One time I was talking down the street and I saw Jason Roberts leap a tall curb with a single bound. No joke. He barely broke a sweat under that tweed cap. Then he shot rainbow beams from his eyes that turned all the concrete into an organic garden tended by underprivileged children who tend hives of stingerless bees that produce honey from locally sourced pollen. Then everyone spontaneously joined hands and sang melodic indie pop while Roberts mounted his unicorn and ascended to the urban utopia from which he came.
Along the way he saw Barack Obama, who is impressed by anyone who can tame a unicorn and the sheer volume of tweed, and who invited Roberts to the White House and promised to make up an award to give him. Roberts was sidetracked when he traveled to a parallel universe by street car for a climactic battle against his arch-nemisis, Mixmaster. He finally made it up to the district today, where he was named a Champion of Change for his transportation work.
But his work is not yet done. The Third Temple hasn't yet been built, nor has the street car network that will connect it to surrounding mixed-use developments. It is written. At least we thought it was, somewhere. It has been now, anyways.
