The squad of Praetorians marched briskly through the armed camp, forming a phalanx around the ancient wizard in their midst. Soldiers saluted as they passed.

As they approached the emperor's tent, the guards fell back. The wizard walked forward alone, unhurried, through the tent flaps.

The Emperor Constantine stood in ceremonial battle dress at the far end of the tent. His face appeared lined and care-worn. He had slept poorly, perhaps not at all.

Two bodyguards advanced, swords drawn, to force the wizard to his knees. The emperor waved them away.

"We have summoned you, Simon of Cappodocia," Constantine began, "because it is said the gods speak through you."

The old man nodded.

"If you truly have this gift, wizard, first tell us what troubles us." The old man closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he said, "Tomorrow you will cross the Tiber to fight a great battle against your rival Maxentius. Last evening, you had a vision. You seemed to see a cross superimposed over the sun. You believe that with this sign you will defeat Maxentius."

"So," the emperor whispered, astonished, "The gods indeed speak through you! We have told no one of this vision but a Christian priest. He told us the vision was a command to destroy the pagans.

"I am uneasy concerning this course, wizard. I am Pontifex Maximus, leader of the mysteries of Mithras the Sun God. I do not wish to anger the sun! Also, this morning I saw a second vision that I could scarcely comprehend. I seemed to see heretics burned, Jews slaughtered, old women murdered as witches...and myself blamed for it all! I saw the Empire fall..."

"I cannot advise you in this matter, your excellency. The gods must tell you themselves." "And how is such a message to be delivered to me, old man?"

The old man slowly lowered himself to one knee. He extended his left hand, which contained a shining golden box. He opened the box, revealing a dark-colored lozenge cushioned on a bed of satin.

"This is the herb Metanoia, made of natural herbs and plant by-products. Healthy and good tasting, too. Eat it, and Change History."

"CUT!"

The Wizard set the gold box down on the sound stage. The other actors relaxed.

"Billy!" Constantine complained, "Can we do something about this damn scabbard belt? It keeps pinching me in the ass!"

"Before the next take, Steve. I promise. Okay, let's all take five, okay?"

"Well, Solly, what did you think?"

"I don't know, Bill. I just don't know. This Constantine thing seems a little highbrow."

"I'll be honest with you, Solly. Your product only appeals to a limited demographic. People with lots of imagination, people who are looking to find the proverbial Better Way. Our Faces of History ad campaign is ideal for those people. We tell them, hell yeah, you can do better, but only if you pop your little brown pill first."

"So why can't we just show people taking Metanoia right here and now, having visions, and finding solutions to the problems in their lives?"

"You're kidding me, right? We want to get people hooked, not bore them to death! Selling dope is like selling soap. You have to entertain the customer.

"Take that spot you just saw. John Newman put that together; he's one of the best in the business. We want to put it in the art house theaters before indie and foreign films. Entertain them, Solly, entertain them!"

"Yeah, but Bill, this isn't just about entertainment. Metanoia's the only truly visionary drug on the market. It changes people's lives."

Bill shook his head.

"The truth is, you've got a niche product here. Since legalization, the big action's been in stuff that gets you high or chills you out. Your product isn't in either category. It just gives people hallucinations."

"Not hallucinations, Bill. Visions. Holy visions. Visions that connect people with their deeper selves and help them make good decisions in life."

"Yeah. Right. Well, Joe Six Pack doesn't want a meaningful life, Solly. He wants to get stoned. Now, with a few mods to the product, you could really have something..."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I've been thinking. Maybe your chemists could tweak the stuff so it had a little more of the 'what if' factor. You know, 'what if I'd asked out that blond in high school instead of the old bag I'm living with now.' Then you'd have something. You'd get Joe Six Pack on board."

"You mean helping people live in a fantasy world."

"If you want to put it that way."

"Well, I don't know, Bill. That's not the vision we at Heilig Pharmaceuticals had for this product."

"Well, Sol, you just got to ask yourself. How much of this stuff do I really want to sell?"

Sol Koplowicz fell silent. The five minutes were up. The two men walked back to the sound stage.