Sangamon Taylor had a philosophy when it came to biking in Boston traffic, one that went at odds with legality and radio PSAs, but he hadn't found himself facedown in a pothole with a station wagon and an MBTA bus duking out the airspace rights over his ass. Yet.
It was the submarine-drama method: run silent, run deep, but pretend like he was wearing a day-glo flak jacket and the bouncing of his back wheel was a pimply kid with light-up batons directing traffic up his cracked rear fender, rather than just Comm Ave's meager excuse for asphalt.
This a long way of saying that he had not switched his flashlight on.
In most cases, "if you can't see them, they can't see you", were last words eclipsed only in utter moronic aptitude by "the enemy can't hit us --". But the Institute specialized in bucking the bell curve; for once, S.T. was slicing through probability waves at a familiar clip.
no subject
Sangamon Taylor had a philosophy when it came to biking in Boston traffic, one that went at odds with legality and radio PSAs, but he hadn't found himself facedown in a pothole with a station wagon and an MBTA bus duking out the airspace rights over his ass. Yet.
It was the submarine-drama method: run silent, run deep, but pretend like he was wearing a day-glo flak jacket and the bouncing of his back wheel was a pimply kid with light-up batons directing traffic up his cracked rear fender, rather than just Comm Ave's meager excuse for asphalt.
This a long way of saying that he had not switched his flashlight on.
In most cases, "if you can't see them, they can't see you", were last words eclipsed only in utter moronic aptitude by "the enemy can't hit us --". But the Institute specialized in bucking the bell curve; for once, S.T. was slicing through probability waves at a familiar clip.
[to here, moving through with permission]