|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Dear JakeDear Jake,
24 Days Since Power Outage.
It's been a while hasn't it? Maybe not for you, but for me. It's really quite amazing when you think about it, how much we rely on technology. How much of our lives are dictated by the ease and security that electricity provides us. It's actually moronically ironic. The thing that keeps us close is the thing that rips us apart. I pray my last letter reached you. I can't really be sure; it's so hard to calibrate the transporter without my computers aid. There's only enough power to run that one machine, anything else would be pushing my small generator a bit too far. Repairs should commence soon. I hope you're alright, Jake.
30 Days Since Power Outage.
I've dove down to the seafloor with help from Sawtooth. As I expected the power lines are fine. We've been cut off Jake. Taken off the grid by the Empress. It could have been an accident, but a mix of paranoia and common sense makes me believe otherwise. I haven'
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
Keep in Touch!