. . .

The kitchen is not empty. The lights are dim but they are not off. Martin is there. Johnny Pancake is there. It’s not a surprise snack intervention! They’re just discussing mysterious things in low voices in the middle of the night.

“I paste green and brown paper on the insides of my goggles,” Martin is explaining. “It helps me to cultivate an air of cynical detachment.”

“By being unable to see anything at all?”

Martin shrugs.

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