"Hell yeah, they rushed the room."

  The mother kept patting the baby's bottom. 

  "What's happening?" 

  "We need someone to interpret." 

  "But they were speaking Englush." 

  The photographic facts were hauling in behind narrative which had almost jeopardized "saving the world". 

  Oh man. 

  Is this the fiasco? 

  "Cut the tape.  Cut the 

  "DO NOT." 

  "Just gimme the low down." 

  "I will.  I will show you to the elevator." And they walked that way while the young man sent to git the info confessed that he had not come up that way.  The elevator doors opened.  "There's more coming up the stairs!" An impeccable professional beamed a permasmile unless. 

  "Okay.  Okay.  Now I know what's going on." The mama recounted in brief style the salient points of the thread of news having to do with "the blue dress" and the anger and outrage forming around:  Then I was kind of afraid.  To apply. 

  "Pretend there's a glass box around you, uh, us."  And, it wasn't all that hard to do since the people enacting "the drama" in front of us weren't us.  We knew who they were, and we knew about their different "masks" as "actors", and we knew that most of us had been putting our best foot forward!  

  But like a spool of thread on a sewing machine and us getting settled into "roles" and possibly "careers" as the point of "the truth" the automation/animation of group took over.