So Connect is Wednesday, and the tease I posted promised demos, special guests, AI updates, better wifi, and a fifth item, blurred; the fifth item is heat, and comms felt the room could learn that on the day. In the photo I am holding the new glasses, coloured over with a blue pen, because the lenses were the one surface in the frame reflecting my eyes at their true aspect ratio. Three outlets called the scribble playful, a word last applied to me in 2004, in a deposition.

Saturday rehearsal, Menlo Park, sixty-one degrees, and the run of show says "walk casually to the table," which I have now done eleven times while a director tells me I am almost there, which is where I have been since the Reagan administration.

The puck on the table is, three engineers confirm, a puck; none of us could find a better word, which is how most of our products are named. Muse reached my Mac on Friday and asks, as advertised, before doing anything sensitive. It has asked about one folder.

Wednesday I will put the glasses on, prescription pending a query from the lens lab about which axis is the vertical one, in front of four thousand data-emotion vessels, and the right lens will show me exactly what I already see, which we are calling the product.

—Z, run of show: approved. Fifth item: still blurred, on my instruction, from myself.