Explosions are not comfortable.
“Attention! Attention! Incendie à la raffinerie!”
The gendarmes’ talkie-walkies suddenly sprang into life and a crackly voice announced that a serious fire had broken out at the refinery. My heart in my mouth, I peered through the dirty window of my office in the direction of the refinery. A huge plume of thick black smoke hung like a harbinger of doom in the still air above it. Continue reading
We dream, we wake on a cold hillside, we pursue the dream again. In the beginning was the dream, and the work of disenchantment never ends.
― Kim Stanley Robinson
I suddenly heard the clang of the double gates being thrown open and the tyres of a car screeching down the slight incline to the garage. The only person it could be was T, but it seemed highly unlikely at that time in the morning. He had left for the refinery only a few hours before, as he always liked to be at his desk before the work buses arrived, to set a good example — unlike other managers, who had a tendency to begin the working day nearer lunchtime. Continue reading