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  • He was young.
    Energetic and ambitious.
    He was on the move.
    With an idea in his head.
    Formless but malleable.
    He honed it and coaxed it , shaped it and shaved it.
    His idea took form.
    He knew it was something. Different.
    New technology. Joined to something as old as the hills:
    something old, something new; a combination of the two.

    When he was sure he was ready, he presented his idea to The FACILITATOR;
    an idea- broker, an investor in ideas, with as goal to earn money; a maker or breaker.

    So, what do you think? the young man asked.

    The FACILITATOR pushed the papers around his desk one more time.
    His finger tapping, his lips pursing.

    Let me be honest with you, kid.
    Can I be honest with you? he said.

    Sure, the young man replied.

    Listen, kid. We're in the fast-lane here. No one's got time for this stuff. Your idea'll never catch on.

    It's cowshit, it's bird-brain.

    The young man gathered up his idea and went on his way.
    It's just as I thought, he said to himself. I'll have to go it alone. But I'll keep his words in mind. They might be useful someday.

    The world turned, the seasons changed, the moon swelled and sickled.

    In the no-man's-land of an international airport transfer lounge, the young man; a little older now, a little wiser, sat working at his lap-top.
    Another man approached with his lap-top.
    Can I plug in here, asked the man.
    Sure, the young man said.

    Hey, aren't you that kid with that crazy idea?
    Came to nothing, I guess, he laughed.
    It was the FACILITATOR.

    The young man's fingers deftly moved on the keypad of his lap-top. He turned the screen towards the man.
    Here, let me show you. the young man said.
    The FACILITATOR saw the cascading pictures, the daily story. He looked in closer, his eyes reflecting the connections, the world wide story-telling community. His mind doing the figures, making the counts, seeing the missed opportunity.
    His finger tapping, his lips pursing.
    He saw the serendipity function.
    He knew his mistake.

    The young man moved the cursor over a peculiar illustration. A bird chirped, a cow moo-ed.

    The FACILITATOR read the word and cursed himself under his breath:

    It's cowbird, you shit-brain.
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