I was a rich and powerful man, and I was hosting an importance conference about something that did not pertain to me. I knew all the participants (government? U.N.? business?), but their meeting did not concern me.

During a session in a particular room, someone was shot, and a pall fell over the concert. I became like a private investigator, freely looking into what happened. It was very mysterious. Then, when it seemed the same thing could not happen again, during another session, there was a smokescreen that hid the killing of someone else. They were taking more sophisticated measures to obscure the killing, although the first still remained utterly mysterious. No one had seen or heard anything; the victim had simply been shot and died.

I went to investigate the second murder; I was not a suspect, and until now everyone had treated me with great deference. But even though I was allowed into the room, there was a wooden bar across the doorway that made it too small for me to fit through. It was one of those moments when you realize bitterly that your status has changed.