Tune

A schoolboy walks past, looking in fascination as the chaiwallah expertly raises one cup seemingly miles above his head and the milk falls in a column, rapidly narrowing towards the bottom until it seems to him that there is just one point to which every drop of milk converges. Just before ‘splash!’, a collision. Little drops fly about, hit the walls of the cup, and even as they slide down, the lower cup is raised and the upper cup brought down.

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Phantom and N2 go to Saidapet??

And so on a Word editor beneath the title in caps, Alpha began to type away. He simply let it flow. Electrical impulses, or close approximations anyway, flowed out from the tips of his fingertips magically conjuring letters and words on the monitor, producing writing so enormously skewed and distorted in its logical bases that it took the madness out of the man and planted it squatly on a virtual A4 sheet, a virus quarantined,..