The audio Cue conjures a dim 10th Stratum scene: A post-athletic event proudly catered by Creamy’s. An indigo twilight casts upon peach-coloured work tunics amid youthful bustle and crisp autumn air. At the long tables servants proffer tasty portions of paghpaghak — iced dairy concoctions with flavours like Ulster Meadows, Amaretto Chocolate Cheesecake and Rhesus Pieces. The victorious plastic gladiators and their blonde spirit squads in tow seem to enjoy the treats with gusto.
The nightfall fades to a velvet black as the attendants continue scooping under lone vanilla moonlight. They soldier on, reflexively avoiding flavour buddies by second sight, carving away under the firm, Kissinger-like direction of Mr Burr. The chimes of the Cue amplify the majesty and privilege of serving such Nectar of the Gods, regardless of recognition by the recipients.
I will be there.