When Muffy felt she was a safe distance from her pursuers, and beyond any danger of being scathed, she gradually eased down from a sprint to an easy jog. She began to think about her future. Where was she headed? What was her true destiny? What did Fortune have in store for her? And when would they publish the photos of her on the heart-shaped bed in the penthouse back at the Cassa Lombarda? Did she have enough insurance? Term or whole life?
Muffy was so lost in this train of thought that she collided with a stranger walking towards her, and dropped her packages on the sidewalk.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, are you OK?"
"Ah, yeah, I guess," sighed the stranger in a low, weary voice.
Muffy took a step back to look over this tall stranger. He was a well-bound but dog-eared fellow of rather bookish appearance, with brown leathery skin and a well-tooled spine.
Muffy liked what she saw.
"Hi, I'm Muffy," she said as she held out her hand with a smile.
"Atlas." said the stranger, returning a limp handshake.
"Atlas? What a neat-o name. Hey, is that a Mercator projection in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?"
The stranger seemed impervious to Muffy's attempt at flirtatious humor.
"Glad? No I'm not glad, I'm tired, exhausted, I feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. It never ends. Just when I think I'm, you know, complete, they come up with new administrative divisions in Nigeria, or some new reservoir in Venezuela. Do you have any idea how many stitches I had to have when they carved up Yugoslavia?"
"Oh, how awful," said Muffy. "Um, listen, you seem to be a man of the world, let me ask you something. I need a cool new place for my next adventure. Got any ideas?"
Atlas shrugged... |
