"A light sears... and it's Monday again. See our hero commute in restrained luxury, arrive at work to kill eight hours with trips to the coffee machine and a thousand games of computer Solitaire. See him step down from his “busy” day and eat the Lunch of Transience at the House of Leisure, staring at small screens all the while. After lunch: more solitaire, mayhaps even a phone call. See him head home at the end of the day, where he eats the Salmon of Knowledge on the Couch of Despair. Later, see him schlep to Coffee House #972 – his “social” outlet – and marvel at pictures of Eva Peron sipping espresso, while keeping a safe distance from humanity. See him consume MORE coffee. Watch his blood pressure alert orbiting satellites, as NORAD pushes taut and sweaty missile crews to DefCon Whatever. Too late. He explodes. The planet is torn asunder. Sentient life is destroyed across millions of parsecs of prime galactic real estate. Our hero’s cooling atoms disperse, then stir, coalesce, and slowly awaken… ah, it was only a dream. A light sears… and it’s Monday again."
-Excerpted from Banker's Holiday, by Gary Clemenceau
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