On the public transit bus, I had payed the $2.50 fee to ride, though see others board for free. In my seat I begin to drift— mind meandering until I’m in the third person. Not so dissociative, more so all-intuitive. I think of myself as some detective from a noir flick from probably a century ago, and being in Chicago I had a perfect image and energy to feed off for such a bit.
Going along on the way to the Museum of Science & Industry, as it would pertain to answers necessary to solving a secret case. See, some weeks ago a group, some degrees removed from old Capone and his goons, hijacked a delivery expecting booze and wound up mistakenly making it away with some leftover moon food. That dehydrated stuff they give to astronauts. Not the most glorious case to take, but one must make a name by some stakes.
Entrance to the museum and innard exhibitions free as being on “active duty” for the case, though I’m not technically working for any agency, merely lending assistance where they screwed the pooch. There inside I find where it all would be to see, checking out some examples of what I am looking for which isn’t stolen. In order to “gain a better idea” about it all I stop in and see a small explanatory video about space— it’s a hopeless case. The stolen food is an inconsequential, although unfortunate, misstep which is likely lost forever. Dehydrated I’m not sure where it will end up beside some trash bin or dumped on the side of some road.
Stopping at the cafe inside the monolith of a museum to have coffee and a donut prior and after the screening, coming up with this silly daydream.
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