The day had barely started, and, as soon as it was over, another day was bound to begin. When would it end?If only there weren’t leap years, thought Melba. Every 365 days, the calendar would lose several hours and, by now, there wouldn’t be any days left at all.Melba strapped a helmet to her head. Beneath her feet, the yard felt compacted, dead herbage dried into a pleasant thatch. The un-vented helmet was lined with a squishy foam that served no purpose unless she brought her head into some kind of contact. She stood, helmeted, preparing to launch herself forward.For a moment, she was held in position, perhaps by the air.Nearly six quadrillion tons in all, thought Melba. As she recalled this fact, she felt the weight of it. She considered lying down. But was it wise? Melba’s mother had once warned her against lying down out of doors in foam.“Pam Dempsey!” her mother had cried. It was summer and a downpour had cleared the pollen from the air. Melba and her mother had gone for an uncharacteristic walk together through the center of Dan, enjoying the freshness.
