Page 15 - Demo

Natch!1Chapter 1: Kickoff MeetingMonday morning blustered around the twin towers. I wasn%u2019tquite ready to start the week. Mondays are poorly placed, I think.Nothing good ever comes from a Monday. Mondays are forgetting over the weekend, for replaying the weekend and wishingyou%u2019d stayed one more day, for wishing you%u2019d gone to college, forwishing you%u2019d majored in something else in college. Mondays arefor clearing out last week%u2019s leftovers while procrastinating theway ahead. Tuesday is really the first day of the work week. ByTuesday, you%u2019ve got a game plan, maybe a bit of steam, a littleattitude. You%u2019re organized and getting some shit done.But Mondays, especially blustery Mondays, are for sippingcoffee and looking out the window, which was where I happenedto be when our story begins. I was sipping and gazing ratherabsently out at Q, the riotous sculpture swaying like a giantmobile in the plaza far below. I should say Qi not Q, but almostno one uses its official name. The plaque at its base reads Qi%u2026kind of, if you look really, really closely. But the script is quiteornate. Jay, the engraver, was having a bit of fun. All anyone eversees is the Q. So that%u2019s what everyone calls it.Q was looking a bit like an irregular patch of coral today withany number of anemones, starfish, crabs, octopi, and other seacreatures angling here and there. Last month it seemed to bechanneling a bit more toward a rainforest. I saw a host of flowers,birds, and monkeys sprouting, perching, and dangling everywhich way. Q changes all the time. No one is quite sure how.Some claim that it reacts to changes in temperature andhumidity. Some point to the lessening and lengthening of thedays. Some claim that it%u2019s secretly altered by a graveyard staff ofartists that occupy the subterranean levels below the plaza. Ican%u2019t really speak to that. I mean, I could, but that%u2019s another story.