by Stanley Lieber


"My Cambridge placement has been confirmed."

Lunsford spoke quickly into his collar mic.  He had squeaked through the exams,
and then through security.  His plane was about to depart.

Paris Mold never heard from him again.


Bannister Colon smoothed down his wooden clothes and chewed absentmindedly from a
torn package of Normative Franks.

"Sometimes, I get angry," he said, to no one.

The tainted liquid was hot in his mouth.  Drained, he crushed the paper cup in his
hand.  Wood creaked on metal.

Bannister paced the room.

The car was late.


Bannister's day was long.

The car picked him up.  The car dropped him off.

In this way, his day continued.

Back at home, situated in his custom leather chair, he relaxed into his usual
schedule.  Policy briefs.  Slipping through the pages, he evaluated the prescribed
material.  Nothing of particular interest, here.

Bannister's dog curled under his legs, awkwardly.  This was annoying.  He kicked,
absentmindedly, landing several accidental blows against the dog's sides.  The dog
remained silent.

_Microcosm and macrocosm,_ thought Bannister.


Here was the dog, bounding through tall grasses.

Here was the dog, surveying an expanse of yard.

At intervals, the dog emitted a high-pitched whine that stabbed through
Bannister's back-porch serenity.

He logged each infraction.


Laws were made to be auctioned.

Bannister's itinerary was full.