- Psst, c'mere - said the shifty-eyed man wearing a long black trenchcoat, as he beckoned me off the rainy street into a damp dark alley. I followed.
- What are you selling?
- Geometrical algebra drugs.
- Huh!?
- Geometry drugs. Ya got your uppers, your downers, your sidewaysers, your inside-outers...
- Stop right there - I interrupted.
- I've never heard of inside-outers.
- Oh, man, you'll love 'em. Makes you feel like M.C. ever-lovin' Escher on a particularly weird day.
- Go on...
- OK, your inside-outers, your arbitrary bilinear mappers, and here, heh, here are the best ones - he said, pulling out a large clear bottle of orange pills.
- What are those, then?
- Givens transformers. They'll rotate you about more planes than you even knew existed.
- Sounds gross. What about those bilinear mappers?
- There's a whole variety of them. Here's one you'll love -- they call it 'One Over Z' on the street. Take one of these little bad boys and you'll be on speaking terms with the Point at Infinity.