Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway.

After a carefully judged amount of time she stood up and retied the bow at her waist.

"Sure, you stood me up at prom, Adam," she said, "but THIS is for calling my dissertation 'feeble-minded and a stunning waste of recycled pulp' in front of my advisor."

She retrieved her bike and stuck a hardbound volume titled "AN OPTIMIZED PROGRAMMABLE BINARY ARCHITECTURE FOR A SCALABLE DIGITAL THEOREM ITERATOR" into the handlebar basket.

Then, whistling, she hiked up her skirts, straddled the seat, and biked off into the sunset.

In the distance, a voice said, "What the-- GODDAMMIT."