Dead dogs get no love in this world. Or do you now suddenly care?

It's long past newsworthy that the kids don't know the true and natural origin of their Calcimilk beverage. And I hardly found myself in the righteous position of judging them about the lack of that knowledge. Until this morning I no longer thought about the source of the fishmeat I consume on an almost daily basis. Yet this morning's encounter with an actual fisherman (a profession my naievete thought long extinct) only painfully revealed the damage done to my worldliness by networking ever farther in an ever more closed cocoon of entertainment, tech and consuming. This particular fisherman (the word still feels like antique to me) was in the unlucky position of venturing too close to the Northscreen barrier when the, until now badly explained, explosion in the LDN.SPHERE occurred. His hands blistered, burned and now feel almost as if molded out of chunky dried-up clay. What the violent event might have done to those dwelling nearer to the blast I hardly dare imagine.

As luck would have it not too far away a reckless Frostygirl showed up in broad daylight. Probably lost, as the nearest frostybar was at least 10 miles more south in the BXL.SPHERENET, she turned out to be much less agressive than expected. Still, encountering one this far out of their regular Arcturf does make me seriously consider buying a Blojo Heatkicker of respectable caliber. Keeping it hanging at no more than an arm's length from my utility belt. Less than an eye-blink away from a possible icy death.

They call him the Human Bear. Wilderness-hair all over his rugged-shaped face, society has shunned him and forced him to shy away from most human contact in return. An abandoned riverboat has provided him with a home. Or at least a roof above his savage appearance. He's lived there ever since he growlingly chased away a roving gang of junkies. His reputation keeps the adjacent woods free from malignant individuals. The occasional portions of food I leave him on the riverbank are always thankfully devoured. You're welcome, lonely man-bear. Nice dreams to you!