Chapter 6 is going a bit slower than the first 5 chapters, but I took Wednesday off. Hey, I’m a vet, disabled vet, too; not bragging, just saying. Frankly, I was drunk for most of the 7 years I was in the Air Force. That kind of thing tends to happen when you’re the child of alcoholics; not bragging, just saying. Also, the lack of sleep finally caught up with me. I’ve been averaging 6 hours of sleep and, now, in the last three days have had to take an hour nap in the afternoon (prime writing time).

The interesting thing about Chapter 6 is it’s the first chapter to invade my dreams. Last night, I had two different dreams about where the chapter might go and what might happen in a subsequent chapter. I guess the ol’ subconscious decided it wanted in on the action, too.

Here’s a bit of dialogue from Chapter 6 that doesn’t give away hardly anything of what is going on:

“You’re fifteen?” Gerry said. “So am I, but I’m three years younger than you, but at least we’re fifteen. David is sixteen.”

“Just turned,” David said. “Two hundred and ninety-one years-old, I feel like an old man, but I’m still just a kid. Now, from what you say, Abe, more than likely I’ll never see seventeen.”

“Sorry, but that’s how it works here,” Abe said.

That shows how aging now works on Hercules III. Plus, this chapter gives about the clearest idea of how the bots treat humans on the ship. Earlier chapters give a hint, but this chapter comes right out and defines the bots as about as evil as machines can get.

On the home front, my son and I have decided to rename Rambo to Rambo the Poo. Maybe it’s just that he’s a dog, but I’ve never seen a dog do what he’s doing. He eats his poo. We think he picked it up from his mother who ate puppy poo and since Rambo the Poo has never been around other dogs to pick up good doggy habits, he continues to have a between meal snack now and then. I’ve gotten in the habit of being close enough to give the command ‘Inside’ when he’s finished. He’s very good about leaving the poo and running to the backdoor. In he goes and off I go to pick it up and dispose of it in the prescribed manner.

What does one do with doggy poo? When my son takes Rambo the Poo for a walk at night and Rambo the Poo gives a pile, N____ picks it up in a little poo bag and drops it in the garbage can; big can, nobody notices, except the smell in there is definitely poo-ish. Of course, there is the problem that the can is for general recycling (i.e., paper, plastic, glass, etc.), but not for poo. I suppose the sorters at the station get a kick out of those little blue bags full of poo.