The damn bells kept ringing through the fog. Bud mumbled a command to his 
music system, a phased acoustical array splayed across both eardrums like the 
seeds on a strawberry. The volume went up but couldn't scour away the deep 
tones of the carillon, which resonated in his long bones. He wondered whether, 
as long as he was at the mod parlor, he should have
the batteries drilled out of his right mastoid and replaced. Supposedly they 
were ten-year jobs, but he'd had them for six and he listened to music all the 
time, loud.