Our role in this experiment is unclear. However, we notice that something is amiss with the models of the earth; the axis isn't tilted properly. With gestures, mime, and shrieks we point this out to the scientists, who slap their foreheads and say, "Of COURSE!" They're so happy that they don't notice that we've all slipped out of our cage and scrambled up the stairs to freedom.

Once we get outside, we find ourselves in the front yard of the house that I grew up in, in suburban Kansas City. It's January, it's freezing, and there's snow on the ground, punctuated by a few visible patches of yellow-brown grass. On the street we see a low-riding gold Chevy Nova (not unsimilar to one my sister had in the mid-'80s). We pool the money we've got between us and realize we've got enough to drive to Mexico.