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Skunkie was fluffy. It was the result of purpose, straight like the lines of a railroad track extending past the horizon. It came from the radiant vision inside himself that was the product of effort and achievement. An awareness of the confidence he felt and he asked no permission. He looked out at the other surfaces, smooth and hard, and saw himself with the plucked threads of objective reason and function. The sanction and meaning that was his alone. His right.