December 22, 2010
For those interested, the windmill-powered street lights are described on the Panasonic website, under the global website page, and then under Japan. I based my description on model FY-17TWF2 (the ones without built-in cameras). I used Google Translate to read the website in English.

I began to use Sparknotes as a resource. It isn't much more helpful than simply reading the text. But it does cut through the verbosity of the translation I am using. It is "SparkNote on Don Quixote" by SparkNotes Editors, 2003; accessed December 20, 2010 { http: / / www. sparknotes. com/ lit/ donquixote/ context. html} (cut and paste inside the {funky brackets}, and remove the spaces to get the correct web address).

Thanks for reading this! The corresponding chapter of the public domain Don Quixote translation that I'm using is at {www. online-literature. com/ cervantes/ don_quixote/ 12/}.

The Fantastic Wind Turbine Misadventure and Other Winning Tales
Chapter 8

Sooner or later Dan and Kildare reached a major thoroughfare. And there did Dan see streetlights along that roadway which were the kind that are powered by Savonius 3-blade wind turbines.

"Hey, Kildare. We're in luck. There are no less than thirty evil aliens here. And I'm going to shorten the List today, terminating each and every one of 'em!"

"Ew! You're an alien killer?" Kildare asked. "That's the crazy stuff I was trying to leave behind with my dad's consortium."

"I prefer Alien Hunter," Dan said, self-righteously. "But I have no desire to play your father's games. Truth be told, my only interest is in ridding the earth of malevolent alien spawn. I can feel their evil presence. Can you?"

Kildare looked around. Dan pointed at the lights lining the road. "Look how tall they stand, arrogant, refusing to take off their hats in my presence."

Now Kildare looked at Dan, not the street. "Are you feeling okay, dude? Or are you just pretending that you've never seen any wind-powered street lamps?"

"Some sidekick you are," grumped Dan. "You want to spoil all the fun with your literal interpretations? Well, be in awe of my awesomeness. I shall go forth and conquer. Now where's my List?" Dan pulled out his cell phone and studiously researched the alien in question.

Dan then pedaled over to one of the street lights. Kildare yawned and slumped over the handle bars of his transportation. And the wind remembered that it had a role to play, too. So a light breeze blew down the street and the curvy windmills inside the street light poles began to turn.

Dan got off his bike and walked up to one of the columns supporting the lights. "I should have known. A swirlish," he muttered, consulting his List. "And you are Whirl Thirteen. A particularly devilish swirlish, you are."

The light on the lamp flickered, powered by the swirlish's nervous energy. Dan's compassionate side came through. "Don't worry, my friend. I don't intend to kill you. I just need to make it look like you've been exterminated in the Chairman's game consortium. And I'm not sure I fully trust our sidekick yet. So what do you say?"

The swirlish spun around and around on the turbine. "I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Dan said. He drew in a deep breath that stopped the wind on the street. Each street light turbine was stilled. Thirty swirlishes departed their hiding places in the turbines and took residence inside Dan. An unfortunate side effect of this rescue was a temporary case of flatulence borne by Dan.

And it was just then that Dan let loose a deafening toot and thus wilted a nearby petunia. Kildare woke up and covered his nose. He shouted over to Dan, "I thought you'd try to break the windmills, not break wind!"

Dan belched, then sucked in his breath quickly before he answered, "As my sidekick, I'd hoped you might be willing to put up with frequent flatulation."

"That's a back formation ," Kildare said, trying to hold his breath.

"I thought it was digestive," Dan admitted, releasing gas once again.

Kildare shook his head. "If I knew you had flagellation in mind, I would have gladly used your bike chain on myself."

Dan pompously mounted his Ducati, which looked suspiciously like a cheap bicycle. "We're talking flatulence, here, Kildare. Stay with the program."

"What about the evil presence of alien scum program?" Kildare asked.

"We need not fear evil aliens here. 'Tis true, I thought the Prayer might be at work. But I discovered that those were nothing other than ordinary street lights. It is just as you have said." And Dan let a tiny trumpet of air escape his other end.

Kildare made an effort to stay up wind of Dan as they trekked toward Shibuya Station. As they went along, Dan assured Kildare that many an adventure would be found at that busy subway station.

At this point, Dan noticed the depth of Kildare's olfactory discomfort. "I have to wonder. I may be the first hero to suffer a bout of indigestion. But I must not complain of my discomfort. That would be unheroic."

"I'm not above complaining," Kildare grumbled.

"Feel free," Dan said, trying to hold back but only resulting in a silent but deadly.

Kildare fell off his trike, "I'm dying here!"

Dan was oblivious. "Good. Very good. I have to go in Shibuya Station. Alone. Do you mind waiting out here with our wheels?"

"Happy to," Kildare replied, a bit too eagerly. He watched Dan enter the space ship … Shibuya station, Kildare corrected himself. Then he pulled some dried cuttlefish strips out of his backpack and munched away.

Meanwhile, Dan entered the station and found a place to relieve himself of the swirlishes. He was glad to be done with that, now that the game consortium's targets were far from Terra Firma.

When Dan returned, Kildare was happy to discover the flatulence was gone. They found a manga café where Kildare easily fell asleep, while Dan pined away for Dana all night.

In the morning, two mangaphiles entered the café. Dan poked Kildare awake. "Look. Rogue aliens playing your dad's hide and kill game."

Kildare rubbed his eyes. "They look like regular punks to me."

"But you haven't observed carefully, Kildare. Don't you see the delightful shape of the female outside? Obviously she is their messenger and will be sent off at once to report their victory."

"I think she's just waiting for someone."

"Of course she's waiting for someone, Kildare. And there's one more pressing matter that we must discuss."

Kildare sipped tea. "What's that?"

"Only I must hunt aliens. You must never even lift a finger in the fight. Are we agreed?"

"Happily."

Dan smiled at Kildare and approached the two new guys. "So, are ya'll looking for the devilish swirlish, too?"

The two guys looked at each other, a bit uneasy.

"Oh, come on!" Dan said impatiently. "Don't pretend that you are ignorant. Although, that is what you are. For if you had paid any attention, you would have noticed that the very swirlish you are seeking was hidden inside your watch all along!"

The one kid wearing a watch quickly looked at it. The other guy muttered, "You dim wit. Hand it over."

"Not so fast," Dan interrupted. He attacked the boy wearing the watch, wrestling the watch-bearing arm to the ground. The other punk was stunned by Dan's swiftness and ran out of the shop, crying for his mommy.

Kildare didn't want to be left out of the action, so he quickly unbuckled the watch and appropriated it for himself. And he also was curious to see what a swirlish actually looked like. He really couldn't see anything unusual about the watch, but he put it on his own wrist anyway.

Dan gave this parting word as he exited the café: "I'll dispatch your messenger to notify of Whirl Thirteen's demise."

Kildare watched through a window as Dan approached the woman outside the café. "My darling, you look ravishing."

She turned to look up at him, just as her friend, who she had been waiting for, approached as well. Dan posed provocatively, leaning on the wall of the café, staring into the waiting woman's eyes. "I hope you will be so kind as to forward a message of victory to the Chairman, on my behalf." He bent forward and kissed her hand, letting his fingers linger on hers.

"Buzz off," her friend interrupted.

Dan smiled at the girl who recently arrived. "I was hoping for an audience. Proof for the Chairman, whom we all love and adore."

The girl blushed slightly. But Dan graciously turned away. "Kildare, bring the swirlish."

Kildare stumbled past the punk in the café and held out his watch-bearing arm to Dan. With sleight of hand, Dan made a whirlwind appear above the watch face and then clamped it between his open palms. For theatrical effect, he squished the nonexistent bug between his hands and then wiped them on the front of Kildare's shirt. Kildare stared in horror at Dan, until he saw the secret wink that assured him: no aliens were harmed in the making of this chapter.

And Dan opened his mouth to send the two messengers on their way to the Chairman. But Dan's actual words were never recorded. Blame it on the original author of this account who was too lazy to write it down. I mean, what decent writer would actually leave a scene hanging right at its climax without providing a decent ending? But I suppose we could discover the resolution of this adventure if we ever get far enough along to read the Second Part. Don't hold your breath. Ten years is a long time to wait.