he entire set-up, with the chains and the
rock, reminded Dr. Jefferies of the myth of
Andromeda, although assuming this was anything
but coincidental was giving the plebeians too much
credit. He doubted even one in the mass up there
knew their Chronos from their Cicero.
union members weren’t listening.
They had kept moving down the
chain: every time they cut off the
top, a new top freshly revealed.
Now Dr. Jefferies was the one in the pit. He was a
dentist, for Christ’s sake. Sure, he had a vacation
home in Cabo and a Lexus, but he worked hard to
get here, harder than any of them. And who the hell
was going to clean their teeth now?
More than the heat or the hunger pains, it sickened
Dr. Jefferies that he once counted himself among
them. How low an estimation of himself he had! The
stupidity was apparent on their faces, leering down
over the guardrail, each one as blank as the next.
He couldn’t help noting the similarity between their
open mouths and those of the dead fish at his feet.
Dr. Jefferies tugged on the chain, but as the masons
were as yet to be cleansed, it remained firmly set
in the rock. A murmur rose in the crowd. Alligator
snouts were now sticking from the waters’ edge. He
looked up at the construction workers and waiters
and cab drivers. You all just wait, he t