"Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a fly on the wall?" Walt and Corey were walking on a path that snaked its way through a forest with trees so tall they stretched beyond sight, seemingly into the clouds above.
"You mean like in one of those science-fiction movies, where a man shrinks down to microscopic proportions?" Corey recalled having once seen a movie based on that premise, which he thought had been a Disney production, though at that moment he couldn't for the life of him remember the title.
"Yeah, like that. To be able to fly into a room unnoticed, perch on a wall, and eavesdrop on people. Have you ever wondered what that would be like?"
"No, Walt, I really can't say that I have—at least not seriously enough to try and concoct weird shrinking potions in our experimental kitchen."
"Hmmm." Walt shoved his hands deeper into his pockets as they walked along. "I have."
"You've wondered what it would be like to be a fly on the wall?"
"No. I've been a fly on the wall. It's wonderfully entertaining— and if you're in the right room, you can learn a lot as well. Would you like to try it?"
Corey shook his head and laughed. "No, I don't think so. My wife says that I should lose a little weight, but I don't think turning myself into a bug is what she has in mind. Besides, I have a mortal fear of flyswatters."
"You've got to put your hands in your pockets."
"You've got to stick your hands in your pockets ...