Sport 27: Spring 2001
It's a Saturday evening. Jones and his wife will soon be going out. He closes Underworld and pours himself a second Scotch and soda.
Emanations permeate the home. Frilly microwaves waft through tables, chairs. Jervis too absorbs invisible streams of quanta (Jervis is the easily wounded dog).
‘Snap out of it,’ says Shura.
‘I'm thinking neutrinos and stuff.’
‘And I'm thinking stir, there's a taxi on the way.’
‘Quark quark quark,’ says Jones.
‘You're not a bit funny. And take your feet off that.’