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Everything around you begins to fade to white. You lose consciousness for
an indefinite amount of time and you slowly begin to gain an awareness of
your surroundings. You are sitting in a lavish office. You are sitting in
an expensive leather chair, wearing a nice suit, and sitting at a high-
quality oak desk. You look out the window and see the sprawling skyline
of New York City. I must be loaded, you think, and you think
right. You walk into the adjacent private bathroom and everything is
coated in solid gold. Looking into the mirror, you see that you are a middle-aged man, rather geeky, not terribly attractive, but not really repulsive, either. You hear what you assume is your secretary speaking over the phone's intercom: "Mr. Johnson, your lawyer is on the line."
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