One hundred six degrees of suppuration

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Okay, okay, God, we get it. We'll curtail our greenhouse gas emissions a lot. We'll pour all our research dollars into alternative fuels. We'll stop fucking around with oil, not to mention fighting over access to that poison. Just, for Christs's sake, turn down the heat!

It looks like something out of an old animated cartoon. There are police vans with huge ranks of loudspeakers puttering around Manhattan, exhorting citizens to conserve electricity. I wouldn't be surprised to hear that affectless, amplified voice declaring that the end is nigh.
When I arrived at my office building today, I was alone in the elevator up. The elevator was cooler than the lobby, but not by a lot. The lobby in turn was cooler than out on the street by some.

I pressed the button for 12. It was the only button lit. The elevator started up.

It stopped at 3.

And didn't open.

I punched the button for 3. Nothing.

After fifteen or twenty seconds, the elevator seemed to gather its wits. It rose a short distance and stopped again, or that's what it felt like.

I punched the button for 4. Nothing.

Then I looked at the floor indicator. We were at 5, 6, 7.

I held my breath.

At 12, the elevator stopped and the door opened. I resolved that when I leave, I will leave by the stairs.

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William Shunn

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This page contains a single entry by William Shunn published on August 3, 2006 12:54 PM.

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