145

The captain beamed down to the planet, which was against protocol, but no one could see the point in protesting this time; after all, it was the captain's wife who was in jeopardy.  The first officer thought Captain Blake was a fool--no woman was worth saving--and he was unable to keep the contempt from his mobile features when sending the captain off.  "Say what you're thinking, Lieutenant."  Lieutenant Ebaum's face twitched, but he said nothing.  The captain was growing impatient.

144

Walking is a miracle.  Like the giant bumblebee that shouldn't be able to fly with its tiny wings, humans walking is not fully explainable.  Walking is falling.  You fling yourself off balance and, at the very last moment, you catch yourself with your other foot, and you do this over and over and over again: walking.  Perhaps it is a metaphor for life.  You fling yourself forward with reckless abandon, considering all the bad that could befall you, and catch yourself at the last moment.  You don't know how you make it, but somehow you're moving forward.  It's a miracle, but you manage, and, sometimes, you can even chew gum while you do it.

143

Carlin Samsose was the best wizard in the world.  Not many people knew him, so, therefore, hardly anyone knew he was the best wizard in the world.  Those who did know Carlin knew he was very good and tended to pass on a recommendation for his services only when pressed because they were afraid he'd no longer be their little secret.  Eventually, however, all secrets get out, and Carlin's services would be sought soon enough by the rich and the powerful and the power-hungry.

142

The wind rustled the trees and Lee tried to listen to it without the hoarse car muffler and underlying hiss of unseen traffic.  She wondered what it would have been like a hundred, two hundred, a thousand years before.  What could you hear?  Perhaps she wouldn't have courted ear damage from the summer concerts, either, and been able to hear the silence even better.

141

Setting: low-end coffee shop, small.

Stage dressing: two round tables, each with two cheap chairs; a coffee bar (black particleboard) and a door frame (black) indicating the back room of the shop.

Characters: silent, surly coffee shop owner (Uri.) Beautiful and aloof woman (Chasmine.) Angry businessman with ex-wife trouble (James.) Comic relief androgynous bag-person with "Hank" the mop head (Limpy.) The characters should be read as written: superficial and without personality or redeemability. When delivering lines, actors should remember the word "snide."

Plot: no discernible plot. James will be angry. Chasmine will be aloof and, eventually, intrigued but untouchable. Uri will pop in and out as the other characters need coffee or have a question. Limpy will ease tensions just in time, but only temporarily. The end of the one-act will leave everyone feeling like nothing happened, life is hopeless and that it must be much more difficult to write plays than one would think.

140

The story of Adam and Eve in Genesis is not a true story of how life on Earth began, but rather a story for children that teaches them how they grow and learn. Those who take the Bible for truth will most certainly have their own thoughts (and they will be sure to share them on crumpled paper rubber banded onto to rocks and flung through my picture window,) but it is nonetheless obvious for anyone who chooses to truly look.

"Eating from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil" is what we all eventually must do, though it is a bitter fruit, indeed. Recall the first time you realized that some aspect of your life was not as it at first seemed. Recall the horror you felt. Recall the tilting of your world beneath your feet. See the thick, black line drawn between "before" and "after" this realization. Think of your wish never to have had that realization. Witness your own futile attempts to forget. See every day the new truth you wish you never learned.

Congratulations. You have eaten from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.

I ate of the Tree when a man in a Winnebago cut me off when I was only sixteen and flipped me the finger. I realized, with a shock and a quick application of brakes, that not all adults are kind.

139

A crack had appeared in the ceiling over her work area. Lara only saw it because the damn browser had frozen up again and she was waiting for it to restart. The implications of a crack in the ceiling were far worse than having to wait for a computer program to restart, but, in this case, it wiped the annoyance from Lara's brow and replaced it with curiosity.