by David Emerson
I awoke yesterday morning to the sound of a 1988 Chevrolet Beretta which was badly in need of a muffler, though this didn't seem to stop its owner from letting it sit running on the side of the road. Cursing myself for once again leaving the window open the night before a morning I wanted to sleep in, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. I cut a path through the clutter on the floor and walked to the window, meaning to slam it closed and block out the invading noise. Fate, however, had other plans in mind, and it sent my overeager and faithful dog bounding into my legs, tripping me. After a few awkward spins of the arms (and a quick thought, "I knew I should have replaced that screen"), I fell through the open window. Six stories isn't wasn't high enough to think much else before I died.
6S
David Emerson, author of I, is concerned about Steorn and their claim of "free energy." If they're creating energy, where's it all going to go?