When the On Patrol test presses hit the turntables, an epilogueburst from the side of the Sun Araw cranium immediately,before it was even cold on wax. The camerajumped all by itself, spontaneous framing and new perspectives: Last Chants grips you in heavy, end-of-shift panic;who knew Holodeck Blues got so rowdy? Surroundedand staring down the barrels of some serious forces, thescum is rising. No worries: you got backup, don t forgetwho s wearing the badge. Flip the vision and make it allthe way down, it s your party. Midnight Locker is onechilled exhalation, all cold sweat and steam vents. The cabride home comes with AM radio ghosts, whispering againof that heavier zone, it s time to get back. The flip side ispure secret sun-day, sacred rest: the stairway to the stars. Deep Temple, float on up, the Heavy Deeds are waiting. Aristocrat P. Child