“Don’t miss the point, though,” said Jesse. “It’s semantics. It’s answering one set of false principals with another set of false principals. We’re not talking about truth anymore when we start using terms that quantify lies.”
“Then how is that these Utopias that you’re talking about,” started Jessica, looking at Muse, “exist at all then?”
“Oh, did I say Utopia?” said Muse, cocking her head to the side, her green eyes lighting up.
“Well, no,” said Jessica. “But you did say that there was a place for everyone.”
“A Utopian vision,” said Jesse.
“Yes, you made it sound as though these people operated from some Utopian vision,” said Jessica.
At that moment the waitress walked up and set down a pitcher of mysterious liquid that kind of foamed, kind of twinkled, and kind of actually laughed at them.
“How rude!” said Jessica.
“Yes, Utopia does tend to mock. It’s rather full of itself.” Said Muse.
“I’d say!” said Jessica, staring sternly at the fluid.
“Do the honors?” asked Jesse, lifting the pitcher of the self-satisfied brew to pour into everyone’s glasses.
The three of them held their glasses aloft, watching mesmerized as the syrup sluiced in. After clinking glasses high in the air, Muse gave them both a bottoms up sign and tipped her glass, draining it completely before setting it back down.
“Mmm. I could get addicted to Utopia.” Jesse said.
“Small doses is best.” Cautioned Muse, dreamily.
“Hey! Guys? I think I got it!” Said Jessica. “Hey!” She stood up, climbed up on the table and started shouting at the top of her lungs.