Monday

I died yesterday, or some time within the past few days. I can't be sure. I read it in the Fairness Rejuster. I go through it every morning, scanning for familiar names. We all do. The cause was listed as heart failure. All deaths, of course, are heart failure; plausibility matters. He must not have given up a name. Or he made a Humorous Remark, or he held eye-contact with a Kumyunuty Supervizer. Or his heart failed.

I've almost saved enough to buy a bicycle. It will give me a lot more time. There's always the risk of Insiting Envy, by such a Taksubl Display of Wealth, but I have my eye on an old one, very old, roadworthy but thoroughly rusted. No rubber tires, but big wheels. That should be enough to keep me safe. IE is one of those gray areas, under O's don't-ask-don't-tell directive, but it just takes a weighted complaint and the Ekwualuty Powlees will confiscate the offensive material. I've saved up for too long to want to risk it. But I have old knees, and riding would just help.

I figure if I choose my route carefully I can avoid trouble. Once I get onto the main road, I'll be anonymous enough to get by. Vary my approach, so that I don't get noticed day after day. That's what causes it. They start to brood, and that leads to Hate Justus. If you get labeled a hater, you're through. I'd wear a hoodie and dark glasses so they can't see me too well. No point in inviting trouble.

Hm. I'm having second thoughts. I think it's just too dangerous. I've been so careful, I don't want to undo it all. I've been lucky, so far, in all kinds of ways. Isn't Soshul Worker a funny title? Assembly line worker. Farm worker. Soshal worker. Once they notice you, it's just over. No, nothing funny about it. No. No bike. What was I thinking.

I saw I's wife U Saturday. She was standing by the fountain in the park, on her way from work. Her breath did not steam. Her cheeks were red from the cold. It should warm up in August for a few weeks. But Klimut Chaynj is so unpredictable. At least we've saved the Planet. U stood there, feet on the patchy ice, staring at some point in the middle distance, still as a pillar of salt. I passed without stopping.

I