The tiny tyrant Miss Planner was prone to fits of creative mania. In these rare but inspired moments, she would sequester herself away and mess around with some fanciful little project for days, weeks, or even months on end until she was satisfied with the result. She was a girl with a fertile imagination and a relentless work ethic. Sadly, most of her incredible ideas were completely impractical and pursuing them was, quite frankly, a waste of her precious time.

Miss Planner would have lived a much better life had she simply followed her grandmother's advice and become an artist or a poet. Indeed, when she was younger, she wanted to become a children's author. She filled up notebooks with cute little pictures and wrote nonsensical stories full of whimsical characters like 'the Human Extraterrestrial.' Although her attention turned towards more serious matters as she got older, she never lost her weakness for childish indulgences.

The most recent object of her fascination was psychic plastics. She couldn't seem to make the stuff behave how she wanted it to, but that was beside the point. Being able to work with it at all was thrilling enough. Now that the Chosen Ones were starting to get their finances under control, Miss Planner finally had the freedom to devote her full attention to her pet project without feeling too guilty about it. She still met her professional obligations as the Chosen Ones' general manager, but only barely.

Miss Planner had been completely obsessed with the concept of a full-body suit of psychic armor ever since one of her analysts, Gordon, mentioned the idea offhandedly in a meeting three months ago. He didn't really think it was a workable concept; it was just a thought experiment. But Miss Planner couldn't get the idea out of her head. She was very skilled at working with psychic materials, and took great pride in the incredibly humanlike soul vessels she crafted for her small army of psychic puppets. If anyone was going to create a functioning suit of armor made of psychic materials, it would be her.

In her dimly lit office on the top floor of the Tower of the Chosen, Miss Planner sat hunched over a blue plastic sheet covered with dozens of colorful hunks of plastic and metal imbued with the aura of the Ancient Race, a straight razor in one hand and a thick black marker in the other. Her blonde hair was messy and unkempt, tied into a loose ponytail with a thin black piece of string. She was wearing a gray skirt and a blouse. Noticeably absent were her usual black jacket, tights, and makeup- she didn't even have shoes on. If it wasn't for the fact that careless people frequently entered her office without knocking, she would have been tempted to work in her underwear.

Driven by her intense need to finish her project, Miss Planner hadn't found the time to shower, change her clothes, or brush her hair in days. She was in a truly wretched state. The strain of working with her mind all day was taking a visible toll on her, and she was starting to slip. Her thoughts came slowly now, and every moment she had to struggle to remember what she was doing just a moment before.

"Ah!"

Miss Planner let herself get distracted at a critical moment, and sliced the tip of her finger open with a razor blade. The sharp pain brought her out of her trance.

Miss Planner sucked on the cut, tasting blood. Tears welled up in her icy blue eyes. Her heart was pounding so hard that she thought it might explode. A dark calmness crept over her as she leaned back against her desk and let out a shuddering sigh.

"I'm such an idiot," muttered Miss Planner to nobody in particular. "I need to... be more careful. I need to slow down. I have all the time in the world."

She stood and stretched, extending her arms above her head and arching her back, moving her shoulders and twisting at the waist as if she were being strangled. Then she grabbed the sides of her desk and stretched her legs out as far as they would go.

"That... feels better. There's too much to do, too much to do... too much to do... I need to bandage this up. Ouch."

Miss Planner securely tied a cloth bandage around her injured finger. The cut really wasn't all that serious, but it did sting quite a bit. There wasn't anything that could be done about it. She knew that. But she couldn't help but feel frustrated. She wanted to scream.

"My finger hurts... and I'm hungry... I'm going to go eat something."

The tiny blonde tyrant slid her loafers on and slowly stumbled out of her office. She took the elevator down to her favorite place in the Tower of the Chosen, the cafeteria. Unfortunately, steak night was a few days away, so she'd have to settle for something else.

Miss Planner looked over the dinner offerings and decided on a big pepperoni pizza and breadsticks. Also, a small order of fries and a bottled coffee. She took her tray to a table and sat down. The cafeteria was nearly empty, as usual. She didn't mind. She quite enjoyed the peace and quiet. She ate elegantly but without reservation, and within a few minutes her dinner was gone. As she delicately wiped her face with a napkin and drank her coffee, she started to notice that she was feeling slightly better. But what she really wanted was a cigarette.

Miss Planner took the stairs to the ground level and walked outside. It was dark out. The sky was a deep purple, fading into black. A cool wind blew, rustling the nearby trees. The perfect Miss Planner reached into her purse and pulled out a box of Rampage cigarettes and a lighter. She promised herself that after this, she'd go right back to her office and work for at least another three hours. It was entirely possible that she’d force herself to work through the night.