I'm on stage. I am a student, arguing with the teacher. The Board of Directors is seated around a conference table, and they are the audience. I must hide. A man offers me a way. He has a syringe that will do something so I can hide. I let him do it. He carries me away in a little box. Now to get me back to normal, he must heat me up. We put "me" in the oven. We watch the temperature carefully. If it gets too hot, I'll be damaged. He says, "If we could push air around her, she'd be safe." I go in search of a fan. I see a man next door sitting by a window holding a fan up to his face. I ask to borrow it. He reluctantly gives me part of it but not the fan part that moves the air. Now I must improvise. I find a hose, made of potatoes and blow through it. Two oval clumps of spaghetti hungrily go for the air. "Me," in a frozen clump, moves back away from it. I don't understand and try to move the hose. The spaghetti follows it, but "I" don't.