So here I am. 7am. At a diner eating my favorite oatmeal in the world. If you’re thinking “wow! what a diligent person, waking up so early,” please reconsider.
“Coo.”
I’m only here because I couldn’t sleep, and this oatmeal is just gone by 9am because it’s great and the chef never makes enough of it to last. It melts the pain of insomnia.
“Coo...”
And it’s quiet. By God is it quiet. I don’t know what it is, but the people who come here keep it down, and I’m grateful for it.
“Coo.”
A pigeon lands softly on my table. It wanders closer, eyeing my oatmeal. Come on man, I’m not sharing. Hm? I sit back in my chair and notice that the pigeon has something tied to its leg...no...is that...? I reach out towards the pigeon’s leg and he stretches his leg, as if to respond. I pull off a piece of paper. I hesitate, considering the absurdity of what I’m considering. Messenger pigeons? In this age? It’s about as good as any other kind of god forsaken method of messaging we’ve tried. Nothing really works these days without some sort of failure or interference, and most of us have just kind of accepted that.
And there it is, the message. Just like that. Wait, is that...was this written with a typewriter? Hahaha, okay okay. I see what she’s doing. It’s true, that the only things that work reliably these days are things that don’t use a CPU. The closer to the Information Age they were built, the less likely they are to be infested.
Well? What’ll it be?
> Follow the pigeon to your first client.
> Decline the offer.
This is it, then. Time to finish breakfast. Good thing I decided on a coffee too. “Alright Don Paloma, where to?” The bird hops off the table and waddles outside.