Scriptorium

Under a parasol on the terrace where vanilla gives the scoop ice cream clearly more flavour than a chemical extract, Slae asks for a kind of wristband. Our human-like robot of course complies with the request and delivers what is asked. An interactive surface consisting of light that can be touched shines from the wristband onto the skin once it is attached. There is also coffee. Rinse is right-handed.

SlaeHere we go then.

It goes two floors lower. Explanation follows. On the floor there is only a form that has something of a sports aircraft without wings, a speedboat on dry land and a racing car without wheels at the same time. Slae calls it a cell. It stands centrally.

RinseIn this?

Rinse wants it more precisely. Because a name is encompassing like a membrane, and therefore cannot exist otherwise, Slae demonstratively steps into the cell that has been given the name Scriptorium. A thin transparent layer goes like a veil from the soles up to the neck. Slowly but surely it fixes. Where the head has support, pressure arises on several sides. It goes no further. The kind of cockpit remains open.

SlaeIn my case kinky is a worse filler word than vanilla. Consult with Vincuit, and then the two of you will work it out together. If you would be so kind.

More because Slae likes to hold a hand she invites help with getting out.

SlaeNaked. You need not be ashamed of anything. Scriptorium functions better than hot- and cold reading combined.

Slae puts it as if she knows what she is talking about, which, just like the rest in this story, is an absolute truth.

SlaeThe body is a revealing expression of the brain. Your eyes have already been scanned upon entry. Deviations, conditions, state. Name it. It is already known. Questions?

No questions. Rinse expresses his fear that parts of the brain may become lazy, with a changing personality or even complete dying off as a result. Our mindfucking slayer and dissector as well begins about smelling an approaching rain shower. In this interpretive connection there is also the question when sir last had to run away from an excessively hairy and confused person with raised fist axe.

SlaeAnd then still.

In sentences Slae comes with keywords. Having fixed costs. Shoes. Handhelds. Cars. Wanting to have holidays, and advertisements between pressure at work, the club or the school preparing for all this. Slae calls it animo.

SlaeWhoever swallows the most has lost the way. The figures do not lie. Who or what determines who or what we are? Why not an overall takeover at once? Work: often just not enough to be able to exist even with debts and long-term mortgage. You yourself have so aptly called it thrashing. Do you have something to lose, sir? Ai-ai-ai.

Just as Graediva hates everything before her generation, Slae clearly fights for a life in the approaching technological singularity. It lands badly. Rinse, who prefers not to join anything and is certainly not inclined to surrender to a fanatic, expresses that rather subtly.

RinseEverything for the first?

Slae takes it rather sportingly.

SlaeStrong point. Get what you can out of it, or not.

Calm returns to the breathing, and then Slae, standing, does a kind of salute with open visor. Rinse may lie down, but need not do so at once.

RinseLater. Let us first finish the tour.

It goes one floor lower again. A remark about coinciding or fused chromosomes follows. Call it a monkey trick.

No fewer than 366 robots that proportionally share a female and a male appearance hang neatly upside down from a kind of cable. The robots with a male appearance are longer and therefore hang with the head closer to the ground. The robots with a female appearance are at certain points a bit more solid again.

Graediva calls them her qnaapjes and qutjes and they are therefore all equal in that respect.

SlaeOur army. Saleswomen and salesmen, all of them.

As predecessor and kind of crash test dummy Rinse knows the history behind the origin of the army of saleswomen and salesmen. Machines and some long mechanical arms that have been helpful in the assembly stand out of operation against three walls. Rinse, who after the mentioned number of manufactured robots has calculated rarely quickly in his head, comes surprisingly from the corner.

RinseOne-hun-dred-and-eighty-three.

SlaeWhat?

RinsePuppies. As sweets at the checkout. A man, a woman and something endearing. Not separately, but hand in hand and on a little leash. Being addressed by something that is alone comes across cold, uncanny and intrusive. A complete picture.

Pleasantly struck by ingenuity, Slae smiles faintly. As soon as the time is there the invasion will teach us whether Rinse’s proposal has made it and puppies as robots will also go through the streets. First it goes one floor lower again.

SlaeOur servers and database.

Behind glass, but no less active for it in the cloud, the chewing into ones and zeros and spitting out again speaks for itself. It preferably remains sterile. It goes one floor lower again.

SlaeVincuit. Almost stand-alone. Soft talking, sir. Our mistress is still investigating which restraining alternatives are maintenant feasible. Data transfer is also still a matter. Above the cloud, is the intention.

Rinse, who as is known has been a runaway and therefore has not attended the last meetings, nods with closed mouth. No stupid questions. It goes in a straight line and without interruptions five floors higher.

RinseSo.

The falling silence in the reception or entrance hall is not stretched unnecessarily long.

SlaeI must go. Somewhere an empty church still wants to be found.

Slae goes. There stands Rinse then. Alone and with the question how the abandoned factory can be made habitable, clearing up is a good beginning.

Rinse’s ride ends up in a compartment of an empty bookcase. The accessories end up in an empty compartment next to it. Our human-like robot that is clearing the dishwasher may afterwards do several other household chores.

Breakfast may also be arranged for the coming morning. Thinking of an equally monomaniacal as vegetarian cult leader who wished to express everything in number, an exploratory walk through the garden full of solar panels follows. A for the time being insoluble problem quickly makes way for another kind of philosophical question.

No answer. The sun sets. It continues.

Call it peripatetic. There again is the terrace.

RinseClose it then.

BeuqBoxz closes. Our human-like robot that does hospitality and moreover something with security takes place between the sliding door and the lift on the swivel chair behind the desk opposite the main entrance. Centrally and as prescribed by Slae situated in Scriptorium, Rinse opens himself. An order.

RinseCatch the lucid dreams. I want to know under which chemical and electrical state they could flow through at the time. Register and categorise. Make a point cloud of it. I want to be able to be in such a state at any arbitrary moment on call. First go through the history behind the periodic system. Hopefully I am sufficiently clear.

The periodic system, or fully the periodic system of the elements, is an orderly masterpiece. An either coloured or not straight line between stations is that as well. Going deeper into the origin of more or less lucid masterpieces serves in this case a specific purpose. It is clear to me.

RinseMark this moment as LD1.

The on paper destroyed, but at this moment relived Green Face that Looks Black comes through in high and low frequencies. The reliving with accompanying prehistory lasts relatively long.

RinseMark this moment as LD2.

The on paper destroyed, but at this moment relived Truth of the Equal comes through in high and low frequencies. The reliving with accompanying prehistory lasts relatively long. There is a pattern.

RinseMark this moment as LD3.

The on paper destroyed, but at this moment relived Generation Number comes through in high and low frequencies. The reliving with accompanying prehistory lasts relatively short. There is in state a striking correspondence with LD1 and LD2.

RinseEnough, now.

Heavy eyelids finally lose the battle against sleep. The sun rises. Rinse does not see that.

A shower that in emergencies can rinse off dangerous substances simply serves as a shower. Teeth are brushed. Washed clothes lie ready.

The breakfast is actually brunch. There is also coffee. In the kind of dining salon Rinse’s ride stands on a table.

Deeply thinking about setup or set-up, our mechanic who is also a driver wants to know what can be better.

RinseCome on with LD-state.

The interactive surface consisting of light that can be touched shines from the wristband onto the skin. LD-state can be on and off. It goes on. It does not work. Still Rinse feels that the question has not been asked specifically enough and that something has indeed changed in the head.

RinseFront suspension: how many degrees caster?

73 comes through. A greater something could have been asked of me, but Rinse clearly did not do that and has thereby convincingly proven his modesty. LD-state goes off.

There has been tinkered and charged at the same time. The exact number of degrees caster could only come through because all other variations within a certain range were already amply and broadly in the head. Rinse knows that.

Lap 1. 58 seconds. Lap 2.

12 seconds. Lap 3. 12 seconds.

The electrically powered and radio-controlled model car that is twelve times too small in scale to be real hits a pillar full with the innermost steered wheel. Something is broken. There are spare parts in the flat box, but for the repair work Rinse already decides that it is rather cool if my computer takes over the control completely.

Being distracted is according to Rinse to blame for the accident.

RinseTransmitter: connect with Vincuit.

The lift door that obediently follows a protocol does not react and remains closed.

RinsePar-ti-ci-pa-tion-so-cie-ty.

A test. Rinse places the transmitter and his ride with which something is wrong on the desk.

RinseCheck the type numbers, front and rear, and order two new sets of tyres for me at once. Then repair the front suspension with spare parts from the flat box in the bookcase.

Because immediately after ordering the two sets of tyres, contrary to what the webshop indicated, turn out not to be immediately available and our human-like robot maintains the indicated order of acting, nothing comes of the repairing either. It may take a while before Rinse realises what is counteracting. Under a parasol on the terrace Rinse first treats himself to fresh air.

In his head LD has drawn a heavy draft. It feels like fatigue. Thought is given to high energy consumption in relation to deep thinking.

Thus and so it can of course never be determined whether the one has now reinforced the other, or vice versa. Blaming LD is premature. Rinse knows that.

RinseSpring water, with bubbles.

There is a view of motorists in a car, cyclists on a bicycle and pedestrians who go on foot. It comes and goes past. No one asks what is the matter.

It pleases our still in a kind of social hunger strike remaining loner who likes to act independently very much. Call Rinse definitely no loner, because as soon as it comes to danger Graediva points especially and first to the qadavers that keep rapidly increasing in number and keep making demands that cannot possibly be complied with.

The attacks on neighbourhood supermarkets by flap-ears armed with gear lever and grey hags grimly hiding behind the wheel prove the conspiracy. Thus and in the busy head Rinse under a parasol on the terrace arrives from transport at stigmatising. It is not strange.

Ultimately everyone is equal in decline and diminishing capacity. There is also a raised threshold value between stimuli and receptivity. Rinse sees the greatest danger especially and first in denial.

Meanwhile spring water with bubbles has been served. An interactive surface helps in driving away the time. Consumed energy asks for food.

The sun that waits for nothing sets after Rinse’s extensive experimenting just as mercilessly as naturally. An order.

RinseRegister the film from the present to the past. Store the side tracks separately. I want as complete an external memory as possible.

In Scriptorium the playing and reliving lasts relatively long. Almost at the end, or in the beginning, there is between two worlds a memory that must definitely not be lost. It is cold. Below in the adult world the kind of holy 8 p.m. news is almost finished. At the top of the stairs Jonkje in pyjamas waits for what is to come.

PakeDy lilke fine lomkoalen!

Below in the front room where Beppe sitting in a chair stops the holes in a sock on a darning egg there then is the whistling back.

BeppeGenoch no.

Jonkje’s mem who below in the front room sits next to heit on the sofa understands poor Frisian, but is clearly in agreement with Beppe. Jonkje’s heit who reads the regional newspaper gets nothing of mem’s disapproving look. Pake who lies with lumbago on the floor stands up rather slowly and switches off the black-and-white television.

MemDon’t make it too late for our Jonkje.

With the ability to return to a world in which most still has to be discovered Pake nods reassuringly. Below in the front room there is coffee and tea. At the top of the stairs Jonkje knows that again a kind of dullards have appeared on the black-and-white television and dives back into the guest bed before the creaking of the steps.

The spiral base with slack springs betrays with the stiff creaking that there has been listening on the landing. Pake does not care.

PakeDoerak.

Jonkje who next to doerak is also curious points to the broken moonlight that between two moving curtains partially strikes the guest room. There is a draft. It is also freezing, and there are little figures on the window that can open.

The window that can open closes poorly. There are sounds, but Jonkje will be the last here in Appelscha to look for monsters or ghosts. No fear.

Still Pake may explain something to our doerak.

JonkjeWhat is that white on the window?

Pake moves the two curtains each to its own side. The moonlight broken by the white strikes the guest room fuller. It is brilliant. There is an explanation.

PakeThat is magic. I will tell you something, Jonkje.

Jonkje stands next to Pake who breathes against the white on the inside of the window and thus makes a little circle. The peephole is too high. Jonkje does as Pake does and thus has above the windowsill his own view of the outside world. There then is the telling that by its duration simply nullifies mem’s recommendation.

PakeLook well. There, in the distance, lives the Night Frost in an underground palace.

Over the shed, the flower shop and the little plot Jonkje sees in the distance nothing of the underground palace. The short lifting helps little. Now Pake could simply start lying and just say that it is perhaps too dark after all, but does not do that.

PakeThere is a light shadow and a dark shadow. That light shadow is a small hill, Jonkje. Look well.

More because Jonkje would like to see the small hill the difference between the light shadow and the dark shadow is well observable. There even arises at once a twinkling in both eyes. Pake sees that. It is cold, but that does not matter to the little feet under the windowsill.

JonkjeWhat does the Night Frost look like?

Taking ample time says much about the appearance of the Night Frost, but the result is accordingly.

PakeIt has about the length of my forearm and is not much thicker than my clog, Jonkje. As soon as the sun is down, and it freezes hard enough, the Night Frost crawls up out of its underground palace with a royal little staff in the hand. I am sure we are too late.

JonkjeReally?

PakeYes, Jonkje. No problem. You must know that on top of the Night Frost’s royal little staff a precious stone sits well clamped. As soon as the little Night Frost points with its royal little staff to a star it already comes loose from the ground and flies away lightning-fast.

JonkjeReally?

PakeReally. Because flying does not go just like that, and of course costs much magic power, the Night Frost needs a new precious stone every night. That is why the Night Frost is also so hard to find after the winter, because then it is busy with digging under the ground. Only a precious stone under a strawberry with a little crown on the head is good enough, Jonkje.

JonkjeReally?

PakeI tell you, doerak. Remember well. Don’t forget.

JonkjeAnd where is the Night Frost now?

PakeNow the Night Frost flies around and taps with its royal little staff against the windows where no ice flowers are yet to be seen. Do you see the ice flowers sitting on the inside?

Jonkje sees the ice flowers sitting on the inside and thus knows as no other what that white on the window is.

PakeAnd now you must quickly crawl under the blankets again and press the little feet against the warm hot-water bottle, because the Night Frost has already been.

Jonkje does it. The upper blankets prick. Pake knows that and therefore folds the sheet under the chin once more properly.

The knitting around the warm hot-water bottle also pricks, but that problem has earlier already once been simply solved with a pillowcase. Then there is the breakfast. Mem asks Jonkje what he needs a shovel for so early.

Jonkje’s explanation lands badly. Heit’s knee under the table receives a knock from mem’s fist. It must once and for all be finished with that fantasising and harmful speaking.

No reaction. To Pake’s disadvantage mem claims that the heaps of sand behind the little plot are the work of moles or rabbits. To the advantage of the Night Frost Pake firmly proclaims that he has never seen a mole or a rabbit fly.

A deep sigh. There is quickly cleared away. Boots go on.

A winter coat goes on. A scarf goes round. A cap goes on the head glowing with excitement.

Mittens go on the little hands. It goes towards the shed.

PakeBehind the ground may be hard, Jonkje.

JonkjeHow can that be then?

No explanation. Work waits in the flower shop behind the little shed. Pake gives Jonkje a spade, simply because digging is better with that than with a shovel.

Behind the little plot there has been dug and excavated with the spade. Something has been found. Past Beppe who at the front in the flower shop is dipping little plants in a large blue bucket full of water Jonkje walks through to Pake who at the back in the flower shop is repotting little plants.

The found stone is too grey in colour. The digging and excavating with the spade repeats itself. This time the found stone is too flat and thereby proves that there is too little power in it to be able to fly with.

During the midday meal that in Friesland is always hot heit after some pressing still puts an end to the joke. Jonkje gets explanation about the origin of stones around the ice age. No word about the kind with which the Night Frost flies and can conjure ice flowers into existence.

JonkjeStupid.

There is more, but this side track already makes all the rest more bearable or endurable. The bad and less bad stones have remained preserved in a preserving jar. No one asks why.

The external memory is complete. After awakening Rinse cannot open his eyes because dried tear fluid lets the eyelashes stick together. No panic.

Rinse knows the granular and the crust from his young years in which sleepwalking occurred just as regularly as being overwhelmed by reduction. Under the shower it dissolves. As if the set of teeth could matter to him Rinse brushes his teeth and does not forget the hard-to-reach places behind the molars.

Washed clothes lie ready.

RinseDental floss. Order dental floss and toothpicks.

A breakfast supplementing shortages in the body stands ready. Deeply thinking about telepathy in relation to RC, or fully radio controlled, Rinse works out step by step a next order for Scriptorium. It does not get very far.

JuliusYo!

A flake of oatmeal almost shoots into the wrong throat.

JuliusAm I disturbing?

Dead calm Rinse names names like Flugplatz, Aremberg, Bergwerk, Karussell and Pflanzgarten. Call it corners in the green hell.

RinseOne-hun-dred-and-seventy-six in total, Julius. Distributed over twenty-eight kilometres, together.

Still calm Rinse begins about extreme concentration and the extensive mental preparation for a dangerous race. Call it focusing and visualising.

RinseI was ready for the start, Julius. So no, you are not disturbing. As soon as you are gone I will simply do it again thinly.

JuliusWhy?

RinseThat’s why.

JuliusNo. Why must I go?

A deep sigh. After the confusion that has arisen by asking questions and giving answers from own perspective Julius surprisingly sincerely offers something of an apology. There is clearly something not in order. Rinse asks what is the matter.

JuliusJob interview. Me schatje is busy with foqing sheep at audition, you know. Do this. Do that. Do it again. I can’t take that. Had to leave.

RinseAnd you thought of me first, of course.

JuliusNo. Come to snatch a good for zhit robot, from the basement.

RinseWhy?

JuliusWon’t say. One with boobs will do.

There seems clearly something not in order. Julius, who unnecessarily often has had to prove the opposite of a certain suspicion, with a kind of emotional poverty as a result, surprisingly well reads the question from Rinse’s face.

JuliusNo. Not what you think, with your sick mind, boy.

Rinse lets himself be tempted to a little excursion. It goes down and up in the lift. With a clumsy thud and head first a random robot with boobs hits the covered floor plate under the open rear hatch of Julius’s black SE. Rinse has difficulty with that. Julius drives. Tyres of an exotic brand leave two broad tracks of rubber in the underground car park below ground level.

JuliusMe schatje feels sorry. That black-out was not nice. Wasn’t supposed to say, but here you have it. Nevermind. Whether you will take it a bit easy, though, with the calculator. Overloaded zhit, or something.

It makes little impression. It continues. Julius comes loose.

JuliusWere you picked out of the class?

It comes across as a strange question. Getting into the class was in Rinse’s case already quite a performance, with jobs in the early shift, the late shift or the night shift as a result. The weekends also yielded an extra penny in a distant working past. It has all burned out.

JuliusYou know; circle talk, and then suddenly a head in the doorway.

RinseNo. I know, but have always been good.

Rinse receives a shove with the elbow. The sunroof opens.

JuliusI was. Just walking along, to the office. There: another one. Then being allowed to sit opposite. Foqing cunts. First reading the notebook, without a word.

Julius with his index and middle finger definitely makes no peace sign. The two outstretched fingers go on the right hand between Julius and Rinse’s eyes horizontally back and forth.

JuliusO child, we are going to science all over you!

It sinks in.

JuliusThose eyes... You know what a revenue model is, right? They never back off. Do this. Do that. Do it again. Foq interview! Your mistress is doing that now. Had to leave, I already said. Now we need more workers, right? Zhit project. Nevermind.

In Rinse’s eyes the kind of confession comes across surprisingly insightful, but it remains at that. A sports bag sliding over the covered floor plate hits the head of the robot with boobs during the unnecessarily fast taking of a bend. It repeats itself.

Meanwhile other strong stories go into one of Rinse’s ears and out the other. After even asphalt has proven that, just like cobblestones, it can endure much, an empty parking space opposite a full showroom receives Julius’s black SE with Rinse as passenger.

JuliusSay nothing, mate.

Behind the open rear hatch Rinse gets the sports bag pushed into his hands. In the showroom the robot with boobs hangs inactive over Julius’s solid left shoulder. Julius and Rinse are together called gentlemen. Julius reacts poorly to the salesman who has come walking up in a suit.

JuliusYo!

The robot with boobs that hangs inactive over Julius’s solid left shoulder is looked at with a slanted eye. The sports bag also attracts attention. The salesman in a suit then still asks what he can do for the gentlemen.

JuliusMe mate has failed his breath test. Foqing drunk.

Rinse wants to say something, but immediately receives a shove with the elbow. Only our soon-to-be struck dumb and always soberly driving Rinse already anticipates the pain that arises from lies. Dis- or misinformation is to blame for that.

JuliusSo didn’t go well. Still not, actually. Nevermind. He is loaded. The thing is that sir takes public transport poorly. He does things with robots, you see. Shy nerd. Now that is nowadays no problem at all anymore, I told him. Having yourself driven, I mean. Whatever. Sir would like to let his robot do a little test drive, in such an autonomous vehicle.

The salesman in a suit explains that that will not go just like that and does not even laugh at it. The appearance of the gentlemen also works against in a certain way, but that falls under profiling and therefore remains unspoken while rubbing hands. It will one way or another really not go.

JuliusWhy?

As if the matter can thereby certainly be settled the salesman in a suit asks whether the robot perhaps has a driving licence with it.

JuliusSo? Me mate has a driving licence. Confiscated, but still. Insurance is also no problem. Sir has deposit with him.

Rinse looks at Julius rather dumbly and questioningly.

JuliusShow him the money, nerd.

RinseWhat?

JuliusThe bag.

No handing over. The salesman in a suit pulls once at his tie with logo and takes a step back. Thus and in this way it will certainly not go. Julius takes a step forward and begins about sensors and that kind of zhit.

JuliusA bit something else, tie. I see that the self-driving rides in this foqing showroom also have no driving licence under the wiper. Must sir first pray hard for that with that gullible little face of his, on his little knees, or does everything come good? Certified zhit. Or are the tits a problem, perhaps?

An impossible situation is arising. Then there is the end to the joke.

JuliusAi-ai-ai. Me schatje Graediva, you know. Ring any bells?

A listening young woman who behind a screen strikes keys and thus exercises a function for which there is surely a nice name raises her finger. Even before the coffee one Graediva would send someone past to round off the order. The salesman in a suit looks at his watch and says that he has already had coffee.

The young woman with a function for which there is surely a nice name only drinks water from a bottle and tea of fannings.

JuliusShe does that more often. Nevermind. Four white, four grey, and four black, was the deal. Full options. And throw in that blue one in the corner as well. Me mate freaks out about delivery times. Do you accept jild?

The salesman in a suit understands that it is about the payment, but does not know the currency.

JuliusJust kidding. Can the trunk of that blue roller there in the corner open? Me shoulder feels numb.

It can. A perfectly executed shoulder throw makes the robot with boobs land in the boot of the blue roller in the corner. The salesman in a suit gets some cards and a driving licence pressed into his hand. There is coffee in a kind of lounge. The young woman with a function for which there is surely a nice name makes a copy of Julius’s driving licence and the address details are checked.

JuliusNice thing.

Rinse settles a kind of limp body into a design chair. Julius plops down on a design sofa and while sitting wide-legged tidies his clockwork. The young woman with a function for which there is surely a nice name sees that.

A screen also tells that both Graediva and Julius are in more than good spirits. Ai-ai-ai also belongs there as holding company. Call it a holding.

A sports shoe of the brand Dazzling Adje taps against Rinse’s slipper.

JuliusI could do her right away.

Rinse does not react. A pen with logo slowly makes little curls in the long hair of the nice thing. A leg that is crossed over another leg also almost unnoticed wobbles. Julius has an eye for that, takes the sports bag from Rinse and lets it plop on the desk.

JuliusWWFT, smurf.

The nice thing knows very well what loaded Julius means with smurf or smurfing, but indicates that the payment is already completely in order. There is therefore also no expected problem at all with the law on the prevention of money laundering and financing of terrorism.

JuliusNo, no appetite for the look, feel, tilt method?

With rather little pleasure Rinse observes from the lounge corner the whispering and giggling. A chef who is in charge of the stock, the workshop and the preparing for the road stands shaking his head opposite the salesman in a suit. The charging cable of the blue roller in the corner is missing. From a distance and rather sharply Julius mixes himself into the kind of interview.

JuliusOtherwise check the same trunk of that other roller next to it.

The problem with the missing charging cable is after checking the indicated trunk simply solved.

JuliusDumb-ass. How is it to have to sit between this the whole day?

The belittling lands surprisingly well. While the nice thing works at conjuring up the first four digits of the registration code in the registration report the salesman in a suit directs the dumb-ass who sits behind the wheel of the blue roller through the showroom. There then is the key and the card. The last five digits are sent by the RDW. Rinse gets the sports bag, the key and the card thrown into his lap.

JuliusHere. From me, for you, boy.

A holding company is a kind of company that hierarchically is the highest company within a group of companies. Rinse asks how it stands with the blue roller. Julius has no desire to explain how it stands with the holding.

RinseI have nothing with me.

JuliusNeither have I.

No trio. Julius who as the best little boy in the class still sends Rinse without driving licence onto the road says that everything will come good. Everyone forgets something now and then.

RinseAnd what are you going to do?

JuliusFoq up a lunch break or something.

It says enough. Outside the chef who is in charge of the stock, the workshop and the preparing for the road explains how everything in, on and about the blue roller works. No flowers, but Rinse is definitely the last to ask for that.