And then a further silence cuts the air. His thoughts, the collages that surround him and add to his confusion dissipate with an arid clarity. It is the voice of The Magnificence, no longer internal, no longer non-symbolic, but now verbal, audible, and terrible. We shall have a vote for chair of this committee! it says. I nominate the hunter, for he has a foresight and an insight that the rest of you lack.
Motion to accept!
All in favor?
So passed! Hunter is the new chair!
Shit, says he.