The committee members were all seated on the grass in a semi-circle around Herbert, clutching paper coffee cups and trying to touch as little of the ground as possible.
Herbert, for his part, was reclined back on his elbows, eyes closed against the sun.
On the walk to the park, the questioning man’s fellow members had berated and encouraged him at turns with nothing more than glances or general pats on the back. He had been silently elected their spokesperson, and so he sat in the front row, nearest Herbert’s feet.
“Sir?” he asked once again. “What did you bring us here to tell us?”
“Hmm?” Herbert replied. “I just came here because it was nice. What would I tell you?” he asked, gazing down his nose at the man. Herbert did not sit up.
“You… you had an idea,” the man repeated lamely, his sentence fading to silence as if uncertain or unable to go on.
Herbert sighed and sat up, crossing his legs Indian-style and resting his elbows upon his knees. He leaned towards the man.
“I’ll be perfectly honest. I have no idea what you are talking about,” Herbert replied.
The committee blinked at each other, as well as at the spot of grass a foot in front of Herbert, and at a nearby lightpost as well as an apparently perplexing park bench. No one blinked at Herbert.
“Ex… excuse me? …sir?”
“Who are you people, anyways?” Herbert asked.