Sunlight floods the stage.

DARK POLLUTED MAN: “What is this golden air?”

RADIANT LITTLE GIRL: “It’s what we use for money.”

A bird lands on her upraised palm

BIRD: “You can’t fly through it.”

RADIANT LITTLE GIRL: “You have to cut it into cubes and stack it like bricks.”

DARK POLLUTED MAN (to bird):  “Light is too hard.”

BIRD (to the Dark Polluted Man): “Yes, too hard.”