“You see,” he explained, “It’s about catching a fleeting thought. You have to pin it down before it flies away. Once you have it, you can make it do your bidding.”

“So… ideas are like minions to you?”

“Sort of. More like slaves. I’m not that personable with them.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, quickly becoming more uncomfortable.

“Well, you can have thousands of slaves. They build World Wonders for you, fight wars against your enemies, that sort of thing. Unlike minions. They work directly with you, helping you with experiments or sweeping up the blood. Almost like an equal. Ideas aren’t equals!”

“Huh,” I muttered, not sure what else to say.

Quietly, I paid the waitress for both of our lunches and slipped out.

Back at the meeting hall, my comrades were shouting as usual, raising their fists in collective anger. They hardly saw me come in.

“It worked,” I announced loudly. A hush fell as they turned. “He didn’t recognize me.”

The familiar cry rang out with more zeal than ever.

“Viva La Revolution!”