From the Story:
It was evening, coming close to nighttime, possibly even passing over twilight entirely. Allund waited patiently at the bar, located just down the street from the office building. The place was dimly lit, slow bartender walking up and down the bar, polishing washed glasses, waitress stopping by every couple of minutes to order and pick up drinks.
Allund turned around on his stool and faced the room. This is where the businessmen of Artango hang their hats, he thought. Most of the men were in suits and ties. There was an extraordinary underabundance of women in the room, and indeed, in business entirely.
He could only pick out a few non-city-zens – most likely the plump man at the table in the center of the room, trying to start up a conversation with the only other non-Artangoan. He was wearing dusty clothing, probably lived somewhere in the Northern Territorial Elemingoe States, maybe even in the Wakobi Desert. The other looked like a sea-side man, and smelled heavily of herring.
Allund hoped they wouldn't start anything. As much as he liked action, it was not something he preferred to see demonstrated right in front of his nose. He preferred it to be displayed on a large, two-dimensional, moving-pictures screen, where no one would accidentally become involved in the fight.
Generally, businessmen of his (pin)stripe drank quietly and had no thoughts for carousing of any kind.
Luckily, the Desert-er settled down, just as Allund observed Andix walking in the door.
Andix looked slightly uncertain about even being in the place. Allund thought this rather odd. Perhaps scientists didn't get out much?
In any case, he didn't want to lose this opportunity for advice, so Allund waved him over.
Andix saw him and immediately walked over to the bar. He thought it was a very seedy place indeed – the air thick with cigar smoke, the tables crowded with lonely men sipping drinks; and even though the furniture was fairly decent, it just didn't make up for the atmosphere of desperate unhappiness.
"Hi Allund. Are you sure you want to talk here?" Andix asked incredulously, and looked around the place, looking in a way that he made sure Allund saw, and understand that this was not exactly the greatest place to meet.
"Yeah. I come here all the time," he said, apparently missing Andix's look all together.
Andix decided to ignore that particular issue and sat down on one of the definitely-more-comfortable-than-it-initially-looked barstools. "So, how can I help you?" he asked.
"Well," started Allund, who didn't really know where to begin, "I don't really know where to begin."
"Well, I always say," and Andix put on his special speech-making voice, "Start at the beginning, and when you get to the end, stop."
"All right. Hmm…"
He thought for a few moments, and then started to look a little more confident. Andix waited expectantly: as much as he enjoyed their little conversations together, he never really realized how slowly these businessmen could think. It would be faster to watch a fish crawl over a mountain.
Finally, Allund began to speak, "I've been working on this presentation and I just can't seem to get it right… No, that's not right – not far back enough. Let me think." he scratched his beginning-to-get-stubbly chin with his hand. "Yes, we were all assigned… no, that's not quite it either." He stared up at the ceiling for a few moments.
"I think I've got it," he said. Andix's eyes lit up with a little spark of joy. Maybe this wouldn't take too long after all… "It all started when I was just a little boy, playing with…"
