside a portacabin we feel like an oz wizard on a bad day working in a cramped space sensing nobody knows where we're tonight all window shades are pulled down tight can't be too careful around here with cheap undead base security shuffling around our electric heater is doing its tiny best at keeping us toasty this far deep into surbase there are no holotv signals this far down we don't even feel like re reading tmr the mighty rollins so tonight we're helping auto compile the underscore l8est oil officially incorporated literature sorting and filtering data lost deep in astral maximum amerika in this tiny wood and tin cabin on wheels our home is tidy except for maybe one dirty pan on the stove earlier today we was heating our non humble dinner of delicious tomato soup at hick slice of ready made apple and blackberry pie on the counter in hour we'll gladly chew both along with a freshly made cup of mexican coffee after we may briefly step outside to visit friends andor the endlessly chipper auto dispensing coffee machines of level d82 or we remain inside get a little markour martial movement culture going by walking tight laps in our mini house such a workout involves taking three steps in one direction then three steps in another direction all while following the secret dynamic connected internal chi dragon movement principles of 37 step cheng style tai chi chuan fa greatest thing about our portable home is its association with so many wonderful intense urban hyperadventures us and our co hypercorporation employees dr orloff and scarf ona wire tulku have been to thousands of such rooms experienced hundreds of cosmic scale shinobi tourist escapades together through these windows we've seen lakes and streams of alien planet life blood mountain peaks of spectral fire along with deaders shufflers tar men even few hardcore giant super blues tomorrow we'll return our deck also known as personal research computer to it's docking station lock down the drawers and cupboards and point our temporary elf motorised home back to the silent mystic spaces of the east for this is the often violetly humdrum daily life of a big scientist a space where the blandly fantastic and horrifyingly bland are made ubiquitous and everyday by the even daily march that of 80's neon tinged timelessness / lofi retro 80's crt scan lines simple filled poly gonal graphics made by real artists using less time for more pay it's taken us while to find a partner in suburban love 7665 earth days in fact not that we was even trying until we met and started going out before it was only noticing soft warm researchers in the middle distance repeatedly finding this scientific student body jerking alone in cold blue rooms of nowhere bright soft pictures pasted on inside of a thick animal skull but now this was real or at least different there was once a humalien with heavy rising arrogance we adored them for three silent awkward and confused years one day they said let's go to jean michel jarre's docklands concert together daddy dear will pay for us both do we go to the concert do we heck part of us senses this would be the best thing to do yet the rest of this idiot brain is still unsure about everything shame though we heard it was a great gig a week after the concert we go to party of theirs still too choked by shyness to say a word especially with all their dumb smug hole friends staring and giggling thing is by the end of party our fresh love had enough of waiting for mr too shy shy to say or do anything they quickly end up snogging some random curly haired punk from the year above in the gap under their stairs we accidentally catch them at it and immediately feel the burning faced need to leave their faces mashing together right in ours several of their friends look on at this lurid spectacle and smirk oh to depart alone into the raging night in an acute sudden measure of hyperviolent jealousy something never experienced before but which now felt like hot deff for touching our first fresh love we want to crush that curly basket with silent stony hands of secret internal chinese kung fu deff the very next monday mourning we broke up not that we were ever officially an item they bawled their eyes out as though having recently lost a lover to a wild gardening accident everyone in class stared in shock and wanted to know why we were being so awful as usual all their snotty super friends were listening in with ignorance and automated judgement we however were too much of a gentleman to inform them of our love's recent emotional tryst with mr curly under the party stairs no their arthole friends make us feel precisely like the jerk we were swanson update: we should have apologized researchers often conveniently forget the universe's ways of reminding them all is vanity one should humble elf before reality because from the outset one doesn't know jack credible to think how much one can wing it for years on end until the crash until caught alone again in a cold dark lab corner the rest of the drawn out year was permanently grey and emotionally overcast our tender pendulous blossoming researcher would occasionally half smile at us in awkward silence from the far side of the corridor as we passed on our way to separate lab classes oh that close unbridgeable distance was quietly heartbreaking and we never once spoke to each other again dear friend we're sorry we'd of have gladly been your dented plastic toy cared for your needs with warm silent tenderness you don't need any big scientist's permission to snog rando idiots under the stairs at your own party that curly little stain with his filthy monkey tongue down your throat only remembers your vague half sugar melon memories but not your name or who you're a beautiful kind human being if you were frustrated with what you considered was our lack of charging scientific vigor you should of gently informed us instead of instantly going with must of been your willing backup choice from the outset we mean heck you were the one who invited them there i go again acting the arthole never mind look forget it truly there seems nothing as utterly useless as ancient scientific memory digging in the dusty archives just makes one cough eventually one mummifies absorbing too much dead time // [[republic of bob contents | imaginary pastime republic of bob]]