poverty

M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him and his tail) is content. His memory equity is high. His thoughts from before the golden age are today worth a large fortune. He taunts his Insignificant Aide (also known as Ia, curses unto her and her ears).

M: "What are your thoughts worth? eh? What are they worth? hm? Tell me, you spineless worm! What is the value of memories?"

Ia is oblivious to the world around her. She continues rolling around on the carpet, playing furiously with the virgin white iPod cable. The evening sun shines across the February sky, lighting the dust in the air into a million tiny sparks as they rise from the carpet and from Ia's glossy coat. For her, nothing exists. She is in heaven, with sunlight on her tummy and a toy in her hands.

M: "Harrrummphh!! you two-pence whore! What would you know about the value of memories. I bet you don't know your equities from your assets."

Ia chews at the iPod cable. The music never stops. The sun never sets.