This is temporary, you got it, TEMPORARY, don't you understand plain English ? His throat ached, he couldn't talk anymore. The idiots were still howling, sticking their silly placards under his nose. He could see a crude cartoon of himself on one of those, naked, asphyxiated in a glass jar. Not "jar", he told himself. I will NOT use this word. The right word is condom. These are condoms, made to condom. The verb is CONDOM. I am the one who coined the word, you know that. The roaring morons kept diverting him from his stream of self-supporting thoughts. It is temporary, he tried again to tell them over the ruckus. I make the most solemn promise that we'll take the jars (oops) off as soon as the danger is over, or that we'll replace them when a more technically satisfying solution is available. He stopped, out of uselessness. One placard flew over his head, soon followed by a dozen others. All ricocheted off the hard epoxy shell of the 1/10th condom model that government agents tried to fit onto apple trees all over the country. The model was an perfectly operational replica of the original device, able to withstand any kind of physical aggression, from earthquakes to radioactivity. Just a few hours ago, he had inconsiderately thought that a demonstration of the associated SO2/CO2 filter could win them over. Missiles were raining now. Jars, real ones, started exploding on the tribune where he stood. I quit, he said. Tired of helping people out, I am. He retreated, without even