On the day:
12/09/2012
On the way:
Jag in Space - Rule of Evidence, that's what he's reading today. Last time it was Judge Dredd.
Not that he's abandoned Mega-City One and all that it stands for. It would take much more than some square-jawed Kiwi to destroy all that Dredd has stood for over the years - a culture of ultraviolence, a fascist police state and THE LAW.
He's a big guy - not huge, not fat, but big. At least he looks it in Doc Martens, waterproof black trousers - the partner of the waterproof black top over his knees - and a black fleece, sleeves pushed up to the elbows. A severe haircut is growing out salt and pepper and his beard is little more than stubble.
On his lap is a backpack large enough to carry the necessary hardware to give him a fighting chance against the first wave of an invasion of mutie scum from the Cursed Earth, or a riot by urban creeps, or a zombie outbreak.
Or perhaps it contains essential survival gear in case of a mutually assured destructive nuclear strike - the water purifier, the compass, the crossbow, the ultimate-factor sun cream, the UV-reflective shades (aviator-style of course, already in place perched on the bridge of his pointed nose, with peripheral light excluder accessories in a side pocket of the bag) and a triple-pack of chocolate Hobnobs (two packs for £1.70 on special at Morrisons).
Or maybe the whole of Jack Campbell's The Lost Fleet series. For when he's finished the Jag in Space. Just in case the train gets swallowed up by a temporal vortex and we're stuck between stations for (what seems like an) eternity. Again.
On the pod:
Pseudo Silk Kimono - Marillion
On the front page:
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