We are all puppets on an unseen string. Someone wrote the play, but neglected to give us the script. On the surface we are all jerked around like here and now creatures. Our brains collect memories and our eyes see objects in the hope that we can divine the future, but the future doesn’t extrapolate exactly from the past. We hunger for something new and exciting but cannot escape the string. We think, but realize nothing. Perhaps, in time, The Second Lady will give us a hint.