It was just one of those “fishy” places, where two stunning backcountry Alaskan rivers come together and form a river with a much more famous reputation. The two smaller rivers, each running out of fairly substantial lakes higher in the drainage, are largely unknown (at least by their names on the map). Where their currents collide and the “big” river starts is this mishmash of foam and detritus and erratic whirlpools.

Monday, he went in early and reviewed all of his accounts. Everything was in order, but he wanted to be clear when he talked to Mr. Purdy. He knew Mr. Purdy held him to a higher standard, that it would take more for him to advance, but he felt he had met that. If he hadn’t, perhaps Mr. Purdy could explain what more he needed to do.

He decided to give Mr. Purdy a half an hour to get his coffee and check his mail before he spoke to him, so he watched the painful minutes drag by. Just as he was about to get up and walk to Mr. Purdy’s office at the other end of the building, the devil himself knocked at the door.

“George, got a minute?” Mr. Purdy already had his sleeves rolled up, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand.