 
        from FUGUE FOR AN OCTOBER AGE                        THE STEELERS 7
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        is  falling  apart, the whole technological thing, and that this has
        the shit so scared out of us that we're in a  state  of  panic.  But
        it's crazy to panic, he says; the thing to do is to sort of go along
        with  it.  Not  surrender  to it, understand, adapt to it, live with
        it, accept it for what it is.  But you've got to  be  your  own  man
        first; you can't listen to every asshole who yells in your ear."
             The  wind  has come up and is whipping the sleet into our faces.
        I pull my poncho down over my forehead and rumple it  away  from  my
        body to protect myself from the chill.   The game drags on; there is
        an exchange of touchtowns and conversions.  We remain ahead, but now
        that  Houston  is  on the board, the lead seems more precarious than
        ever.  The score at the half is ten to seven.
             "One of these days," he says, "I'm going to quit my job at West-
        inghouse.   Maybe if I can get a little independent, like Ron or you,
        things will seem a little different.  I mean, maybe I  won't  be  so
        pissed at everything.  What do you think?"
             "I don't know.  What would you do?"
             "Well, I  could  go  in with Ron.  Or I could start my own busi-
        ness.  Maybe I could invent something."
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