[Ed.: Everything has changed. Before, there was the future but now even that has changed and what was beyond the future is today. Harper is back in Ottawa heading another minority. It's seems like what we see around us. Something like Tantrama revisited.]

The two men walk towards each other down a long dark hallwall early in the morning. The new cabinet has not been announced but each knows their part. They stop and talk.

"Morning, Jim"

"Morning, Stephen. Had a good look at the new recruits yet?"

"Yes, plenty of good faces from your area as well as out west but still I don't know what to do about east of Ottawa. We are almost as weak there as the Grits are west of Toronto...or north or east for that matter." Much hearty man-in-a-suit laughter ensues.

"At least we picked up that seat in Tantrama, Prime Minister. No Danny Williams magic there. That could prove quite useful. Any idea about this Cleatus Morris fellow?"

"Well, we have done some more research. He was something of a last minute switch on the ballot - but he seems to have played a part in managing that whole mess a few years back. He was Ambassador to Maine for a bit. Hydrofoils! Could you believe the Grits were funding hydrofoils?"

"Those were strange days, Stephen."

"And do you know what is even stranger? Apparently someone in his office has submitted something called a "Gravel Load Delivery Application" setting out which houses are to receive dump truck loads of gravel in his riding?"

"What!"

"This could be a strange session coming up. You know they are going to expect a Ministry for Tantrama, Jim." The hallway goes quiet. Somewhere a keyboard is being tapped. "What the hell am I going to give the guy?"

"That's why you're the boss, Stephen," he says as the two men part with something near another laugh. "That's why you're the boss," he repeated as they parted, the words echoing with their footsteps.