Thursday, August the 5th, 2004

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Two Days in the Life of Blodgett

It was a splendid Thursday morning. The squalls and drizzle were over. I sat in my space-age brunch module having a key snacking occasion, not unaware that the price of Brent crude had shot through the roof. I kept a couple of barrels in the cellar, under a tarpaulin, and decided to go and check that they had not been disturbed. Gulping down the last of my vitamin-enhanced celery-and-watercress health drink with added iron, I was about to unlatch the pod in which I stored all the house-keys when something appalling happened.

Later that day, as I drove at unimaginable speed across the tundra, the sound of Thijs Van Leer's Introspection 1 CD blaring out of the speakers, all thoughts of prog rock were forgotten when I had to swerve to avoid an obstacle which appeared suddenly in front of me. Such abrupt movements did not suit my turbopropulsion eight-wheeler, and I knew immediately that the suspension was wrecked. I brought the vehicle to a halt, mopped my brow, and looked back. What was that thing I had so nearly smashed into? It was the shape of a breakfast cereal packet, but much, much bigger, and it emitted a glow that sixth sense told me was dangerously radioactive. I flipped open my microcommunicator, adjusted the nozzles, and shouted into it. “Boloslaw!” I yelled, “You'd better get down here at once!”

Next morning, in the lab, I watched as Boloslaw fiddled about with any number of complicated mechanical bittybobs. I was tired. “I'm going to take a nap,” I told my pneumonia-racked colleague, “Wake me up if anything happens.” I trudged wearily through the corridors towards the sterile bunkbed sector. How did I get lost? I thought I knew this place as well as I knew my reflection in the shaving mirror, but I was wrong. Ten minutes after leaving the lab, I was completely incapable of recognising my surroundings. Exhaustion made me decisive. I slid open the next door I came to, entered the chamber, and found myself face to face with something indescribable.

That evening we had a dinner party. Snetterton was talking about hedge fund acquisition analysis models in his entertaining way, but I had other things on my mind. Earlier, I had read an e-codex raising the spectre of hectic global mayhem, and I was determined to stop it. Excusing myself from the table by muttering something about a missing fork, I headed for the pantry and switched on the secret receiver. Ignoring the blue sparks and crackles from this antiquated device, I placed my ear against the node. At that very moment, a terrified weasel dashed across the room and sprang at me.

That was Thursday and Friday. I was looking forward to the weekend more than ever.

Source : Day-By-Day With Blodgett by Blodgett (out of print, but available as an ebook (4.8 Mb) from www.blodgettglobalstrategy.com)