He stood naked above the city, his lean hard body pressing forward, his left leg bent in front of him, taking his weight and about to propel him forward. His right fist was set to drive through any and every barrier, as was his chin and face and forehead. His short, light-brown hair flew back in the wind. The golden tan of his face and body glowed softly in the morning light filtering through the clouds. He had no name and he had many names. To some he was Thought, or Reason; to others Passion, Perseverance, Determination. From the ball of his foot to the top of his brow he was sixty feet tall. He stood atop the slender, silver, fifty-story American Objectivist Building in the center of Dollar-Sign, Ohio, not too far from Pittsburgh.

Amanda walked towards him on the street down below, several blocks away, looking up. “There he is”, she thought, as she turned a corner, “leading me on, pushing me to work harder, to think more clearly, to go after what I want and to let nothing stop me.” She had no name for him at all, just “There he is” and a growing smile in her mind. The clouds behind her in the east broke and scattered, and in time with the increased intensity of her thought, of her renewed self-dedication, he glowed ever more intensely, seemed actually to be running, bursting through invisible forces.

Amanda, having eaten a meager breakfast as part of her plan to save a hundred dollars a week in this, her first “grownup” job, nevertheless walked faster and lighter, the spring of inspiration coiling and tightening through her slender body, her blue eyes clear and sparkling and fierce. She was all set and, of course, ahead of time, for another great day at the office.