“You are not expected to understand this.” -- (In)Famous comment in the v6 UNIX kernel source.
“Standing in line to see the show tonight / And there's a light on / Heavy glow.”
My voice raised over the sizzling - almost, but not really, keeping in tune with the singer’s voice blaring from my quarter’s audio system. But I didn’t care - after spending weeks in space with nothing but intravenously fed nutritients, or even worse: a hasty snack-and-drink in a random station, it felt good to be at home again and to cook something real.
But while dancing lightly on the balls of my feet, taking sips of an Arcturian Mega-Ale, and stirring super-heated vegetables, I had the distinct feeling that I wasn’t alone here. Not in the sense that there was an assassin waiting for me in the shadows, but more that of the presence of a feral kitten too shy to emerge from its hiding place.
I faltered for a moment, memories of last night flashing through my mind, then I caught up with the chorus again. While also not-really-surreptuously pushing a paper bag of goodies to the far end of the table.
“Song bird. Main line. Cash back. Hard top.”, I crooned, but I couldn’t really pay attention anymore, as it all came to a boil. Literally. For a minute or two I was moving frantically to turn off the burners just in the right moment before burning, and not for the first time I wished somebody would implement a kitchen-pod - managing a solo-ambush was easy in comparison!
Slowly, the sounds reverbing through my quarters registered with me again, and I noticed that the paper bag on my table now contained fewer pastries than it did before.
Turning to hide my smile from my unseen guest, I spooned my dinner onto a plate, and joined in onto the final chorus.
“By the way I tried to say she’d be there / Waiting for.”