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77 Panopticon

He didn't know Lala was pulling him because the brainstreams were confusing her, this place was alive and populated. Some with tunnel vision

others not look at that ass wow I should say something no wait until I tell the guys at the plant good thing I took the detour good thing

I took the detour I can surprise Janice with a nice night out, drive into Kankakee maybe man I can't wait to see the stock carstonightmusic

fromalltheradios there was no music where she was from where have al the flowers gone long time passing well we're going to surf city where

you won't come back from deadman's curve well drink drink drink o fiddlydedink I can dance with a drink in my hand I'm girl happy can't U C?

The post office was blessedly quiet. The sole worker named Benny Busman. Lala rubbing her temples, wanting to massage her tits. Can't do.

Girl Happy can't you see a fading echo echo. Busman gave K Tate the key willingly, why was everyone so helpful and unawares in this time?

This apparent hope at everyone's forever honesty is what caused the dystopian lifestyle he had fled, now at the beginning of the end, maybe?

Jiggled open the wooden door, back home you'd need eye imprints on an iron door. Inside, the box Methane Man told him of. Lala, quizzical.

He looked at it, blinked. A snowglobe, minus snow. And everything else. A note, folded up, origami-style, a horse. Only one person knew.

K Tate missed horses. There was her writing, forwards and backwards, she could do this at the same time, turned him on. Lisa Sestina. How?

Hello, K. Lala reading over his shoulder, only the forward style words. I missed you once you left after I gave you that blow job: red face.

Lala didn't seem to care. After three years, I suspected you wouldn't return. I was worried. I wanted to find you, please forgive me, Tate.

I am sending this from the summer of 2015, things are worse. I might walk the land bridge to Scotland, I just don't know. I want you to know

that I had a strange visit from a man who lives at street level here, he breathes through a space suit. He says his name is Sammy Saturn.

He gave me this thing you see here, there is a memory chip attuned to your sperm (sorry!) inside, I know it will seek you out. Funny thing.

spacesuit guy says he never ages, doesn't need oxygen. Doesn't want blowjobs either, but that's another story. Lala laughed, K Tate redfaced.

He gave me the device you have; its a Panopticon. A guy named Jeremy Bentham designed it in the 1700s but I guess it's, well, more refined.

A Panopticon is like a Skinner Box (remember those? the torture cops?), you can see everything, but those observed see nothing. Fourth wall.

K Tate got it, God-like, a face in the clouds. The note continued: spacesuit dude said this part is very important, so here goes, confusing.

Someone is going to be chasing you because you know too much from back here (Lala: brow furrowed). The Panopticon will let you see it all.

Everything your father and your uncle do, everywhere they go, whatever they learn and create, you will know and that knowledge will stay.

One thing this Saturn guy said, watch out for uncle. Your dad kept writing a novel, Going To Hell, but Dick O would erase it from memory.

Your dad kept writing it for years, then forgetting it, the pages being trashed, the book's name changing over the years. So beware uncle.

You activate it by holding it up, spacesuit dude said you'd meet a girl and she could get it working through the brainstreams you so love.

Lala told him her breasts were tingling, it must be right. Dad and Dick unfaded into view. Note ended 2.25.15 51.52.2 Miss you, Lisa Sestina


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