Archive: Day Ten, PM

My narrow escape was simply a matter of timing. The Cars, led by the SUVs and Pickups, had insisted on staking out furniture and hardware stores as the homes of primary human needs. Meanwhile, the Guns were much more confused and haphazard, mostly focusing on places their former owners harped on being unable to bring them. Unfortunately, the Cars have smartened up, entrenching around the groceries. No matter, I have what I need for now, allowing me to continue my scouting. The tools seem inexorably drawn to the construction crane at the new TRAX station. Why? Honoring its towering awe? Worshipping, even? Though immobile, the crane is animated, swinging laconically back and forth, but I haven't been able to get close enough to examine it, or even hear its voice. Another mystery of many.