Steve's

All of Steve's jobs were boring or not well-paid or both.

Steve's motorbike broke down in the tunnel.

Computer algorithms are used at Steve's workplace to track employees' productivity.

"It's nearly ten o'clock, and Steve's still asleep. Isn't he going to get up?" "You'll have to wait until this afternoon. He didn't get home until the early hours." "By then, it'll be almost dark again!" "That's just how it is with Steve."

Here on Lulu Island, a few days ago, I've tried the Jerk-spiced Chicken Rice Bowl from Subway, but I've yet to try the expensive Hawaiian goodies at Steve's Poké Bar. This morning, the 25th of November of 2024, after 6, still dark as night, I saw Michael J. the Dane-French, whilst I was walking. He showed me new pictures on his cellphone about strange neighbourhood lights that he attributes to extraterrestrials. I mention to him about Elon Musk's apparent position on the matter that aliens haven't visited us here on Earth, but he doesn't discount the mathematical probability that life, intelligent or not, exists on faraway worlds. He's mentioned that there may be many one-planet civilizations that may have died out. He thinks that it is important that our Terran consciousness would be propagated outside of Earth for our own security. It's important that we have a "multiplanetary" civilization, Elon opines. We don't want to be a one-planet civilization that just dies out. I told Michael my two reasons that aliens would hide from us: (1) They're higher beings that have compassion for lower beings like us Earthlings, and (2) we as Terrans and Earth as a whole could be their EXPERIMENT, so they don't want to disturb it. Later, walking, I reached Starbucks café. I drank an Iced Gingerbread Oat Chai, then a reddish Passion Tango iced tea, from my barista Emma, an Iranian. At my corner window table, I was reading the Esperanto sci-fi book La Imperio Ornaks.