The ticket settles on my desk: a paper tongue br pronouncing "Go away;" a flattened seed br from which a thousand-mile leap through the air can grow. br br It's pure potential: a vacation-to-be br the way an apple is a pie-to-be, br a bullet is a death-to-be. Or is the future br br pressed into it inalterably—woven between br the slick fibers like secret threads br from the U.S.