Some Trees and Some Crackers

Recall a game you played as a child: you put your hands on a tree, close your eyes, and count to one hundred. You open them, turn around, and your friends are gone, so you go home and eat starchy snacks. Alice works in the office that clarifies and enforces corporate policies for the workers that manufacture and distribute such snacks. Because of her efforts, little yellow crackers have, in your mind, become synonymous with "quality." Alice pops her knuckles and the world becomes visible just over the tiny, cheese-flavored horizon of the cracker's edge. Your memories are governed by rules, like any other branch of the company. Alice makes sure everything runs smoothly, the olfactory sensations kick in just so, you open a box of crackers, you feel bark beneath your fingertips, you see a wisp of adolescent fabric shrink from the corner of your vision, and the world of the trees disappears as you count, one, two, three ...