Saturday, April 01, 2017
The Thinker on a Block of Ice
Roark luckily reached a human.
Robots never assured him.
Even though Mr Chance quoted
the robot, Roark worried less.
“It says don’t fret about a temp
of 136. Start getting concerned
around 150.”
In the meantime he was to seek
every opportunity to cool down.
In the Non-Radiation Zone he had
permission now to enter, courtesy
of Mr Chance, he could sit on a
block of ice.
The gossip there pointed to young
women wearing clothes again.
The doctors saying on All-Media
that it was unhealthy.
“But, aesthetically,” Roark remarked
to a paunchy Lillian on the closest
block, “adding a bit of color?”
She’s firm, though, in calling
them whores.
Labels: fever, future, future medicine, Medicine, mores, nudity, radiation, sex, social norms, standards, war, whore
