Days begin at waking, and so does Por's begin. The taste of the day before lingers as conciousness returns, but as he expects no difference 'tween this day and the last he is unoffended. But that is probably less of a condolence than most of us imagine. In fact, life is immediately abviously unferior to the dream Por just left. O how he tries to cling to the dream as the waking klaxon drills into his ears and the laser shower blinds him and cleans his rubber flesh where he lies. He rolls himself onto the floor with a fantastic thud and groans pitifully. Five centimoments to eat. He rolls to the feeding unit and hooks up. Carbohydrate spew, vitamin slime, protein goop and luricant begin to lighten his mood. But it is till painfully clear to Por that he shouldn't have stayed at the Toxicator quite so long last night, he should not have imbibed nearly that much hyperlube, and he should certainly not have followed whatever that thing that he followed home was home. He hadn't got in but a few decimoments before dawn, and had gotten far less than the recommended downtime for his unit specs.
But this was not at all unusual for Por. Very nearly every night he stayed out too late, drank too much, and made various other decisions which were most likely deletrious to his health. But he still managed to get up and go to work every day, and now he stumbles off to the Tube for that very reason. Bumbles his way out of his room, fumbles down the hall to the station and tumbles into a seat through the closest door. He recognizes most of his fellow riders.
This day will Por procede in smashing some dishes into smaller dishes of notably greater purity. His participation is, of course, mandatory as his skill set is so uniquely suited to the task. Por has an assistant in the form of Cirl, robot faced angry hearted apprentice to the smasher. And Cirl could do the thing his damn self they've done this so long, though the official biguidelinerulegulations do expressly prohibit any such action, so Por's mind does stray here and there from the matters at hand as he consciously or unconsciously allows Cirl to guide the smashingapparatus. Of course, the smashing is not at all unimportant wirk, o no, the smashing is really the reason many whole communities exist, Por's and Cirl's included. But let's not blame Por, his is not at all an easy position, although blame might be easier than understanding.
How shall we arrive at an understanding of Por? The next thing that happens is not really a product of Por, it is more a product of a lack of Por followed by a sudden return of Por causing a minor jolt of the reflexes. Which pull the smasher ever so slightly out of the rhythm which Cirl has been maintaining. Which starts a counter-vibration in the main-vibration, and this in turn amplifies the jolt and suddenly the smasher isn't smashing dishes anymore, it is smashing Cirl. And next thing, with Cirl a smear, it smashes out the wall and the hive starts to cave in. Por can do nothing but just hang on. The smasher is just smashing, a new rhythm has emerged in the vibration and it is the rhythm of smash.
Broken to bits. Hive disaster.
Por has overstayed his welcome. Of the moving on now.