This time it was set in an American residential college. Probably quite a prestigious one, given the size of its cafe, which was a favourite haunt of all the students -and was punctiliously managed by enwiabe, with Mao, ninwa and Evangelion Zeta recognisable as his assistants. Anyway, I was a bit of a jerk on several occasions, each time prompting a stern warning from enwiabe and a bit of a sermon from Mao, saying if I'd had the upbringing of a Chinese immigrant, as he had, I'd never have seen fit to behave in such a manner. (I can't recall exactly what I did each time, possibly it was something attention-seeking.) Eventually, enwiabe had had enough, and landed me with a rest-of-semester ban, complete with threats of litigation if I contravened it. Of course, being a daredevil, I soon snuck back in, ordering myself a liqeur coffee and beginning a fascinating discussion with ninwa, EZ and Eriny (a Liberal Arts professor) about how books varied in meaning, interpretation and moral weight as they were translated into different languages. Our discourse was rudely interrupted, however, when enwiabe stormed in, swore I'd be sorry and vindictively fired ninwa and EZ.