This short story presents a rather dry and ironic take on humanity, who is genuinely unable to live under the guidance of a benevolent dictatorship - who longs for freedom rather than peace and prosperity. Ludovick Eversole sat in the golden sunshine outside his house, writing a poem as he watched the street flow gently past him. There were very few people on it, for he lived in a slow part of town, and those who went in for travel generally preferred streets where the pace was quicker.
