Gary was a scientist. Not a normal scientist. He didn’t wear a fancy lab coat, instead he wore a goofy jumpsuit from the 80s. He was as arrogant as an overbearing politician. He was trying to prove that gravity wasn’t real. He lived in a bright pink cottage covered in graffiti. Every night at exactly 21:56 he would tilt his head upwards and stare into nothingness. As the years passed the people of St. Louis built a roundabout there. In a fit of rage, Gary let a roar out of him. Haughtily, he would stand there, tilting his head upwards and never moving.