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You Live Inside a Heat Engine That Occasionally Develops Opinions There are few experiences more humbling than watching the atmosphere reorganize itself into a rotating, ocean-powered argument with your zip code. A hurricane does not knock politely. It does not arrive with a mission statement or a calendar invite. It forms quietly, far away, as warm water evaporates into the sky with what can only be described as enthusiasm. Invisible energy accumulates. Pressure drops. Air begins to move, first gently, then with intent, then with the kind of commitment normally associated with people who have decided to "finally reorganize the garage" and accidentally demolish a wall. And at some point-often while you are doing something profoundly ordinary, like buying cereal or ignoring a weather app-the system crosses a threshold. It becomes a thing. A named thing.