I wake up in a small dark space. The dream ends, but the sound is real. I am in a type of vehicle, slow and heavy. Light flows from a hatch above me, illuminating the clouds of my breath. Looking closely, I see a certain otter wearing a helmet and a small antiaircraft jacket on the controls of what appears to be a steam tank.
Although the tank does not have windows, I know where we are. Right after the winter solstice, I was once again summoned in the Sax-Zim Bog to see the Oracle. Or so I think.
It's much warmer in the cabin. Behind me, two otters feed the coal with a boiler. They see me and shout: "He's awake!"
The captain looks at me. "Almost there," speaks in his limited vocal range. Now I hear a swamp rub against the body of the tank. A few minutes later, the lead otter pulls a release valve, letting out a great whistle and blowing steam down the side of the tank. The vehicle stops until it stops.
"We are here".
When I leave, I gasp. Last year, the swamp changed significantly as the beavers built a huge "tower of stumps," began to use power ties, and grew their fur in flowing coifs. Now the place looks like an industrial lunar landscape. Power hungry beavers still seem to be in charge, but it seems they have not slept since last year. His ties and hair hang crooked.
"Welcome to the swamp, Mr. Brown, we've been waiting for you."
That name. That face. Would not be
"We have not met yet, I'm Sean Spicer."
The former White House press secretary, Sean Spicer, now stands in front of me in a pair of bibs designed to look like a business suit.
"I'm sorry, but what are you doing here?" I ask.
"Jobs were scarce when I left the White House," he replies. "These forest creatures were willing to put an extra zero at the end of my salary just to get me out of here." Then I found out what they meant after the decimal point, by that time, I did not know how to get home, is this Siberia?
“Minnesota,” I say.
"This is a state, I thought this was one of Vlad's camps, anyway, we brought you here to ..."
"Where is the Oracle?" I interrupted.
"Well, she started investigating Stump Tower, found an alleged collaboration with a global union of migratory birds based in Russia that also owns the New York Knicks and several international shipping companies, but they are false news."
"But, she is the Oracle? She sees the future!"
"We are not worried about the future in Stump Tower, only the here and now, we brought you here for a reason, but first let's take a look - here you will see the Exchange Department."
Dozens of minks, ferrets and pine martens gather around a table full of Twinkies, watching a bear eat all of them. "
"But that bear is not sharing," I say.
"Oh, in about 12 hours, that bear will give them something to eat." Spicer changes the subject: "Next you will see the Department of Friends".
"But those two badgers fight with nails and teeth," I say.
"Oh, they're friends," says Spicer. "They just tried to talk about politics, one of them thinks the air is real and the other thinks the air is a government conspiracy that keeps us from using our secret guts, anyway, the latter is the best. of happiness ".
"Well, these bugs are just looking at their phones," I say.
"It could look like that, but in the surveys these animals claim a satisfaction index of 72."
Looked at him.
"That's a lot."
This is crazy. "Why am I here?" I scream.
"Well, that's it, we brought you here to say goodbye to the Sax-Zim Bog Oracle."
"Can I fire her? Can I do that? Can someone do that? I mean, the truth is the truth."
"Only if people know what the truth is." Anyway, we can not let you go home until you fire. Only one simple thing. The words are "You're fired." Tell them, and you'll be hot in your bed in no time. She is there in the forest. "
I run hesitantly over the frozen swamps, careful not to trip over the tufts of frozen vegetation. I'm happy to leave behind Stump Tower's madness, but I'm worried about what comes next. Soon I find a clearing. She is there. The Oracle, in its mossy glory, assisted by a handful of loyal otters who wear no clothes at all. 1Z0-148 Braindumps
"Oracle," I say. The tears are in my eyes. "You're good?"
"Yes," she says. "And I have good news and bad news this year, Stump Tower will fall, but peace will be delayed, because discord is in our hearts, not in our politics."
"If that's the bad news, the good news is that the Vikings win the Super Bowl, right?"
"That was the good news, I ... do not think I'll tell you about the bad news, you're not ready."
"The kicker?" I ask.
"The puncher," she says.
Aaron J. Brown is an author and community college instructor for the Mesabi Iron Range of northern Minnesota. Write the MinnesotaBrown blog and host the Great Northern Radio Show on Northern Community Radio (KAXE.org).
