Julius Mortimer pours himself bourbon on the rocks. Stocks are slightly up, unemployment depressingly stagnant, yet his bank stubbornly continues to expand net profits. He feels some empathy for those hit by relatively hard times, and yet relief that he’s making a good, comfortable living. Oddly, in his favorite room of the house he now stands in, he allows no chairs or sofas. Besides a hefty bookcase and glass coffee-table, the room seems bare.
Suddenly he puts the drink down and spreads his arms out, stretching his fingertips. On his face settles a look of comfortable ecstasy. He can now relax. The soles of his shoes slowly rise, inch by inch, off the plush carpet into the air. He bends his legs slowly until he is “sitting” but on nothing. Still he climbs higher. Soon he leans backward until he is totally reclined. He smiles then, forgetting all the tension of his day.