The sun's bright rays poured into the boy's room through the closed shades in slanted beams,
as he laded there on his bed and listened plaintively to the steady tick-tick of the old clock in the next room.
He looked around at the small treasures that he'd accumulated in his room. Well. They were treasures to him, but his mother preferred to think of it as junk. There was an assortment of plastic spaceships on his nightstand along with a few action figures. Among them was a space traveler who went by the name Buck Rogers.
Tick-tick. Went the clock.
He rubbed his palms together until the secreted sticky sweat. When will it be time? He asked himself.
To pass the time he pulled out his favorite flashlight and began to wave it about in no particular fashion, then he looked to the beams of light coming through his shades. What if . . . He thought. What if my flashlight was a kind of sword that you could turn on and off? He thought, the idea was an intriguing one which caused a whole field of ideas to spring up in his mind. Along with a universe of questions. Questions he'd have to answer, if he wanted to.
He looked to Buck Rogers and thought; What if you were a wanted smuggler?
An abrupt pounding on his door suddenly pulled him out of his imagination followed by an all to familiar voice that said; "George honey. Your Father's here to take you to the races now. Get ready."
Finally! He thought and scurried to the closet.
"Be there in a minute Mom." He called back.
"Sir. Sir?" The man's voiced called. George opened his eyes to see the face of his young secretary. "Yes?" he said in a somewhat choked up voice stretching a little in the leather chair in his office. He looked out the wide window a moment to to see a sprawling city stretching out to the horizon, or so it seemed. He turned back to his secretary who said; "The contract has arrived, they'd like you to sign now." The young man pulled out a clipboard with several sheets of paper. Sitting up he took this, finally after briefly scrolling though the text full of First Party, Second Party agreements he found the blank line at the bottom of the page destined for his name.
The secretary reached for the ballpoint pen in his shirt pocket only to be stopped short.
"I've got this." The elder man ensured as he pulled out a ballpoint pen of his own and scribbled his first and last name onto the paper.
A much more elegant weapon, for a more civilized age. He thought as he added the final curve to the S followed by a period. He gave his name, his title, one last look before handing the clipboard back. "Thank you." The young man said as he marched out admiring the name of his superior. George Lucas. it read.
George couldn't help but smile as he watched the man leave the lavished room and thought, Much to learn you still have.
