SOMEWHERE IN CALIFORNIA, 1993
It was one of those cool, rainy nights I’d always found so perfectly conducive to getting a lot of complex, tedious work done, and so after bidding an early but very fond farewell to the lovely young actress from Fresno with whom I’d spent the evening, I slipped into my ’92 Benz (the charcoal one) and headed to the lab.
The winding, rainswept roads that led to Orchard B, a secluded facility located deep within the San Gabriel Mountains were treacherous and poorly-maintained, but I knew where all the potholes and dips were and swerved instinctively at the appropriate times. Art Bell was on the radio, talking to some guy about ancient lizard people, but I didn’t pay much attention.
Now, I’m not much of a writer, but what happened that night is a story worth telling–or at least worth writing down for the sake of…
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