Truck is parked on a curvy road, with it’s bed oriented up the slope to where two men sit in a car. The gate has been brought down and slid off somewhat. I check and, seeing that nothing appears to have been stolen (I have a bunch of typical junk kept back there, like a subwoofer speaker enclosure) I slide the gate off the rails and discover that it *can* be stolen. Obviously this isn’t desirable so I lock the gate closed with my car key. The two men on the hill have been muttering complaints this whole time — I think they disliked having me nearby. One of their aspersions directed so I could hear it was that they should call the police to deal with me, and I shot back with “do you think they’ll arrest me for existing?” I notice the car license plate reads IN20MN1A…
I’d been kept awake until 6 in the morning feeling weird about money.
Someone is telling me the story of the first time their partner took the test to be a contractor. It could’ve been Ais, about Reece. There’s a fence made out of foot-diameter PVC pipe ends, and there’s a big open pit filled with toxic, discarded seeds the previous testees have picked and discarded. (For some reason the ‘end-of-the-cul-de-sac’ locational feel reminds me of another, maritime dream, a streetside deep pool with old military ships sunk into it in with a Hawaiian vibe.) Of course, Reece falls headlong into it and contaminates himself and everything around him. This is related as both embarassing and hilarious. He still has three more tries, though.
In an elegantly-styled modern library, section titles tastefully backlit, there is a flash-mobby conspiracy to hide behind the walls during closing hours. The day is communicated with candy bar wrappers placed in the trash cans. Of course, the hidden couples, eluding detection, still manage to all make out together in the secret compartment.