In the space between the penguin and tundra--
a passive, convective type of cool--
much fun was absorbed by attempting to overheat.
No fans necessary (hence 'passive'),
no distractions from the ultimate goal(s).
Just pure fun with the sun.
A type of...migration began to occur.
A holy migration, because that's what people kept saying
"Holy 7#i$ holy 7#47".
During a particularly complicated launching procedure
brought about by fruits and fruition, thoughts+thinkation,
one person felt what it must be like to be truly alone
as she drove her blazing car into a ripe zone.
Conversely, imagine what it must be like to have to actually
change the way your own cells work, how they're organized,
how data flows through them, and in what topography.
So much so that the more sophisticated
or higher yielding coolants could be used directly
instead of through some sorts of electrical device.
You just drink the coolant straight up.
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