This was due to the very logical reason that a bomb had gone off in my apartment. I was under the massive overstuffed leather chair I bought back when I was a high-paid consultant - all six months of that. Not a single thing was upright. Picture frames cracked, TV dead, technology... what technology? All that remained was a blasted crater with bits of powdered silicon, and half an office chair.
I dragged my least-destroyed overcoat out of the remains of the closet, found I was wearing my shoes, armed with my wallet and cell phone (military surplus and designed to withstand these damn things), and got myself out of there...
Down to west campus - time to recoup and grab a bite to eat. God knows I could use it, bomb and all that. I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of an arcade window - backlit by a thousand points of simulated carnage-describing light. Oh yeah, I was a mess.
Good. A bagel, something cold and caffinated, and a place to sit. That's what I need now. A chance to work out what the heck just happened.
And where the hell are my socks.