Well, I promised Vera I'd post it... strange story, and won't get better further on... It's partially fiction, partially dairy, partially research... enjoy (?)

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It is early in the morning, almost five to be precise, and the sun will rise in a few moments. A weird hour to come to a building site, but the guard knows me, and he did not ask any questions. When I stopped before the gate, he just pushed the button and let me drive past. I park he car before the main entrance, where it surely is a nuisance, but such are the privileges of rank. I'm usually early, but not as early as today. I get here between six and seven, but today is special. It is the day of the spring equinox, and I want to see the sunrise.
This spot is perfect for that purpose. 50 floors above the street level, and not a single high-rise building between here and the eastern horizon. This high up, almost no sound is carried from below. This early, there is no wind yet. The city is all around me, but most people are still asleep. Yes, I did choose well.
I look at the horizon, waiting for the sun. So many men have done this before, so many performed this ritual of greeting, Amon, Aton, Apollo, Sol Invictus. And I wonder how many of these men did this on the edge of a precipice, how many combined the greeting with the choosing.
The first ray appears, I put the welders goggles on, and look at the sun through the dark glasses, watch the segment of light transform into a full circle, wait until the sun is free of the horizon. I feel the heat on my face, I drink in the majesty of the gigantic ball of glowing gas, the symbol of the energy of the universe, the power that turns the wheels of life.
And when the sun is up, when the dark goggles let me see only the sun and the horizon, I perform the ritual of choice. I must decide if I will go on living, or die a swift and clean death on the concrete below. To step forward into oblivion, or to take the lenses off and continue the journey of life. An ancient choice.
For me, here and now, it is a ritual, nothing more. I stand here, and look at my life, and make the conscious decision to go on with it or not. A ritual, because I cannot think of a single reason that would make me want to end my life. Every aspect of my life is in the green. And all the important aspects of my life can be expected to remain that way, even if the Breakdown hits us years sooner than expected. But nevertheless, and though I knew the outcome beforehand, it is good to stand there, and to confirm one's will to live. I take the goggles of, and I smile. I'm sure many people would find my life a disaster. It is, by normal standards. I'm middle aged. I don't have any money on the bank. I have not made any career worth speaking of. My marriage is not brilliant, to say the least, and I couldn't think of anybody who'd feel compelled to come to my funeral. Not the American dream, really.
So what ? I hate America anyway. And important things are free, for the most. I have a wonderful collection of music, and life long access to the libraries of the web. My eyes are fine, my hands are fine, I can hear and speak. And I am rich, in a way that few understand. I own the paradigmatica, I own the metabletica, I am only a step away from the meta-unified string theory. If one considers knowledge and consciousness to be the only things of value in the universe, one will agree that I am rich and successful.
Sun greeted, continuity decision made, it is time to get on with the day. I walk down the stairs from the roof to the top level of this palace, the place I secretly call Utumno-reborn, to the spot where I have improvised the project meeting room. Twenty meter from the nearest wall, close to the high window, in the middle of the west facade, under a the four meter high ceiling, acoustics like a cathedral, the setting puts many people ill at ease. Yes, and that is why I did choose it. I don't mind the openness and the hard light, the height, the echoes in the empty space. Cozyness, the ancient safety of the cavern fireplace, it means nothing to me. I am the nomad, the solitary hunter.
And I speak, loud and clear, the words of the incantation of fire : "Agni, Loki, Abbadon, gods of the fire that brings light and destruction, I call upon you that I might succeed in my purpose and attain the heights of Noumenoon" The walls and the windows reflect my words and keep them alive long after they are spoken.