The Captain still refuses to leave the Bridge, and there being little hope of a compromise before the cease-fire goes into effect, most of the passengers retire to the lounge.
Tired of the conversation, and of watching the Ambassadors trying to get a look down the Mayor's cleavage, you wander off into a quiet corner.
You sit down in the oak chair, and rest your elbows on the table under the windows. On both walls and around the windows are bookshelves covered with books of various kinds. A small spiral-bound notebook lies on the table, next to copies of Wired Magazine and Scientific American, and you notice a crumpled scrap of paper under the chair. There is also an odd-looking clock on the wall.
Once you heard a sound like a million rewinders all going
at once.
If you like, you can
look out the
window
and see where the Pantropikon has drifted to now.
What part of "no law" don't you
understand?!
KYFHO
