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peer review

7 o'clock and you're doing science by thinking about how life or time basically knocks chunks off you perpetually, little bits or fragments like specks or pieces, the constituent basis parts, physical and psychic, like you're made out of hardware or something. You've got the whole team, barely propped up in their beds and all of them at it, noting the flat blankness of the sea and also thinking really hard about e.g. the respective spring constants of certain tree branches, how the wind causes some to sway as one, leaves and branch together, but causes in others a great trembling of the leaves but without an overall swaying, this being probably a function of wood or atoms. Twelve seconds later, one of them raises the notion of a human head bisected vertically along the L-R symmetry axis, revealing the profile of the wall of the skull, those various bags that hold the brain, the old clumper itself (swoons!!) plus the nasal passages and chambers, cavities, the reaching back of the teeth into the head and the equine curve of that line, like a grin buried deep within the skull, fixed and permanent amidst the dark rush of blood and electrical signals and then you'd be thinking about the coldness of a corpse. It can't make itself warm can it. Reptilian in this regard. And that bony casing around the spinal cord, it looks so brittle and breakable. The brain is a special computer or something, it's got that aura of abstraction. Wetly operating in total darkness, locked up inside the head, electing to hide. Peeping Tom. Spy. Then it would be evening or after and you'd be doing some great work on your eyes, getting really involved with those sore little almonds, all pink and sticky and plus that crumbly yellowy crystalline stuff you get after sleeping. And definitely also the surfaces of the eyeballs, rippled and shining, filmy and irritated as well, and all the fragments and bits that keep gluing themselves to the eyeball e.g. bits of pumice and skin flakes, stuff from old blasts, whatever's spewing out of the grave, plus dust from woodwork and meteor ash, all of it building in dense crusty stratas over that rubbery lens, although you'd've also retreated happily into the life of the mind by this point to watch for example planets colliding or the sour light of the sun poking through all the debris, or to feel a kind of starvation at the quantum level and a weird sense of okayness about it, and then later there'd be luminous apparitions rising from the blackened earth and they'd get you all in a huddle and describe what kind of science they're into, going into quite incredible detail about it actually, until daylight would finally break over your shocked, happy faces and you were allowed to go home


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