[Camera opens on the sky. Although that's not what the marquis would call it: something more like a canopy. It's beautiful in the way that a tiger's beautiful, it might kill you if you get too close, as the Barge so often does.]

[He's on deck, obviously, and humming something that sounds like a funeral dirge. Odd words are thrown in, "blue ribbons" and "married" and "grave was green", so when he stops after thirty seconds or so and barks out a laugh, it has the potential to be jarring. He really doesn't like music much.]

Polls are taken regularly, it seems. So tell me, Barge: what is worth dying for? Caveats to follow.

First, don't say the people you love. Everyone says that. Most people think they are supposed to, when in fact it's a pat answer that is almost always a lie. Dogs jump into wells after their masters. People do not.

Second, don't say for your country. Your country doesn't care. Very few places are sentient enough to have feelings on an individual's devotion, and none of you are interesting enough to have come from one.

So go on, then. Impress me with your idealism.

[There's the sound of him settling back, like a king on a throne. The floor is open. Entertain him.]