The Finite

What is a man? A patriot? A boy old enough to ask the question? I found that the easiest definition involves guns.

Tommy exits the Armstrong building. Walking east is a lanky zombie in a teal hoodie, his headband stark orange in the full sunlight. He slows. Similarly, Tommy’s armband stands out, a vibrant orange on his sleeve. He pulls free the red Nerf Dart Tag 10-round rotary blaster clipped to his shoulder. An errant gust of wind parts his jacket enough to reveal the modified Nerf Maverick revolver in a holster on his thigh. He cocks the blaster. The sound of the lubricated 5″ slide spring locking into place echoes off the courtyard’s red brick in all directions. He smirks.

The zombie moves on.

Well, the infection is out. And this time. We are ready. I got a bandolier. Dylan has his holster. Chris has 30 rounds of belt-fed double-action anti-zombie snake oil.

Boilertag.org has our missions and tracks the infection. He all hope to survive to the military extraction on Saturday. Til then I’m loading darts into magazines after lectures, adjusting sights between buildings and Dremeling firing chambers all night. Why do I need to load magazines, you ask?

This is a Nerf N-Strike Recon CS-6. Reverse plunger receiver system. Spring mediated slide-cocker. Skeletonized trigger. It fires .50 caliber stream-lined micro darts in a custom-bored carrier chamber.

So say hello to Vera. Here’s to you, Undead! Coming at you with suction cup heads.

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There comes a day for each of us in which we all must face our own mortality and come to terms with our own deaths. But I digress. I need a summer job.

Where have I been lately? Since my interview? Well, since that Monday, I’ve had an Immunology test that following Thursday, genetics quiz the Wednesday after, then a Biochem and Principles of Public Health exams on the same day. Then there was the scholarship essay due the day after. My classes wouldn’t let up until they had collectively punched out my caffeinated blood all over the Earth and Atmospheric Sciences Library.

But the good news is that I remained alive, closed down the Gr1llé and made it safely to the train station despite walking through the campus in the dead of morning crooning Jonathan Coulton at the top of my lungs.

The results of that interview will come back to haunt some distant future Tommy. Tuesday, I think. But the results of 2/3 of my exams came back. An (unfortunate) B and a (WTF?) A. I can’t really explain that last one. But no one deserves my thanks more than you All for the constant mobility although I suppose the polymer wheels deserve a shout-out too.