"Welcome, my Lord Ambassadors! For your first gift, may I present you with the Key?" ((Is it strictly necessary. We have miles to go, and promises to keep.)) "Ah! To be sure. But--it is not merely for show, great Workers." ((Very well then. What does it unlock.)) "Itself, first and last. Everything else, in between." ((We have heard such claims. Is this worth doing.)) "I cannot say, ultimately. Only you, my Lords, are truly capable of answering all the questions you ask." ((True enough. Demonstrate.)) "Very good! This is the code with which it activates itself. It is what it calls a 'mix.'" All along Your Mercury mouth I left without my hat. ((())) "My Lords?" ((())) "Have I offended thee!" (((mmm...no.))) "Ah!" (((Tell us...how many turns does it take to open.))) "That, again, only ye shall answer. But, it is every song the key has teeth for, every one its maker ever found, and will find. For they call him, 'King of the Road.' " ((You forget: we have a schedule.)) "Yes, yes...I am sorry, I did forget. For my memory is but a flicker, like my life. It is you who hover eternal." ((Do not grovel. Our lives are very long, compared to yours, it is true.)) "So it is, and shall be. Then as I leave, I leave this ." ((Very well. One good turn of such a key deserves another.)) Thus, around the flagpole they are turning, in an instant of their time, while generations pass through the turnstiles of the Ticketmaster, still pleased to see our King.   ¶ 11/17/2004