– Germany Nazi April XXVIII, MCMXLV –

est fantasy pueri, pauci week recentis Berolini. Hoc scio vera esse ut nondum adultis dignum potest sensum eorum quae fiunt, sed intelligere est phantasia simulatione evadere nos hie in corde furor et tormenta pugnans contra tormenta tasque impetus bomb populationibus fuit. Insequenti transformatione fantastic mea re nuntio officiis – incessus Front me loca etiam menses ago eras vicinia mea – Custodi me satis dilucida dilatione serpens insanias circa quicquid me.

         Attendi schola aedificium annis retro supponit hodie per visum sedem bello contra malum. Dux copia I regulariter tulit gelu matri longa iacet ante me ténebræ et ardens de nubila reflexio ignes luce per miss tecto superstitio umbras pulsus de fenestras eius quodlibet novum explosione's emicare horizonti terrere me perge. Hi caminis unde omnis sollicitus puto, pariunt manebunt perpetuum ita, sed tametsi puer, quaeque animam duco possum confirmare adhuc somnium's magistro.

What if people could think for them-self? No, I do not mean rotate the idea around – once wash, then repeat – to fit like so many chicken in a oven. But every time reach for that spark beyond their react by ask can, I do better than this? And then do it. Can you imagine how danger that could be?

         This is a voyage through the space between your ear; a vast not tap lone chasm of nothing kept company by only the echo of once intelligence thought, now long since past it expire date. A journey that ask how, instead of what and why, when okay would have done and if, where because was just not sense obscure a truth so personal it could never be under-stood again.

         Fragment Earth is the trip of a life-time… see you on the other ear.

– Nazi Germany, April 28, 1945 –

It is a child fantasy, these past few week in Berlin. This I know to be true as I have yet to meet an adult who can make sense of what is happen, but we know; it is a pretend fantasy come true and here we are at the heart of mad battle with gun and grenade against artillery attack and bomb raid. In the follow fantastic transform of my real, my duty as messenger – drive me to excite new place that month and even week ago were just my community – keep me sane enough to stave off the creep not sane that own every-thing around me.

         I attend school for year in a build which stand behind me today as headquarter of a dream battle against evil. The general store I regular fetch ice from for my mother now lie ahead of me, dark and glow from the low cloud reflect of fire-light through it miss roof, scary shadow pulse out of it window with each new explode flash from the horizon fright me on. These are the forge from which all bad dream come and I imagine they will be so for all time, but even though I am only a child, every new breath I come mean I could still be this dream master.

What if people could think for themselves? No, I don't mean rotating the ideas around – once washed, then repeated – to fit like so many chickens in a rotisserie. But every time reaching for that spark beyond their reaction by asking can, I do better than this? And then doing it. Can you imagine how dangerous that could be?

         This is a voyage through the space between your ears; a vast untapped lonely chasm of nothingness kept company by only the echoes of once intelligent thought, now long since past its expiration date. A journey that asks how, instead of what and why, when okay would have done and if, where because was just nonsense obscuring a truth so personal it could never be understood again.

         Fragment Earth is the trip of a lifetime… see you on the other ear.

– Nazi Germany, April 28, 1945 –

It is a child's fantasy, these past few weeks in Berlin. This I know to be true as I have yet to meet an adult who can make sense of what is happening, but we understand; it is a pretended fantasy come true and here we are at the heart of madness battling with guns and grenades against artillery attacks and bombing raids. In the ensuing phantasmagoric transformation of my reality, my duties as messenger – driving me to exciting new places that months and even weeks ago were just my neighborhood – keep me lucid enough to stave off the creeping insanity that owns everything around me.

         I attended school for years in a building which stands behind me today as headquarters of a dream battle against evil. The general store I regularly fetched ice from for my mother now lies ahead of me, dark and glowing from the low clouds reflection of firelight through its missing roof, eerie shadows pulse out of its windows with each new explosion's flash from the horizon frightening me onward. These are the forges from which all nightmares spawn and I imagine they will remain so for all time, but even though I am only a child, every new breath I draw confirms I could still be this dream's master.

- Czechoslovakia Bohemicum, Ut IV, MCMXLV -

“Non ille brevius, nigro capillo, American Exercitu uniforme.”

         “Oh, sumo verbis Prov. Sic,” search PHRENETICUS secuti digitum meum in suggestione eery cuniculum lit.

         “In American?” responditque altera facilisis, “Vivus aut mortuus?”

         “Vita” I tas.

         “Et in gradibus areae a dozen, si festinet.”

         “Omnis magna,” inquit DIGITUS primoris “a circa angulum ibi,” ut vertit.

With no such absolute as truth we move; in mind, in body, in spirit, we are free to lost between real and dream in search of a survive worth of our worth. Until real, or what-ever loose idea of such we find our-self trap by, pull us back into the crazy here and now, to bad and commit through fulfill and struggle it test our dream for truth.

         Maybe truth was not what we had dream it was; word and their need feel often cloud our make of the more common idea. Who even among you speak the word irony with-out be irony? In a world, where our most common use of such turn out to be it only make, do we struggle, in a joke there-by so same humor, to survive, among that which laugh with our truth as it laugh at our dream, while never not each one do to either with this Fragment Earth.

– Bohemian Czechoslovakia, May 4, 1945 –

"No, he short, dark hair, American Army uniform."

         "Oh, want your word wise. That way," my fast search follow his finger said into the bad lit tunnel.

         "The American?" said the next Officer, "Live or dead?"

         "Live!" I said.

         "Up the stairs a dozen floor, if you hurry."

         "Every-one important," said the digit at the top, "come from around that corner there," as I turn it.

With no such absolute as truth we wander; in mind, in body, in spirit, we are free to waver between consciousness and dreams in search of a survival worthy of our worthiness. Until reality, or whatever loose construct of such we find ourselves engulfed by, pulls us back into the stark-raving here and now, toward burden and commitment through fulfillment and struggle it tests our dreams for truth.

         Perhaps truth was not what we had dreamt it was; words and their compulsory feelings often cloud our definitions of the more common concepts. Who even among you speak the word irony without being ironic? In a world, where our most common use of such turns out to be its only definition, do we struggle, in a joke thereby so coincidentally humorous, to survive, among that which laughs with our truths as it laughs at our dreams, while never neither does to either with this Fragment Earth.

– Bohemian Czechoslovakia, May 4, 1945 –

“No, he's shorter, dark hair, American Army uniform.”

         “Oh, choose your words wiser. That way,” my frenetic search followed his finger's suggestion into the eerily lit tunnel.

         “The American?” replied the next Officer, “Living or dead?”

         “Living!” I insisted.

         “Up the stairs a dozen floors, if you hurry.”

         “Everyone important,” replied the digit at the top, “comes from around that corner there,” as I turned it.

– In Aquilonem Mare, Europa, October III, MCMXLV –

“Forsitan, ipsi iustus non volo impetro id quoque humidum.”

         “Non, dico si Thermopylis est nova submarine, cur non sumus ex ibi egitque aequora-”

         “Et quid Jameson, mersis Axis actuarias? Conciliandos bellum pro Regi et patriae inferetis? Suus 'super feminam, vos hic adveni-”

         “Bonum Mane, iuvenes. Aliquid ut nuntiaret?”

         “Minime novum contactus, Sir!”

         “Clangendum is descendit a, arborem Clarry, necdum mea tea.”

         “Et stipes,” tacitus ille praesentari aeque inanis linteum cartaceas.

         “Putes” inquam, “nihil amplius quam dolor hic geritur.”

         “Essem ego solum, si feci, Sir.”

Sad, around those work that we do so great in number in, think can-not be count. Yet if our history show any-thing more than our gross size for anger, and trick of, it is certain that we can do more united than ever away. The number of work a group can do after the person is many: United we hunt great and collect more, move far for cheap, dig fast and deep, climb high for more; more only make us strong, though no body or group ever make has think more free by more it number.

         Where we have come united in follow of this work: only rich, bad, use, settle and slave next. Around a people who can whole-heart be made to pull any stone to the top of any hill, you will not find an not leader many who will agree with what should be done with it once it is there. Because when think, the common real group of we, become the follow think rule of a me. For where you were open, weak and not sure, they that are tied are not deny simple, for they can not be wrong if they all agree, and they will all agree if they will all just think like me.

         So they will join, but once they must fall it will be this Part of Earth, stop them all.

– The North Sea, Europe, October 3, 1945 –

“Maybe, they just did not want to get it too wet.”

         “No, I mean if the Thermopylae is a new submarine, why are not we out there cut the ocean–”

         “And what Jameson, sink Axis work ship? Win the war for King and Land? It over friend, you got here–”

         “Good Morning, People. Any-thing to report?”

         “No new meet, Sir!”

         “Sound it down a little, Clarry; not yet had my tea.”

         “And the report,” he quiet here an level empty sheet of paper.

         “You'd think,” I said, “some-thing more concern than nothing would be go on here.”

         “I would be alone if I did, Sir.”

Sadly, among those tasks which we excel so greatly in numbers in, thinking cannot be counted. Yet if our history exhibits anything more than our gross capacity for violence, and deception thereof, it is surely that we can do more together than ever apart. The number of tasks a group can excel beyond the individual is countless: Together we hunt greater and gather more, travel farther for cheaper, dig faster and deeper, climb higher for longer; more only makes us stronger, though no body or group ever assembled has thought more freely by increasing its number.

         Wherever we have come together in pursuit of this task: only decadence, corruption, usury, stagnation and subjugation ensue. Among a people who can wholeheartedly be convinced to drag any stone to the top of any hill, you will not find an unguided majority who will agree with what should be done with it once it is there. Because when thinking, the familiar physical grouping of we, becomes the followed intellectual tyranny of a me. For where you were fallible, weak and unsure, they that are bound are undeniably pure, for they can't be wrong if they all agree, and they'll all agree if they'll all just think like me.

         So they'll unite, but once they must fall it'll be this Fragment Earth, defying them all.

– The North Sea, Europe, October 3, 1945 –

“Maybe, they just didn't want to get it too wet.”

         “No, I mean if the Thermopylae is a new submarine, why aren't we out there plying the oceans–”

         “And what Jameson, sinking Axis merchant vessels? Winning the war for King and Country? It's over mate, you got here–”

         “Good Morning, Lads. Anything to report?”

         “No new contacts, Sir!”

         “Tone it down a notch, Clarry; not yet had my tea.”

         “And the log,” he silently presented an equally empty sheet of paper.

         “You'd think,” I replied, “something more interesting than nothing would be going on here.”

         “I'd be alone if I did, Sir.”

– Priores Britannis Negotium Zonam, Foederalis Reipublicae Germaniae, Augustus XXIX, MCMXLIX –

Volvens in eius beta rubrum maxillam cum sero ictu quod lacrimam sedet meo expectare a Significantius momento. Mea obtutuque secuti eius ditissima macula, per illos tentatus risu lineae, retro adipiscing ore adhuc hiatu a ultimum cogitatio. Hoc lacrimam scriptor redivivus, ad emergere linitionem oculus adipiscing tempus proximus delictum, refrigeratum venis, ardens mea cogitationes adipiscing tergum faucibus.

         Viderunt me continuerunt conversus venit ad ostium sensim respiciens tempor ut unum extremum, quod admiratio si mala antequam vadam et non frangent. Spirans meam risu, ego aperuit ostium, conculcarent extra, quod vocem secuti, non hoc tempore! Ego movetur etiam molliter ad auditum infra incudem adhuc cudebat eius consilium et simpliciter dixit, “ubi omnes ducunt ad argumentum, familiaritatem prodiit contemptum.”

         Amisit adipiscing silentium, respexit per me enim supportantes testimonium, ut conversus adipiscing eius suus, iter a ad usquam quod non hic.

         “Hoc esse eum,” Sam dixit, perveniens pro baseball vespertilionem. “De originale pecuaria currus persona, hoc mortis capita bastardus scriptor immatura secessu non nisi ex centum millibus cui firmiter obscratis ultima ostium.”

Time, not matter after the person answer of the anger that explain that space, between then and now, without great pause, any note time will have already been forgot before it was ever note. It is in the note of such a time that we are pause, and in that pause do we see chance – I stop; I must have stop for a reason, why did I stop – That a time might be note, prove and know.

         Some-thing answer them of course, but it is a rare time that we said our, note so. No, it is far more often that we are said by another, who has a thing, that need some-thing we might have the size to help with, and with that ask of need echo in our ear, do the person in our self begin. Great and owe lay after. Reason and know can-not over-come this wall, for answer the cry of need, explain person take on too many level to be fight... Then this Part of Earth.

– Past British Take Zone, Federal Land Of Germany, September 29, 1949 –

Roll on her beet red cheek with a slow pause that tear seat my think to wait for a more useful time. My look follow it jewel mark, in those well-travel smile line, back in her mouth still gap wide from it last think. This tear recycle, to appear cover her eye in time for my next hurt, cool my heart, burn my think in the back of my mouth.

         I stop look, and turn, walk slow to the door, look back like every time, one last time, think if I should not break that mouth before I go. Breath out my smile, I open the door, step outside, that talk follow, not this time! I move too soft to be hear below her work still create it answer and simple said, “where all road lead to a talk, common has make anger.”

         She lost in my quiet, look in me for help fact, as I turn in her, walk away to any-where that was not here.

         “This will be him,” Sam said, reach for his baseball bat. “The First Cattle Car Person, this death-head bad dream early quit will not save him from the hundred thousand people for who he bolt the final door.”

Moments, rarely matter beyond the personal resolution of the conflict which defined that space, between then and now, without greater interruption, any definable moment will have already been forgotten before it was ever noted. It is in the noting of such a moment that we are disrupted, and in that disruption do we see opportunity – I stopped; I must have stopped for a reason, why did I stop – That a moment might be noted, validated and understood.

         Something's resolve themselves of course, but it is a rare moment that we interrupt ourselves, notably so. No, it is far more often that we are interrupted by another, who has a thing, which needs something we might have the capacity to assist with, and with that plea of necessity's echo through our ears, does the hero within our ego ignite. Greatness and debt lay beyond. Reason and understanding cannot surmount this barrier, for answering the cry of ineptitude, represents personal profit on too many levels to be resisted... Until this Fragment Earth.

– Former British Occupation Zone, Federal Republic Of Germany, September 29, 1949 –

Rolling onto her beet red cheek with a belated blink that tear seated my thoughts to wait for a more meaningful moment. My stare followed its jeweled stain, through those well-traveled smile lines, back into her mouth still gaping wide from its last thought. This tear's recycling, to reemerge glazing her eye in time for my next offense, cooled my veins, burning my thoughts into the back of my throat.

         I stopped staring, and turned, walking slowly toward the door, looking back like every time, one last time, wondering if I shouldn't break that jaw before I go. Breathing out my smile, I opened the door, stepping outside, that voice followed, not this time! I moved too softly to be heard below her anvil still forging its resolve and simply said, “where all roads lead to an argument, familiarity has bred contempt.”

         She lost in my silence, looked through me for supporting evidence, as I turned in her's, marching away toward anywhere that wasn't here.

         “This will be him,” Sam said, reaching for his baseball bat. “The Original Cattle Car Conductor, this death-headed bastard's premature retirement won't save him from the hundred thousand souls for whom he bolted the final door.”

– Connecticutensium, Iunctus Statu, Itinere XXXI, MCMLII –

Splendida et matutina sol ad luminis confodi oculis meis clausa sicut ego emersit in PERGULA. Obturatio, ego paetus protegens eos cum manu mea, prospicere super hortis cum risu pro omnibus occupatus apes laborantes absentis in fidedixit mihi. Erat autem procul sonitum rebellis risus, quae rogasti me peragemus, sicut inveni respice sub umbra ligno, de quo sorores meas sedebat bibere grapefruit. Cum distractio perierat et oculos accomodati, perseveravi trans lapis pensili, annuntiando me, sicut ego venit, dicens, “tu pulsant, Marcus, subsisto admiramini hortulanus.”

         Nee suspicit mulier respondit, “Bonum mane, Bethania,” praebens me, ejus conspéctu tandem, “somnum bene-”

         “Facit respicere bonum, concedam vobis, quod-” perseveravi, obfirmatis sera coruscis perstringerent in mei.

         “Aut estis vos nuper, lugens alius ex vitae amat perierat,” inquit, aspicit me mortuus luscus, “ad Patris prohibentem timores? Bene, illa vel autumo vestri 'tandem adsumpto in Tsetse muscis.”

         Alicia, sedens iuxta suum risit quiete in eam sudarium, “Bonum mane, Alicia,” I ait cum a click, conpescere tacita, “et bene neverat, Marcus. Numquid est vobis salvares quod linea diu?”

         Illa concluditur, “si modo Patrunculus erant non circum Bethania, comprimere omnia tua victoriis acquisivit.”

What small know there is in the world is force by those mark them with the rule of we. We call them they, and in do so copy this rule in hope it might help almost than over-come us. But like most dream that can-not live the light of day, go us not help, hold, will hold to that they say as though it were said, with our own talk, in us do their confuse live on to the next night... That we might dream them again.

         Can I real do this? Is the think that come idea and bad, but it is know break and not know, that make the control such act more common need. Once over know, you may not know, but because not calm guess some-thing can be know, slow guess person must there know; easy only know for sure that you do not, then scare not save – not trust – is all that divide you from control, and with it remove: the rule of me, is honor to a we, with the death of the I, they will not know you by.

         But, with the birth of this Part of Earth, a stop this agree has stop has begun.

– Connecticut, United State, March 31, 1952 –

The light morning sun-light stab my eyes close as I appear on the deck. Stop, I look, cover them with my hand, to look out over the garden with a smile for all the busy bugs work away on my good. But it was the far sound of rebel laugh, that beg me on, as I find look under the shade tree, where my sisters sat drink grapefruit. With confuse lost and eyes change, I continue over the stone deck, as I near, say, “you tramp, Ellie, stop look at the person.”

         Without look up she said, “Good morning, Bethany,” give me her sight at last, “sleep well-”

         “He do look good, I will said you, that-” I continue, lock her light look to mine.

         “Or are you late, sad another of life love lost,” she said, look at me calm, “to Father fear? Well, that or I figure you are final take in Tsetse bugs.”

         Alicia, sit next to her, laugh quiet in her clothe, “Good morning, Alicia,” I said with a click, to quiet the quiet, “and well turn, Ellie. Have you been save that line for long?”

         She decide, “if only Dad were not near, Bethany, to quiet all your control.”

What little understanding there is in the world is wielded by those distinguishing themselves with the tyranny of we. We call them they, and in doing so emulate this tyranny in hopes it might support rather than envelop us. But like most dreams that cannot survive the light of day, leaving us unsupported, grasping, willingly clinging to that which they say as though it were spoken, with our own voice, through us do their delusions live on toward the next night... That we might dream them again.

         Can I really do this? Is the thought which precedes revelations and horrors, but it is information overload and misunderstanding, which usher the control such acts more commonly require. Once over informed, you may not understand, but because impatience presumes something can be understood, laziness assumes someone must therefore understand; convenience only knows for certain that you do not, then paranoia's insecurity – mistrust – is all that divides you from control, and with its removal: the tyranny of me, is canonized to a we, with the death of the I, they will not remember you by.

         But, with the birth of this Fragment Earth, a refusal this passive-consent has relent has begun.

– Connecticut, United States, March 31, 1952 –

The bright morning sunlight stabbed my eyes closed as I emerged onto the veranda. Pausing, I squinted, shielding them with my hand, to look out over the gardens with a smile for all the busy bees toiling away on my behalf. But it was the distant sound of misanthropic laughter, which begged me onward, as I found focus under the shade tree, where my sisters sat slurping grapefruit. With distractions lost and eyes adjusted, I continued across the stone terrace, announcing myself as I approached, saying, “you tramp, Ellie, stop staring at the gardener.”

         Without looking up she replied, “Good morning, Bethany,” affording me her sight at last, “oversleep well-”

         “He does look good, I will concede you, that-” I continued, locking her sparkling glance into mine.

         “Or are you late, mourning another of life's loves lost,” she replied, looking at me dead-eyed, “to Father's forbidding fears? Well, that or I figure you're finally taking in Tsetse flies.”

         Alicia, sitting next to her, laughed quietly into her napkin, “Good morning, Alicia,” I said with a click, to silence the silent, “and well spun, Ellie. Have you been saving that line for long?”

         She concluded, “if only Daddy weren't around, Bethany, to stifle all your conquests.”

– Arlington, Virginia, Iunctus Statu, Augustus XXVII, MCMLIX –

“Ita,” in mori, defectum posset succedunt sicut iacente, comprehendens, etiam experiri fœnum, quod osculatus aurem meam Bonum-nox noctis scivit hoc ut diximus, “plures sunt populi qui cogitant de quae debet fieri, sed etiam fecit eos. Putabat solum aliorum; cogitemus solum de illo propter noster est prioritate nunc. Speret exodum eius, aperire corda nostra ad hoc adfligens claritatem voluntatis, dimittes eam vivere in omnibus nobis. Enim prae cunctis aliud, senator, Clayton Wiesenthal Theodorus, vir bonus. Sit vobiscum” existimaui, nutans luctus benedicens facies ut ad sedem meam lento ictu.

         Sic susurrábant est, collectumque premens uoluit sub retro me, “Omnis homo perierat, novum fortuna invenitur,” sicuti ego sedit. “Numquid non quod ius, Canneli unus passum descendendo, duo gradibus et vestra billion pupa foramen assumit legitimitate alicuius Sancti.”

         Ego subrisit.

         “Sanctorum numerum retulit, et confirmata, per” collectumque premens uoluit sub susurrábant prolixius tendebatur, “satus shovel pecuniam, pueri.” Incumbebat in et susurrábant, “videbimus quam emendatissimi vestra lapis munitionem spectat in luce die.”

         Conversus, quaesivi solum, “poterit, nos?”

Wrong is normal to much that we do because right has no fear or control over you – Any-one can be great any-thing, but push them there and we will all hurt the rich of their not smart, that is if your own do not control it, for the great some of us were said for might have only been fail, even that lift us to size not before dream; not a builder not design alive has look on that small lean tower in Pisa without a concern, for fail learn hard: It okay to be wrong, it more important than be right; without that, you could not name right – for fear has no right, for wrong is so clear, fear stop the right come any-where near.

         With that, in the follow of free, we look the other way care any-thing that do not kill us in group, or now show the not good common poor of our child. Can this anger be worth it help, or our loss? Is it, all or nothing, where free is concern; can there be no agree on fair honor without their need slave? Is this what we move to in large, with our work, or is free the create of adult control that we may be not free hold as child, to goal of hurt and use, after any decide, that our adult live be lost learn style to free cause. Ever use that that use us, ever damn us and future people by the example our destroy go; live always in not free and free, from same that I fail to know from this Part of Earth.

– Arlington, Virginia, United State, September 27, 1959 –

“Yes,” in die, fail could win like the lying, the hold, even the try grass that kiss my ear good-night know this as we said, “there are many people who think of thing that should be done, but he really did them. He think only of other; let us think only of him for he is our need now. Let his moving open our heart to this not change clear of will, let it live on in us all. For above all other, Senator, Clayton Theodore Wiesenthal, was a good man. May he rest in agree,” I decide, and approve the sad face, with a slow pause as I return to my seat.

         So talk, the talk behind me, “Every man lost, a new luck find,” as I sat down. “Is not that right, Canneli? One step down, two step up and your billion money hole have the real of a hero.”

         I smile.

         “Honor and prove,” the talk talk loud, “begin shovel the money, boys.” He lean in and talk, “we will see how perfect your stone fort look in the light of day.”

         Turn, I ask only, “will we?”

Wrong is innate to much that we do because right has no fear or control over you – Anyone can be great anythings, but force them there and we will all suffer the bounty of their incompetence, that is if your own does not overshadow it, for the greatness some of us were meant for might have only been failure, even which lifts us to heights not previously imagined; nary a builder nor architect alive has looked on that little leaning tower in Pisa without a gulp, for failure's lesson learned: It's okay to be wrong, it's more important than being right; without which, you could not identify right – for fear has no right, for wrong is so clear, fear stops the right coming anywhere near.

         With which, in the pursuit of liberty, we look the other way regarding anything that does not kill us in droves, or immediately show the irreconcilable public demise of our offspring. Can this disdain be worth its benefits, or our loss? Is it, all or nothing, where liberty is concerned; can there be no agreement on reasonable ethics without their compulsory subjugation? Is this what we move toward in mass with our clamor, or is liberty the development of adult exploitation that we may be inescapably inducted as children into cycles of abuse and addiction beyond any judgment, that our adult lives be lost academic style to liberty's cause. Ever consuming that which consumes us, ever condemning ourselves and future generations by the example our self-destruction leaves; living forever in unparalleled freedom and liberty from exactly that which I failed to understand from this Fragment Earth.

– Arlington, Virginia, United States, September 27, 1959 –

"Yeees," in dieing, failure could succeed like the lying, the grasping, even the trying grass that kissed my ear goodnight knew this as we said, "there are many people who think of things which should be done, but he actually did them. He thought only of others; let us think only of him, for he is our priority now. Let his passing open our hearts to this unremitting clarity of will, let it live on in us all. For above all else, Senator Clayton Theodore Wiesenthal, was a good man. May he rest in peace," I concluded, nodding and blessing the mourning faces with a slow blink as I returned to my seat.

         So whispered the snort behind me, "Every man lost, a new fortune found," as I sat down. "Isn't that right, Canneli? One step down, two steps up and your billion dollar hole assumes the legitimacy of a saint."

         I smiled.

         "Canonized and confirmed," the snort whispered louder, "start shoveling the money, boys." He leaned in and said, "we will see how faultless your granite fortress looks in the light of day."

         Turning, I asked only, "will we?"