The Art of Rails®

Chapter 4. Getting the Most from M, V, and C

The bus continued down the road and eventually onto a bumpy highway. Between the hum of the wheels and the grain of the road shaking his seat, Web began fighting to keep his eyes open, and before he knew it...

"Excuse me," said a frail voice, its owner tapping him softly on the shoulder.

Web opened his eyes, momentarily confused about where he was. He looked with the distant gaze of interrupted sleep at the elderly man who must have taken the seat next to him.

"I'm sorry to wake you. Your head was getting heavy on my shoulder, and you were drooling on my coat."

Web blinked and felt consciousness returning to him. He hadn't even seen the man get on.

"I'm terribly sorry," he said suddenly as the ability to speak clicked in. "It's been a long week. I'll try my best to use the window."

And then, to try to redeem himself, he said, "I'm the World Wide Web, you know."

"That's nice," the man smiled through his thick bifocals. "I thought you looked like a Jeffrey."

Web gazed out at the road passing by and thought of his week at the retreat. Everything had been so regimented, yet it all seemed to work together smoothly. The more he learned how to fall into their pattern of doing things, the less he found himself distracted by the day-to-day worries that had once kept him busy.

It was still a ways before Web's stop: the protest down in the Big City. The members at his new camp said they were pleased at how well he understood their beliefs, and they wanted ...