Bending and refracting through the gaps in the window blinds, the morning light brought him a dusty glimpse of his reflection in the computer monitor. He could see each of the seven years of monotonous, mind-numbing work in that image like rings in a sawn-down tree. For nearly ten hours a day since September 6, 2005, he had sat behind this desk. That immobility and his stress-induced eating had caused him to grow overweight - obese, according to his wunderkind, Harvard-educated physician, who ate only nuts and berries, or was it locusts and honey? And though he firmly believed that the bags under his eyes had joined the jowls and second chin as permanent additions to his face, an opportunity to test that theory hadn't arisen in the three months since his last deal fell through. Each day without a prospective project meant increased pressure from the firm's partners, and, at this point, a truly restful night of sleep seemed less likely than a move into the White House. The cursor blinked a steady rhythm back at him. John Dalton sighed.