When crook, however, it is a karmic mystery. Payback for depriving the cat of its latest mouse? Punishment for not caring all that much about whales? There is no ready explanation except that life isn't fair.Dixon was alive again. Consciousness was upon him before he could get out of the way; not for him the slow, gracious wandering from the halls of sleep, but a summary, forcible ejection. He lay sprawled, too wicked to move, spewed up like a broken spider-crab on the tarry shingle of the morning. The light did him harm, but not as much as looking at things did; he resolved, having done it once, never to move his eyeballs again. A dusty thudding in his head made the scene before him beat like a pulse. His mouth has been used as a latrine by some small creature of the night, and then as its mausoleum. During the night, too, he’d somehow been on a cross-country run and then been expertly beaten up by a secret police. He felt bad.
Anyway, posting will be a little irregular over the next few days, as quite a few responsibilities had to be put off while the lurgy rampaged.