[a true account of a day inside the energy dispersion machine]


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Into the car. Accelerate onto the freeway. Burn those hydrocarbons. Running on empty. Take the long way home to stop at the cheap gas station. Blast over the lake, concrete floating on water, dripping oil, antifreeze, rubber. Crest the hill, there's downtown, the stadium, the Space Needle, steel giants glowing in the cool night air. Exit right.

At the corner of James and 12th is the Shell station. One block down at Jefferson is Arco. Whose gas is cheaper today? My debit card is expired, and cash is running low. So let's put it on plastic. Wait, Arco doesn't take credit. Cash only, baby. No prices on the glowing yellow Shell sign. That's odd. Pull into the station. The pumps are off. White sheets of paper taped to every pump read:

"Temporarily out of gas."