Sam Rogers' Books

He stood on the edge of a five hundred foot drop. Spread out before him, undulating in the rising heat, were mountains, mesas, canyons, arroyos, plains, and a river turned back by an earthen dam to form a sprawling lake. The focal point in this composition was Obsidian, the ridge-topped peak that was the remnant of a volcano that had erupted in prehistory, propelling its lava out in a thousand mile radius. 

Obviously, I admit my crime. As Jack Ruby discovered, the presence of television cameras at a murder significantly reduces the amount of ambiguity that defense attorneys can throw around during legal proceedings to befuddle the jurors. The crime took place before the bulging eyes of the wealthiest and most influential citizens of Washington State. They became material witnesses and that made my trial as illustrious a social event as the charity ball at which the assassination occurred. Notice that I used the word “assassination.” Remember that, because it will give you some insight into my justification for bringing about such a horrendous event. I did not take a human life without cause and, even though I am willing to submit to justice, I think that my reasons for transgressing the law might warrant the commutation of my sentence to imprisonment until such time as my life is overtaken by natural events, such as the cardiac illnesses and cancers that do in most people.

With a flick of my left wrist, I allow the mountains to continue in being, under the cloud-mottled sky, above the extended heave of land across the water. I move my fingers to conjure up a few sailboats, some fishing boats, and a container ship. With my right hand, I keep the trees and the hillsides going in an intricate dance of leaves and branches, trunks and earth. A glance above me creates a descending jet, and a smaller plane glides by at a perpendicular angle to the first aircraft and at a lower altitude. Yes, this is what I’m talking about. This is all good, even when it’s not.