Parts XV and XVI

     That was the last anyone heard from Jarvis, at least from Earth.  The FBI indeed took interest with the equipment, condemning the building under the bridge in the process, and evicting the residents.  Pushed out like ants after their hill had been kicked over.
      "He'n n'arn't dang'rous," Angus whispered to himself.  "As sure I'n know I'm Angus Jef'son, I'n know he'n n'arn't dang'rous."  He watched silently from his balcony the last couple weeks of July as sedans and vans with tinted windows smelling of bureaucracy lined the curb.  Harry would come out and take a look every now and then sweeping the sidewalk.  Most people walked by trying to look inconspicuous but also trying to get that one little tidbit of gossip.  "I knew he was a druggie/rapist/serial killer from the moment I saw him."  Boxes were loaded over the course of a few days and presumably everything was hauled "in" for analysis.  The end of July brought news reports of possible espionage or terrorist dealings and Jarvis became a wanted man.  He was no longer the viral hit, late night comedic punchline, or local story interest that had sparked a small breath into SW 17th St.  He was an outcast, denied and forgotten, again.

XVI.

    August brought the heat and it became the conversation of the day.  Angus only sat outside for breakfast and was back inside dozing off to the TV long before noon.  The A/C rumbled and clanked trying to keep up with the heat seemingly on its last leg every time its thermostat warranted a break.  Between episodes of daytime fluff and melodramatic bullshit, Angus would stir enough to catch the WPHL news breaks.  
    The rising number of heat related casualties and deaths among the elderly.  "Naw wom'n, I'n jess fine.  'Ere ain't no reason why I'n oughta be inna geezer house, not a'tall.  I'n take care a Angus jess fine.  Those folk?  'Ere the ones needin help.  
    NASA's new mission for the Hubble telescope.  "'Ey'n ain't gonna find nothin Emma.  How long 'ey'n take to fin' bin Laddy?  'Ey'n cain't fin'nat booky boy down'na street!  'N here we go, lookin' up Spock's a*****e fa' mar'shins.  A shame, it'tis..."
    A look at the weather for the rest of the day and local sports scores.  "Naw, 'ey'n n'arn't said a word about 'im.  He'n gone, jess poof inta nothin like Houdinni.  Nawt sure we'n iver fin' out what he'n up ta al'lat time.  Nawt sure at'tall..."
    August melted away from the heat of that late summer with a forgetful haze, blurring the cityscape in its radiating sauna.