The teacher, the astronaut, and the writer sat around a small table in a dingy room. The only source of light was a flickering incandescent bulb set in a naked fixture which hung from twisted wires above the table's center.
The astronaut, a handsome man and the oldest of the three, took a sip from his drink. "I was just selected as part of an exploratory force on Mars," he said in the uninterested tone of voice usually reserved for objective statements of fact.
The writer scratched at the bridge of his nose. "That's laudable. My works have been atop the best-seller lists for six months now, and the movie deal is coming through on one of them."
The astronaut sniffed. "If not one, then the other." He turned to the third man. "What about you?"
The teacher cradled his drink in both hands. His youthful appearance was marred with wrinkles and bags and other signs of weariness and defeat. "I don't go for glory, not like you two. I'm happy to just foster intellectual spirit and curiosity in the next generation."
"That's what they say, but surely you've accomplished something of note recently?" the writer asked.
The teacher opened his mouth to respond when the light bulb swung from side to side, as if something had jerked the snaking wires. A door appeared on one wall, its edges outlined brightly. The door opened and a figure stood silhouetted against the light spilling in from outside. The three men in the room squinted. The fourth man did not enter the room, but spoke from the portal. "Please be quiet. I'm trying to concentrate on work."
The writer, eyes still clenched against the extraordinary brilliance, studied his drink and sneered out of the corner of his mouth to the astronaut, "The garbageman talks down to us. Us!"
The teacher ignored his companion's resentful words. "I'm sorry. We will try to keep it down in here."
The silhouette nodded. "Thank you." He pulled the door shut and the light vanished, leaving the three men in the room, alone but for each other and their drinks.
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