As I was saying, I was sitting at my Executive Office in the CECO, doing some very important work when this grave news came across my ever-so-powerful desk, and I stopped moving worlds and building civilizations for just a moment to take the time to report to you what is indeed some very important information.

And as I sit here, on the 38th floor, overlooking the masses of cars, buildings, airplanes, and people all around me, the full comprehension of this grave news overwhelms me. For these small moments -- I, with all my worlds and glamor and begonstednitch of reality, am as you are, as the common man, where the toils of labor and the families of many are taken into my rich body, energizing it to a point of total dispersion into the reality of the common American.

And as I sit here, the last this eve in the CECO except for the odd janitor and security guard, all alone in ths vast concrete, glass, and steel pinnacle towering over the men who built it, the men who toiled and died to construct it, and their children and wives who adore and ignore it, I am as mortal and small as any.

And as I sit here, with this message in my hand, to be read to all, to be heard by all, is as a trivial flyer blown through the freeway backwind. Will they comprehend it? Will they even read it? Will they, above all, take heed?