SID BLENDS IN

He sat alone in the penthouse in downtown LA where he lived, holding the letter he'd intercepted. Bridgid was inviting yet
another friend to come join their community in Australia. He frowned. The Glen? Sounded like a batch of losers who
couldn't quite escape from Brigadoon. Yet still...nearly all of his counterparts seemed to be pulling up roots and moving
there lock, stock, and barrel. But he had not been invited.

Crumpling the letter in one perfectly-manicured hand, he aimed it with absolute precision at a stainless steel wastebin
on the far side of the room. Australia? He'd never really given a hoot about the place. Wasn't it supposed to be mostly
red dirt coated with poisonous spiders and snakes? Yet, from what he'd heard, even the great General himself had
recently taken up residence.  He went to the plate glass wall of his living room that overlooked the city, staring for a long
time at the red ribbons the tail lights of thousands of cars made on the night-wet streets.

Soundlessly then, for he moved with the grace of a hunting cat, he went to the trashbin and retrieved the letter. One needed
an invitation, did one? Well, he just happened to have that very thing right in his hand.

He would need a suitable residence were he to grace the Glennites with his presence. One needed one's creature comforts
even in Australia, probably especially in Australia. Seated again on his black leather sofa, he picked up the remote that
controlled the full-wall computer to his right. Quickly he scrolled through house plans, discarding one after another. He'd
seen photographs of the homes the current Glen residents had chosen, all cutsy wutsy English cottages or rustic country abodes
for the most part. He had other requirements for a suitable home. Always he had lived in one penthouse or another, here in LA
or in New York City, London, Athens, etc.  Never, though, had he had a single-unit residence of his own. It was about time.
And the Glennites needed him there. They just didn't know it yet.

Ah, there at last! He found what he was looking for. He would arrange for its construction right in the center of The Glen. "Like
its belly button!" he chuckled, pleased with the concept of its hubness. There would be no flowers around it, no approaching walkways
or lanes. It would simply sit there on the lawn as though dropped from the sky. Yes, that would be perfect. He liked perfect,
being that himself in every way. He would let the Glennites think the invitation had found its way into the right hands and that the
construction was theirs. Not till it was complete would he arrive in person. Yes, that, too, was perfect. He smiled. And from the
map he was looking at onscreen, the General lived just over the rise. Sometimes things worked out even better than simply
perfect.