1000 Days

Immediately you are struck by the misplacement of the man in the garb. Gane is like a rabbit wearing a hat or a puppy in a shirt. Doable; just not right. But you don’t know what you would change.

From top to bottom he’s Solex Guy. Gane’s dreads are rubbed evenly with alizarin crimson and pleat evenly left and right when he’s at Mass or ride high in a ponytail bound in a tight clasp near his scalp when he’s on the job. His split-sleeved cassock fits smartly. His blue and gold subdermals pulse professionally from the gaps. His cincture is tied expertly in the old style–thank-you brother Chabe. When he walks his boots clip precisely on the stoneways.

Gane’s hres are error free. No one unit tests their prayers as effectively as he. His knowledge of circuits, networking, hymns, and chants is unparalleled. If you had three sons and you wanted the third to be in the clergy you want him to be just like Gane. You just wouldn’t want him to be Gane.

He’s a faker, an impostor, or a liar. Or he’s deluded, confused, or biding his time. Clearly he’s unwilling to be bad at what he’s pretending but he’s not bothered to fully obscure what must be disdain.

Leaving it there. Everything else that I tried fell flat.

Word count: 219
Day 160

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Gane struggled to prepare his equipment. Fasting made a long day of paperwork and prayer exhausting.

His appointments in the Shanty guided his inventory, but there were always unexpected needs. Some items, like traidl root powder, were easy to carry in sufficient quantities for any occasion. He arranged an extra roll of duct tape into the crate and coiled a dozen more leads into the center of that. The screen on his laptop indicated that the ghosting of the auxiliary laptop was complete. Instead of booting it up to see for himself, he inserted a static hres into the uniport and watched as the indicator LEDs flickered to a solid green.

He placed the aux into it’s cushion in the crate and sealed it up. His primary went into his satchel along with the expensive saffron petals. The tart aroma of the flower whetted his appetite. Lightheaded, he opens a a few cupboards before he realizes that he can’t eat. Closes them gently.

Word count: 161
Day 159

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This entry relates to previous material tagged as solex.

Gane placed three fresh saffron leaves in a small clay mortar and added a pinch of pure silica sand. He muddled the mixture. Before the aroma and scant juice could soak into the clay he sprinkled the mixture onto the circuit board. Gane injected a brief thanks-prayer that the herbs spread evenly over the surface. Even a veteran monk could botch an install with clumps. He attached the leads and dialed up a test current.

He placed that board aside and repeated the maneuvers for five more boards. The utility room warmed with the gentle aroma of saffron honey and circuitry.

Next, Gane collected the seven hexagonal solex panels from the balcony–two were hot from exposure to the sun, the other five cool. He put one of the hot ones on the floor at his feet and attached the mahogany spacers at each of the six corners. Kneeling with a cool one in his lap, he mounted it to the first, quickly added a joiner to the one in his lap, and mounted a third to the first two. He rotated the group one panel clockwise and added a fourth. In this manner he joined six panels to the first to form something of a strange bowl.

The spacers acted as jumpers between the panels so he could now pass a current through all seven. He did this.

Gane checked his watch. Ten or so more minutes to steep the boards in saffron.

Rather than taking a moment to eat, Gane strengthened this minor hres with prayer.

I should probably define hres somewhere–since I haven’t.

Word count: 280

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