psycho

 push the card through the slot, a slow swipe, the gate beeps, and the turnstile is released. The ground is covered in soggy snow, it is half past one in the afternoon, and the first thing is to try and take a seasonal picture of one of the glass balls attached to the Christmas tree that is perched on a stone pedestal. It is a large tree, but it is dwarfed by the reactor,  and the flagpoles, and the streetlights. It is silly and tricky to take a pretty postcard picture.

It is grey, the sky is loaded with snow.

At two o'clock two scientists arrive, punctual. This is an appointment, the two of them have won a prize for their work, and the press people want a picture of the two of them on the top of a building with a good view of the reactor in the background. It is snowing, too.

At least the light is soft, no hard horrible sun shadows.

The arrangements with the owners of the building have been made. So walk on up to the towering building, all five stories of it. It is the highest building in the area, apart from the weather measuring tower.

The lift does now work. Of course, a tight space for the virus!

The roof is open, it provides a clear wintry view of the reactor. What more could they want?

Everything.

So neither of them will laugh or smile,

It is icy and cold, and wet too.

Tell them to imagine-

They do, tell them to forget the old photographer behind the camera and think of the Bahamas.

Supposedly that must have been funny

it worked