"War Clock Ticking"
by GX Jupitter-Larsen

 He was on the subway heading downtown, watching updates from the war on his little handheld TV set.

The news made no mention of how their once disputed leader had used this conflict to legitimize his highly questionable mandate. The news made no mention of many things.

As it was every day, the train was crowded with the usuals, not to mention noisy with cracklers, roarers, bubblers, thunderers, and bursters. Then, in all the noise, from the corner of his eye, he noticed this stranger.

A stranger who didn't fit in with the surroundings. Someone dirty and bloodied, but not like he was homeless. He was just standing there shell-shocked, like some unknown civilian casualty teleported from the war zone by some secret weapon.

No one else on the train seemed to be aware of this person. It was like he wasn't even there. Was this stranger actually there? Was it all a delusion from stress? Had he finally gone completely schizoid?

What would a number look like if it was between 1 and 4, but not 2 and 3? Just what is the psychical weight of sound?

The answer was to surf on the entropy, and trying not to fall in head first.