A tall insect with feathery antennae and a nervous tic paused before the mirror of a machine plastered with multicolored blurbs announcing it as a dispenser of a popular brand of chewing gum. The walking nightmare spoke to its human companion, “Harry, you wait with the bags, there’s a good fellow.” Evenly modulated tones carried the force of a command. The pair wore the colors of Adepts of the Fourteenth Circle.

The man, clothed in a long yellow robe that hung about him like a portable beach cabana, arranged their luggage in a semicircle about his feet, destination and routing tags facing in, nearest him. The names on the tags were not theirs. The man’s head was tilted back like a doll with a broken neck; he could have been studying the ceiling.

The insect, a beewolf, was likewise clothed in a flowing yellow robe; it bought a packet of Wint-O-Pep and spoke to the mirror. “I am a confidence operator. But I am losing my confidence.” Although slightly slurred, the insect's words were framed and chosen to reflect impeccable manners and good breeding.