Fumbling In The Dark

Halfway into the midcentury game, Pilot fumbled its ball, again.

Then, scrambling to get back under the ball as it jumped up and off to one side at a random-seeming angle from where he fumbled it. Pilot wished one of his teammates might be able to polish off the point, because possibly, then tho he had fumbled it and so it wasn’t called, it was still a legit setup for an experienced player, not even an expert, necessarily. Any intermediate player worth his salt could have at least returned the fumble for a setup on the third. Or, taken it for a low spike.

No.

Instead, Pilot knew there was no other experienced player on the court at all, besides himself, at this juncture. So, gathering up his steam, Pilot soldiered underneath where he felt said ball might be coming down, and gathering strength he lowered his chassis, alert, close to the earth in a relaxed, open attitude, receptive while under tension. Relaxed, yet alert he dove for the ball.

Getting down in time (hope was). Rounding off three or four quick throw-away shots that might dampen his prey, pilot picked himself up, dusted off his things and crossed the street to the Library to address this issue.

The second floor reading room was easy entrance plus Pilot was prepared with both battery powered devices as well as a variety of battery-free devices, namely Four Notebooks by Nourish!

It has been a while since Pilot has glimpsed his mission, again, in all regalia. Glancing up, he glimpsed light, pale Northern Winter light through leafless tree branches that surrounded his side of the library. Wide bands of thermal insulated windows kept a warm, comfortable environment by his side and a unique, molded wheeled chair under its hips and shoulders and elbows. Huge extensive feet pressed firmware into library carpeting. Pilot was temporarily thrown into low- contrast perception by direct sunlight suddenly piercing prehensile cloud drifts, tree branches and glass.

Corduroy elastics behind its ears kept Pilot’s mind distracted, at first plus from time to time as after two years, Pilot STILL has not acclimated fully to public face mask wearing and therefore has not equipped itself with available technology fully.

Saying that Pilot was not an enthusiast was not strictly true as he has found it several colors and styles of facial covering. Nevertheless it was still wearing a low-cost, poorly fitting mask so clearly enthusiasm was lacking.

Stylish but less than practical, Pilot thought about the mask worn this day at the library as corduroy dug uncomfortably into skull latches at either side of the head. Nevertheless, he resolved to allow his flesh to become used to it, for a while at least sooooo he could concentrate on other things, like being a better player. Players must not get distracted by clear wardrobe malfunctions, just ask Janet Jackson.

Taking a deep breath, Pilot settled himself comfortably in its seat. Glancing up, he softened his gaze. Shallow but sky-encompassing white filmy Winter clouds kept light piercing the bare tree branches soft now, and he could feel both his brow and his breathing soften.

It really was. All right.

With abilities to ‘chunk’ information and file things, Pilot was gradually able to realise things. Now, he no longer had to ‘finish every task’, as once it was begun, nor did he trouble himself much with judging the impoverished state of that which was incomplete, primordial really. Instead, he filed it away, into one of a thousand online files or into one of a thousand pages he has battery free access to.