I did stop. I looked at him. The morning light showed his features. He was kind of an ordinary looking man. Nothing special about him. Nothing to indicate he had authored a revolutionary paper that would change the way people thought about processes forever.
But then I didn’t know what a person like that should look like. Why should a person look like anything? Did I look like what I was, a cubicle zombie?
“I don’t like the way you call people cubicle zombies.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “I’ll stop doing that.”
“We’re not zombies,” I said.
“Agreed. It was an insensitive and wholly inappropriate way to speak of someone. I will no longer do it.”
The tip of my horn was an indistinct blur at the center of my vision. It floated around in front of me like a blind spot in my field of view. Was
