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Epilogue - Part V: Jay Winslow

November 11, 2007

Your thoughts get calmer as the tab of sempreverde leaks into your system, coating your brain with a thick and viscous evergreen slug slime that seems to insulate it against the static of the world. The wound in the network starts to heal sometime in the middle of the day - and in your lucid and half-waking dreams you seem to think that when it scabs over you're going to get a hangover.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, as you lay out trance-like in your room, staring at your white cracked ceiling with unopened eyes, you start to think that a tiny winged imp has managed to push it's way into your ear drum, where it whispers strange whispers to you all day.

"...You know that place between asleep and awake. That place you still can

remember your dreams...                That's where I'll always love you....

         LOVE.

                            O
L              V

                                          E

                      Yes.

         That's the name of the word known to all men.

Yes.                           That was the answer."

When you wake up, you feel strange to say the least. You totally have a hangover too.

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