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>[Part 1: When I Grow Up]
>[A long time ago…]
A lone child sits inside a classroom. The walls are painted with pristine detail, and the trimmings are only the finest of wood, from the oldest trees in Spaghetti Town. At the head of the room, one of the most respectable tutors money can buy. He stands with his back turned to the single student, prattling on about honour and duty, roles and echelons. Charts are drawn on the chalkboard, lines with some arbitrary meaning of no interest to the child behind him. The minutes feel like hours as his voice drones on; ‘taxes’ this and ‘arranged something’ that. He turns his head and finds he is talking to himself, as his sole student is paying him no heed.
“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”
