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professional humiliation. The depressing facts about Peterson’s life to that point were that few people knew who he was, and even fewer cared that he existed. Peterson was a nobody. His life for twenty years was one of bondage and obscurity in a black hole called the smalltime. Still, Peterson believed that he was a somebody—a somebody that the world stubbornly refused to revere or even acknowledge.
    Peterson recently experienced a powerful personal vision. He described it as “an awakening that will morph into my own personal epiphany.” That’s how he chose to spin it. A more accurate version of his vision: Twenty years in his decrepit office, staring at his sad surroundings and rigging the numbers finally got to him. He was desperate. He had to make a move, and his move had to be dramatic. It had to catapult him out of the depths of his dark pit where few could see him and all could look down on him. He longed to be up, seated majestically on his perch, so that all could behold and admire him. With no other options available to him, Peterson began a campaign last February that he believed would deliver him to the liberty and prominence available in the bright lights of big–time public notoriety.
    It actually worked. In eleven short months, Peterson did what he had been unable to do in twenty years: He succeeded at something. His campaign culminated with tonight’s acceptance speech to the annual convention of the American Conservative Consortium. These ACC people are amazing. They bought Peterson’s numbers without checking his math. They now own his story and he owns theirs. Peterson is their hero, and they are his admirers and followers.
    As I write this, Peterson is addressing the ACC as its newly–elected president. He is now officially out of his black hole. As he speaks, the bright spotlights of the auditorium shine only on him. His new disciples here tonight are listening intently to his proclamations.
    Tonight’s acceptance speech caps Peterson’s coronation ceremonies, begun three days earlier, and officially kicks off his three–year term. He began his riveting speech fifty–two minutes ago after ACC’s outgoing president, the Rev. Dr. James Vernon Wilder IV, laid hands on him and prayed a special prayer of blessing on him and his coming three–year term.
    Sydney Albert, my boss at the United States Federal Intelligence Agency, is sick of hearing my repeated warnings about Peterson. Albert considers Peterson to be harmless. I disagree. Perhaps to appease me and shut me up, Albert told me to go ahead and attend Peterson’s coronation ceremonies, especially tonight’s speech. Albert instructed me to keep an eye on Peterson and his new flock, and report back to him with what he undoubtedly hopes will be my final report on Peterson.
    After I submit my report, Albert will probably spend an hour or so of his time listening to me ramble while acting interested in my report and in what I have to say to explain it. He’ll file away my report in some archive at a remote USFIA office, then get on with what he feels is the truly important work of the USFIA—work that does not include concerns about Peterson. Albert will then be satisfied that he allowed a junior agent of the USFIA to voice his opinions, regardless of how outrageous those opinions seem to be.
    I have made it known that I suspect that Peterson has evil motives. I have already written several reports to my superiors and peers alike at the USFIA in which I stated that I believe that Peterson might position himself to seize more power and influence well beyond that of the presidency of the ACC. I wrote that Peterson demonstrates the early signs of a person with the potential to one day mount a revolution against the United States. No one listened to me. The gossip in the office was that I was right about Peterson, but someone at the very top was for Peterson and against me, so my opinions about Peterson were to be quietly set aside while I