Improvements

Snow. It is white as the tufts that sprawl across the great expanse of my brother's underside out there today. The sun is abnormally bright, illuminating the cold, crunch-dusted ground with a refulgence worthy of Armageddon's own flash-bang. In short, it is no kind of day for a black master of shadows to be out and about.

Today, then, I conduct a thorough inspection of the fortress. After all, the last two weeks have seen a lot of traffic coming through — not one, but two Gran-hamas, both of whom set up camp in my bunker. The glitter-tree and its traditional festoonery have come and gone, the Indulgent Festival of Paper now fully concluded.

It is, I am pleased to report, a little easier to get around in here now: more floor space, considerably less clutter, severe reduction in traffic going up and down the bunker's eggressional stairpoint. Come to think of it, it's actually a little too easy to get around. The clutter-reduction process has proved exceedingly effective, and there's something... empty about the place.

My first concern is that this portends another large-scale move — one of those massive “bug-out” redeployments that the Man seems to execute every year or so. Always a time of tremendous chaos and great misery. New locations to scout, new positions to fortify, new neighborhoods to conquer and subjugate. Every time, it's like starting from scratch, and I'm getting too old for that crap.

But perhaps not. Consider:

1. There has been a marked drop in relocations of this kind ever since the Woman took command.
2. Historically, full-scale redeployments have been, without exception, preceded by a tremendous increase in clutter — boxes and crates and the like — and never by a wholesale reduction in inventory such as we have here.
3. As yet there has been no sign of the much-feared miniature coffins into which Fabio and I are unceremoniously stuffed prior to transport — either to a new location, or for a trip to the nefarious Dr. Fingerer.
4. The Man and the Woman seem... how shall I put this? Happy. Pleased with themselves, even. This is not a mental state that accompanies times of great confusion and upheaval.

So. I sharpen my investigation, and I hit upon a crucial fact: with the exception of the removal of the Shmooltide festoonery, this emptying of space has not been fortress-wide. It has, in fact, been highly localized. The Man has been systematically emptying the main sleep chamber. Boxes and shelves and whole piles of bric-a-brac have been hauled away — even the Big Luminous Box and the chambered altar from which it lorded over the room have been cast out.

Half of the sleep chamber has now been effectively cleared, giving the whole South Wing of the fortress something of a lopsided, uneven feel. The only possible explanation is that the Man has been clearing the way for something. New equipment? Is it too much to hope that he will finally be installing a state-of-the-art Listening Station and Defensive Command Center, complete with RADAR and AWACS (Rodent And Dog Aggressor Repulsion and Advanced Warning Anti-Crow System)? He never seemed to comprehend those schematics I drew up so many years ago — perhaps he finally gave that low-watt light bulb he calls an intellect the last half-twist it needed to complete the circuit.

Then again, there is another factor to consider. It seems like very long odds, but then I've learned not to invest much trust in coincidence. The Woman, it seems, has been... well, ballooning, to put it bluntly. Bulging, inflating, growing abdominally rotund. She doesn't seem concerned about this — on the contrary, as I pointed out, she seems rather pleased. So now I have to wonder: is the Man clearing space simply to accommodate the Woman's dimensions? And if so, for crying out loud, just how big is she going to get?

No, it simply cannot be. If the Woman were expected to grow into proportions that would fill the great empty space of the sleep chamber, why, that would be nothing short of ludicrous. Even Fabio would be put to shame. No, it has to be the Command Center. In fact, I'd better doublecheck my schematics and make sure they include Fenceline Squirrel Inhibitors. Because those cheeky bastards have become particularly impudent this year.