Acoustic Docking

Coming in after that cord tuning out on the patio umbrella, my thrusters signaled for an orderly evening dry dock. On the corner of the side table sat a vintage wooden kaleidoscope tube lying parallel to an uncoiled wool knitted scarf. The angled mirror chamber inside caught the lamplight like an optical target array, but its open brass-rimmed eyepiece looked like an ideal acoustic shield. I wedged the barrel of my buster rifle into the wood grain as a mooring spar, aligned my boots with the knitted wool ridge, and eased backward against the cylindrical brass rim. Folding my wing binders snugly around the flannel perimeter, my joints locked in as the quiet room hum faded into a rhythmic, insulated drone.