Mrs H is what you might call a passive consumer of SF.
In other words, we will jointly get hooked on something like Eureka (incidentally, that link goes to scifi.com – shouldn’t that be syfy.com these days? Which, by the way: FAIL) and she will call upon me to provide many episodes until either the show goes a bit flabby and we lose interest or we run out of story and have to wait for the next season. She is at present mainlining Sarah Connor Chronicles (Summer Glau is clearly awesome); it’s been a bit slow for the last few eps, but we hear rumours that it picks up again. In which case, we have some great TV evenings coming up.
On the other hand, it is profoundly unlikely that she will ever read anything written by Aaron Allston, so I have ben unable to get her to adopt ‘Yub yub, Commander’ in the offices of Reprieve. Also, she does not retain information about Watchmen in her brain. She uses that kind of recall for data about Guantánamo cases and our wedding anniversary.
She woke me this morning to inform me that she had had a dream.
“Well, that’ll happen when you sleep,” I said a bit fuzzily, because the Harkaway brain does not function well before eight a.m.
“It was really odd.”
“Oh, okay, tell me.”
“Well, I was surrounded by lizards with mercury in their tails, and someone had put the mercury in them so that they would damage a giant computer system or something, it was part of a plot, and I had to kill all the lizards. I think.”
Wow. I swear to God, she gets all the cool dreams. I dreamed about working as a filing clerk last night. I had to reorganise an entire card index system in preparation for data entry onto a new computer, and I couldn’t find the section between Comstock and Curmdugeon.
I blame the influence of FluffCthulhu. The Great Plushy One was devouring Tim Powers’ brain yesterday, and she was nearby.
