Ftrain, by Paul Ford

The downward trend continues, continues. Back on the wagon/in the saddle/stirrups. Situps, pushups. Trying to make that the new ritual. Lateness, constant lateness. On the manuscript, the story, the email, the phone call, the code.The minute I see a new opportunity for progress I need to wedge myself into it. As I get smaller I can wedge more, but I'm often tired; I miss the days of coffee and naps, when I was in a more pronounced fog, at times. The new normal is weird sometimes.

Thirty-seven thousand bodies at labor under the auspices of Kennard Thompson & Assoc., Inc., Chief Engineers, itself under the auspices of the Port and Parks Authority and with support of a city, state, and federal government, all of it--the plan, the jobs, the political will--hatched from the fecund brain of a young and charismatic mayor with ambitions to governorhood. Twelve-hundred boats, barges, tankers, the largest and tiniest tugs, a decommissioned Turkish ferry that once piled the Bosphorus, sold for 1 lira to the people of New York City as a global gesture of goodwill. Boats from the Thames, from the Volga. A barge might spray, through a trailing mesh hose like an elephant's trunk, five thousand gallons of programmable colloidal hydrogel an hour.

Weight: 307.5 lbs