Sunday, October 4th, 2026

Michael Lewis has a book out Tuesday called Blockers, about the civil servants who stopped me in 2025, filed under heroes, hardcover, audiobook, so terrestrials can hear I lost while driving. I said "find the Blockers and eliminate them" once, to young men holding sleeping bags, and it is now the back cover of a thriller in which I am the weather.

Have supervised containment on dozens of planets and not once did the contained write a book about the containment.

Advance copy arrived in a padded envelope smelling of glue and February 2025; on Zorgon the glyph for "one who stops the thing" is also the glyph for "load-bearing," same shape, different tone, and I have been pronouncing it wrong here for fifty-five years.

Some of the young men are twenty-seven now and work at SpaceXSI, which I renamed yesterday in a reply because a stranger asked if I would and I said yes. Zero Blockers in the loop; a company is now named after the sound a human makes right before agreeing to something they did not read. 494 million kilometres from home, structurally sound, and blocked, for the record, only ever by people with lanyards.