THE CAT-WOMAN LUNGES, HORRIBLE AND MYSTERIOUS, AT A LITTLE PIECE OF LINT THAT HAS BLOWN THE WRONG WAY, ONTO TWO EXPOSED WIRES. A NANOSECOND LONGER AND THE PLAN WOULD HAVE BEEN OVER TEN MINUTES TOO SOON, BUT SHE IS DEFT, ATROCIOUS IN LEAPS, A MAGNIFICENT PITCH FOR A BALANCED DIET. THE BOMB IS SPARED! AND THE CAT WOMAN SITS, NOW PENSIVE, PICKING AT PEBBLES IMBEDDED IN THE HESITANTLY REGAL CONCRETE OF AN AGE OF NEW WORLD POSITION. SHE IS IN PAIN, OF COURSE: GREAT THROBBING ACTION AT THE TEMPLES AND GUT; HER EYES AS ANGRY. SHE PREPARES HER FEINT.
"The glow of atrocity in the public eye has in no way compensated for the lack of rounded solutions," Mark says. He is pacing back and forth, in a way that usually draws his students' attention. "The world explodes, settles back, and crumbles into hard-packed dust. Is that, the plan for stars, to be the paradigm for all our future endeavors? the continuation of suffering in a new, supercompact rendering?"
"No sir," says Tony, who is myopic. "The lands of necessity shove up the boundaries of the continent of home to give the man on the street his lip. A lip he needs, by the way, to keep from oozing into the sea. This lip is bound to save our world."
Mark takes off his glasses and rubs them with his shirt. "Tony," he says, putting them back on, "we do not in this class adopt the professor. We speak in our own plainsong. We do not twist the fabric into hopeful shapes. In this class we are quite alone."
"Yes sir," Tony says angrily. He is terrifically angry at himself. So is everyone else in the class, except for Becky, Rhonda and Mike, who are staring out the window. On their faces, little smiles, archaic. They have the air of men adoring a flag. All this for several seconds, only, the seconds after Tony has spoken. Then Becky, Rhonda and Mike look at each other.
"But no matter," says Mark; "we all have days of atrocious simplicitude--and I use the contruction advisedly." He looks at Tony, who undergoes doubt. It is appropriate doubt, Mark decides, and continues. "The revelations of desire have precluded our leaping into fascisms with impunity. Though several have tried."
"Hitler, Reagan, El Atroz."
"All have tried and none have failed--but all have paid the price. Their nations have paid."
"And siblings, descendants, believers..."
"Nations, Tony."
"Whose words, Dr. Fipp? Whose groaning, astounding plainsong?"
"And siblings, descendants, believers. Very well, Tony." He looks over his glasses at the class. "Now can we... What you looking at?"
The class is gazing as one. Tiny archaic smiles on many student faces. A cat has ambled in! Mark picks it up and holds it dramatically away from his nose.
"How did they come up with you?" Mark asks the cat. "You rubric of countless countings and legislative motions, shallow breath at Whitsuntide..." He inspects the cat's paws.
"Sir?"
The cat's paws consist of some pink, some blackish digits. "Obvious strange thing," he says, holding the cat at arm's length and looking into its eyes. "No nature could have determined you. With your freaky digits. Imagine," he says, looking at the class, "how difficult." The class doesn't respond. He takes off his glasses. Oh, for heaven's sakes. The class is looking as one. Looking towards the window. A symphony of boredom. "Perhaps," Mark says, "there is something interesting out there?
"Perhaps!" he says, and screams, and drops the cat. The class, cued, panics. Confusion grows, a bell is pulled. In the window, face of cat, two big ears. Standing on feet. Eyes alive.
THE CAT-WOMAN BENDS AND BEGINS TO PREPARE HER SURPRISE. HER PAIN DISAPPEARS AS SHE AFFAIRS HERSELF TO MATTERS OF CURRENT AND JUNCTURE. A MUSCLE CRAMPS: SHE STRETCHES AND BENDS, STRETCHES... SHE WORKS, THE WIRES ARE BETTER AND BETTER ARRANGED. SHE LOOKS IN TO CHECK WITH HER VICTIMS, WATCHES THEM YELL. YELL AND YELL AND YELL: SHEER HORROR! THE CAT-WOMAN BENDS AND PREPARES HER SURPRISE.