Shine A Light

So, it's the Rolling Stones to Toronto's emotional rescue? Well, that says maybe.

Okay, I know this was the brainchild of local MP Dennis Mills, but I kind of like to imagine the decision-making process to have gone something like this instead:

The scene: a dark, rainy night in Toronto. Inside Metro City Hall, the office of Mayor Mel Lastman, where we find the diminutive former furniture salesman seated behind his enormous oak desk in a deluxe executive high-backed leather chair ($799.47 at Bad Boy Furniture). He is sitting as far back in the chair as possible, engulfed by its generously padded back and arms, his legs sticking straight out, barely reaching past the chair's edge.

The seal of the city is mounted on the wall behind and above him, with the gold-embossed motto: "Please Like Us."

Lastman's head is propped up on his right hand, his index finger on his temple, brow furrowed as he watches Toronto Police Chief Julian Fantino pacing a trench in the faux-Persian rug ($1200.99 at Bad Boy) in front of Lastman's desk.

"Mr. Mayor, we're at our wits' end," Chief Fantino says, his voice rising with exasperation. "This SARS thing has really hurt the city. Large conferences have been canceled. High-profile concerts have been canceled. Hollywood stars and film shoots are relocating elsewhere. The number-crunchers over at the Tourism Board are telling me that revenues for the city will be significantly down this summer. It's a mess Mr. Mayor. We've got to do something!"

Lastman flutters his hands toward the 10-foot-high windows. "But these people in Zurich and New York, and...and...wherever...just don't seem to understand! It's perfectly safe to come here. We haven't had a new case of SARS in over two months!"

"Well, it actually hasn't been that long, Mr. Mayor," Fantino says patiently, with a hint of fatigue, "but, yes, the disease does appear to be under control."

"Maybe I should go on CNN again, andó"

"óNO!" Fantino abruptly interrupts, lunging suddenly toward the mayor's desk, then recaptures his composure and straightens up. "Er, I mean, no Mr. Mayor, that's perhaps not the best idea at this time...uh, so soon after your last appearance. Wouldn't want people getting sick of you," he adds with a forced chuckle.

"No, we wouldn't want that," the mayor agrees solemnly. The room is quiet but for the dull thud of Irony hitting the hard-wood floor. Fantino's pupils dart to the corners of his eyes, in the direction of the sound, but his head remains stationary. He bites the inside of his mouth.

The mayor is silent for a moment as he ponders the options. Once again, the future of the city has fallen on his shoulders. His eyes wander over to the silver-framed photo of his wife Marilyn smiling at him from the far edge of his desk; over to the other side of the desk to the smaller, hand-made wood-framed photo of his illegitimate sons from an affair he had with a woman many years ago; on to Chief Fantino's shoes. Nice shoes, he thinks. Italian leather? Yeah, probably. Fantino. That's Italian, right? Yeah. Makes sense.

The mayor feels tired. It's his last term, having made the decision to retire, and his creative juices are drier than a... drier than a...oh, something that's usually pretty dry.

Lastman's eyebrows suddenly arch up toward his brillo-pad scrub of hair, which rushes to meet them with the zeal of a cult looking for new recruits. With his gaze still fixed on Fantino's shoes, he announces with a mixture of decisiveness and resignation:

"Well, in that case Chief, there's only one thing we can do."

He raises his head and locks eyes with Fantino. The Chief nods knowingly.

Fantino moves toward the window, where an object about the size of a bread box sits chest-high atop a brass pedestal. It's covered by a black, leather hood emblazoned with the words "For Official Use Only". The Chief pulls off the cover, revealing what looks like a search lamp, and swivels it to point out the window. He flips a switch and a beam of light slices out into the night, painting the dark, rainy sky with a startling imageóa sign to all in the city that help is on the way. And a beacon to alert the ones who alone can help the city in its hour of need, that their assistance is required.

...This image.

The city is saved.