Early afternoon, January 20, 2011: Precipitation in the form of freezing rain that, over the course of ten minutes, turns to sleet. Inside the Metro offices, a group of decision-making employees wearing khakis and button-up shirts bought from Wal-Mart crowd around the scummy, unclean windows. (It would cost too much to have the windows cleaned, and the budget must be clear so that road work downtown may continue.) They watch, enraptured and awe-struck, as the drops turn to flakes.
Bureaucrat 1: What is this?
Bureaucrat 2: I know not. [pause] Consult the Codex.
[Audible gasp from the Metro government workers.]
Bureaucrat 3: Surely, we do not need to consult the Codex quite yet. Verily, the objects falling from the sky are truly frightening—Louis hath shat himself quite thoroughly.
Louis, the Bureaucrat: Sorry.
[Louis exits to clean himself.]
Bureaucrat 3: But one man’s soiling of himself doth not warrant the gathering of the Codex.
Archie, the Intern: What’s the Codex?
[A hush falls over the group of city employees. They turn from the windows and stare, slack jawed, at the one who does not know of the Codex.]
Bureaucrat 1: Ask thou, “What is the Codex?” Yea, thou shouldst surely ask “What is the sky?”