“An integrated and alphabetized naming system, Wallace, that’s what we need.”

“Alphabatized?”

“Precisely,” replied Dominic.  “It shall be quite an entertaining process, I’m sure.  
Furthermore, it will provide us with a simple method of identification of class-type 
without having to memorize random jumbles of letters and numbers.  One letter, one 
number; that’s all.  And best of all, it’s something that everybody in the world should be 
able to understand, assuming they know the alphabet…”

“It sounds practical, sir, but you’ve said the same thing about the other 87 possibilities.”  
Wallace couldn’t help but add a hint of annoyance to his tone of voice.  Although he 
thought that an alphabetized system would be a practical idea, as he had just said, he 
really didn’t care what naming system they established for their cargo ships, crawlers, 
and the like.  He had been perfectly happy with naming the ships after famous religious 
reformers.  He also had been happy with the Uzdefrian pottery theme.  He simply didn’t 
care about names any more.  All he cared about at the moment was making a decision on 
a system- for it had to be a system with Dominic- so he could stop twiddling his pen, start 
heading for home for the night, and finally get some sleep.  For Thursdays were the only 
nights that Wallace ever went to bed before the nineteenth hour (every other day of the 
week sported one of his favorite TV shows at that time), and he couldn’t help but notice 
that it was half past the seventeenth hour; if he was going to get to bed by nineteen, he’d 
have to be eating supper at eighteen and leaving the office in fifteen minutes.  It was a 
stressful life.  

“If I’m correct, we’ve only brainstormed 69, Wallace.”

“That’s not the point,” he mumbled, just quiet enough to be inaudible.  This was 
ridiculous.

“And that would mean less paint on the spaceships, a reduction in shrink, and a slight 
increase in profitability when compared to most of our other concepts.”

“Yes, sir, it would.  So, how ‘bout it?  Wanna make it official?  Or are we gonna sit here 
for several more hours makin’ next to no progress?”  asked McTeigue sarcastically.

“Eh, I’m not exactly sure yet…”

“We’ve been here brainstorming for three hours, sir.”

“That long?”  Dom’s surprised face shot to the clock, calculated, then turned back to 
Wallace, bearing an embarrassed smirk.  “Well, I suppose if we really hate the system, 
we can still change it even after we write it down on the form for the manufacturer.  What 
are phones and computers for?”

“Precisely, sir.  Now, if I could get out of here in, uh, ten minutes, I’d really appreciate it, 
sir.  I can just make it home in time.”  Dom still didn’t look completely satisfied.  “What 
now?”

“I don’t know…,” Dom drawled out, “It, it just doesn’t seem creative enough.  You know 
what I mean, right Wallace?  There’s a lack of spirit to something so basic and banal…  
Oh!  What if-“

“Forgive me, Dom, but really, I thought you wanted it to be simple.  Simple.  Not 
somethin’ complex that only you and Devon will understand.  Not something to make 
you chuckle yourself to sleep.  You just said a minute ago that you liked the idea of 
understandable and simple.”

“Well, yes, but-“

“But what about all of those jumbles,” he paused, “of random,” and now snapping to 
remember the last part, “that need…  memorization?”  Wallace put his head in his hand 
in frustration.  This was impossible.

“Oh.  Right.”  Dominic seemed downcast, as if he just found out that tomorrow wasn’t 
Christmas.  “Well, I guess you have a good point…”

“It was your idea, sir,” McTeigue attempted a weak smile.

“Right…” he paused uncomfortably, “yeah… it was.”  Dom tossed his head back and 
forth, as if trying to ward off a new inspiration.  After some hair tussling and tapping on 
the desk, he suddenly leaped to his feet.  Wally wasn’t startled, though; this happened all 
the time.  “Okay, Wallace.  We’ll go with the alphabet system.  It’s final.  Thank you, 
shake hands, have a nice night, get a good sleep, and leave before I change my mind 
again.”

Wallace finally brightened his mood.  He was free at last!  “Yes, sir,” he replied with 
enthusiasm, “yes, sir.”  Wallace immediately snatched Kirkford’s coat from the rack and 
handed it to him anxiously.  “Now get on home to the family and have a good night.”

“Thank you, Wallace.  I’ll get the door.”  

As McTeigue passed through the threshold and turned to his Neon for a quick ride home, 
he heard a sigh.  Without turning, he simply said, “Forget it.  You’ve made a decision; 
it’s a good one.”

“But, what alphabet should we use?”

McTeigue could barely hold in the surprise and irritation.  “English!” he shouted, and 
slammed his car door.  “What else?” he cried to himself as he began backing out of the 
parking lot.  “Why does there always have to be another way?”