Fog
curled through the corn across the road as I listened to the crickets
chirping in the grass. Rain had filled the pavement with diamond streaks
that glistened in the moonlight as far as I could see, and the sweet
scent of summer mingled with the humming bulb to put my troubles in
their place.
The clock hanging over the gas pumps read three in the morning, but I couldn't remember how fast it ran. I took another sip of my whiskey and shook the ice around in a circle, tinkling against the glass while I mulled over the day's visitors.
A lot of folks don't think we get the news out here, or maybe they think we're too ignorant to read it. If any passer-by ever noticed the degree hanging on the wall behind my counter, they probably assume it's some podunk certificate I got from the mail. What's a fancy doctorate doing in a place like Stoan, Illinois anyway? They don't know, so they shut it out.
And that makes it so much easier to keep 'em at ease. People tend to notice things that confirm their bias first. Then they notice the degree. Then they notice the air smells a little different here and the radio hasn't been actually been playing since they drove past the county line, but a recording of static played to mask a gentle voice whispering words like "klondike" and "victor" at random intervals.
Then when the ground shakes and they start to panic, I point at the paper on the wall and say, "Relax, I'm a doctor." And by then they're too confused to do anything but listen. That's when I turn them around and send them back to the highway.
Because they're no good to us if they notice.
But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. Let's start from the beginning.
My name is Ron, and I sort the good ones out. My checkpoint sends the smart visitors away, and I let the ones who won't escape keep driving into town. Lately we're all caught up, so I just warn them all away. The really easy pickings don't care to listen to an old country fogey like me anyway, so it doesn't hurt to tell you this now:
If you ever stop for gas on a long, empty road and the attendant tells you to pack up and move back where you came from, you listen to him.
Or don't.
I guess your parts will keep anyway.
The clock hanging over the gas pumps read three in the morning, but I couldn't remember how fast it ran. I took another sip of my whiskey and shook the ice around in a circle, tinkling against the glass while I mulled over the day's visitors.
A lot of folks don't think we get the news out here, or maybe they think we're too ignorant to read it. If any passer-by ever noticed the degree hanging on the wall behind my counter, they probably assume it's some podunk certificate I got from the mail. What's a fancy doctorate doing in a place like Stoan, Illinois anyway? They don't know, so they shut it out.
And that makes it so much easier to keep 'em at ease. People tend to notice things that confirm their bias first. Then they notice the degree. Then they notice the air smells a little different here and the radio hasn't been actually been playing since they drove past the county line, but a recording of static played to mask a gentle voice whispering words like "klondike" and "victor" at random intervals.
Then when the ground shakes and they start to panic, I point at the paper on the wall and say, "Relax, I'm a doctor." And by then they're too confused to do anything but listen. That's when I turn them around and send them back to the highway.
Because they're no good to us if they notice.
But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. Let's start from the beginning.
My name is Ron, and I sort the good ones out. My checkpoint sends the smart visitors away, and I let the ones who won't escape keep driving into town. Lately we're all caught up, so I just warn them all away. The really easy pickings don't care to listen to an old country fogey like me anyway, so it doesn't hurt to tell you this now:
If you ever stop for gas on a long, empty road and the attendant tells you to pack up and move back where you came from, you listen to him.
Or don't.
I guess your parts will keep anyway.
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