Happy New Year

It had been impossible to get a cab.

He thought of the milling idiots drunk on alcohol and the absurd hope that this year would be better—because it was the "new millennium" (as if the fact that the number of the anniversary of an inaccurately determined birth year was divisible by one thousand were significant… as if this even were a new millennium). They'd all wake to the same headaches, and the same dull reality.

And they'd made him late—thereby ruining an experiment that he'd been running for three months.

He sighed as the needle penetrated his skin.