Danforth Technical School - Tech Tatler Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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with one eye you look at e speedometer, the needle lding steady at just over one ndred and seventy, a full venty miles per hour less than at mechanical bullet which u're crammed into will do flat t when its merciful owner sets loose to clear its thought d stretch its legs. It is just barely downg the y not yet lit up but half loured red. The desert's ildren, terrorized by its savage ld and sandy winds, now start slow their faces. while your vector is getting sed up, you grab a quick shave d something to eat, a little tired om driving since the morning fore. You inquire of the man om behind the counter who's king your bacon and eggs how ch further it is to Los Vegas. hundred and fifteen milesu, is e reply from the person you know ver sees more than five people ch day. You walk over and open one the doors of that black, land- und aircraft that took you from ew York City the morning before to here you are right now. You pump he accelerator a couple of times, urn the key and experience seven undred anxious horses being ummoned together for one purpose, o move the vector. You grasp the leather knob ith a grip that Hitler only wished hat he'd had on the world and move he shifter into first gear. You eel the rear wheels spin freely, orcing you and this one ton car o a speed where they can get heir full grip of the road. with the engine turning almost ine thousand times each minute assing, you shift to second and atch the tachometer drop to four rand. You shift your eye over to he next gauge and see that you're ravelling twenty miles per hour aster than the national speed limit. Another quick shift quickly ollowed by another. Between shifts ou've entered a notch in time where hings are viewed from a different antage point than by those of us tanding still. You were welcomed into this dimension when the broken lines on the highway became one. At well over eight grand you snap the shifter into fifth gear and watch with one eye as the speedometer runs out of scale for the needle to travel over, nothing after two-fifteen. At this speed, the car is at peace with the universe. You are transending worry to find relief and awe because you know that no one, no police force on earth even think about chasing after you, at five-fifteen in the morning, at four times the national speed limit and less than half an hour from Vegas. Math and Nauseum by John Ceko fl25BD The stench of decay predominates. Logarithms and sliderules rot, Obsolete. Lost. by Ira Jurevics Cl05BJ The wind that whispers, Calling me. I long to be free. A simple Release my soul the wind. Free Free me, let me My spirit flies calls to me. I Free me, let me dream. to me, let me fly. It long to go fly. Death. An emptiness that cannot be refilled. loss of a loved One. Above the clouds let me fly. Free me, let me go. Release my soul. Fly. a dream. Simple, pure, a Q0 9 Free me to follow Let my spirit soar. Hake my dream come true. POSQ. Breaking forth in its beauty To begin its life. Memories for me. Lilting, lasting melodies Beautiful music. Endless horizon. Depth, meaning, promises, Sky, forever blue. Death, a deep empty wound. I try to hide but can So, instead I cry. Hander in my mind. Come with me as I search to understand myself. The slimy parentheses close malevolently, Creeping on the inner consciousness, Probing. Searching. Sinking. A quagmire of exponents, Sucking voraciously at my sanity. The primordial polynomial lurks closer, Slavering jaws waiting to deliver the coup de grace. Pouncing. Icy jaws slam shut. Agony. Intelligence and reason stream out, As through a sieve, The remaining husk drops Into the primeval ooze. HDo pages eighty-four to eighty-sixu, The teacher says. I stare blankly at the grinning horror.

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