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You crack open an eye, and as usual you're hit with a few sensations in quick succession. The roulette of waking up is what order they come in. Today the dry mouth is first, followed by the smell of stale popcorn, then the headache. Then the feeling that there's something you need to tell Circe. Then the remembering that you can't, ever again.
The construction crew has started up in the middle of the street, jackhammers and that fucking pneumatic drill. You plant your hand on the glass-topped nightstand and see that it's 10:07.
The theater under your apartment was showing a skin flick last night. The marquee said it was called Elf Bondage Babes 14. Your dreams were interesting, I'm sure.
The hum from Zug Island is pretty strong today. That low, persistent sound-not-sound that accompanies daily life in all the neighborhoods nearest to the island. You're used to feeling it in your bones by now, but somehow it never quite becomes background.
Tell me a little bit about your morning routine, Jubilex. I get the shit, shower, shave thing, but the other stuff. Where do you eat breakfast? Do you eat breakfast? Are the clothes you put on wrinkled, or do you actually take care with your appearance? How about your weapons? What do you carry with you on the street?