“ For the gods keep hidden from men the means of life. Else you would easily do work enough in a day to supply you for a full year even without working; soon would you put away your rudder over the smoke, and the fields worked by ox and sturdy mule would run to waste. But Zeus in the anger of his heart hid it, because Prometheus the crafty deceived him; therefore he planned sorrow and mischief against men. He hid fire; but that the noble son of Iapetus stole again for men from Zeus the counsellor in a hollow fennel-stalk, so that Zeus who delights in thunder did not see it. But afterwards Zeus who gathers the clouds said to him in anger: “Son of Iapetus, surpassing all in cunning, you are glad that you have outwitted me and stolen fire — a great plague to you yourself and to men that shall be. But I will give men as the price for fire an evil thing in which they may all be glad of heart while they embrace their own destruction.”
Works and Days ll. 42 — 59
VIRUS
You've seen this reel before. You know how it ends. But it gets better every time.
VIRUS feed.
VIRUS mobile.
VIRUS is a truck out on the four-way, a mile or more away.
But it's the light in your VIRUS that keeps me warm.
VIRUS has all the fresh flavor of just-brewed drip coffee. Your husband will say, Christ, Sally, I used to think your coffee was only so-so. But now, wow! Safe when taken as directed.
VIRUS is a machine for making choices.
VIRUS: the spring in your step.
VIRUS promises a soft manageability, and it delivers.
VIRUS is the end to that.
VIRUS is your quiet smile as you run into an old friend on the street.
VIRUS welcomes you with a firm handshake of carbon monoxide.
VIRUS.
VIRUS is a welcome cup of coffee on a hot morning.
VIRUS is a windswept vista through your polycarbonate riot shield.
VIRUS is the social.
VIRUS holds you in its long petro- chemical arms.
VIRUS reconfigures cities. For breakfast.
VIRUS.