And he was photographed wearing gold chains in Vegas, his arm slung around the upper thigh of the much-taller Tom Cruise (whose head ended up cropped in the photo).

Tinyman was the favored candidate among scientologists, although he had no idea who they were. Tinyman appears confident in the photo with Cruise, but just before it was taken, when Tinyman was pulled onstage in front of the staged audience to pose making various powerful and victorious handgestures, before giving his now barely-remembered "Vegas is the cultural center of Nevada" speech, Tinyman had been sitting alone at a bar wondering what the purpose of things was. And before that he had blown all the spending money his handlers had given him—all $20—playing a lousy video strip poker game.

And he had been sitting, thinking. And drinking until he believed that the cocktail olive itself was talking to him. For Tinyman was troubled because, at a deeper level, he understood (as the olive explained) that there was a systemic disorder at work in the world, and that no matter how hard Tinyman might work (and he hoped to avoid such work altogether, truth be told) at saving lives by, for example, rescuing people from natural disasters or crime or accidents, he would only be eradicating the symptoms of a deeper, shall we say, malaise, or illness (problem).

What was necessary, the talking cocktail olive explained, was to save the entire human race. Nothing less.

Tinyman nodded in agreement. The prospect made him deeply weary, actually.