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Who is he? Where did he come from?

This is our office. Shipping's over there, and the production part of things is over here. The "warehouse" is down the hall. That's the twenty-five-cent tour. Care for a root beer? There you are. Have a seat.

Professor Pathfinder? Well, let's see. We first met him years ago. We were working at the map store, filing topos. A scholarly gentleman with a white mustache stalked in and flung a handful of maps around the room.

"Useless!" he cried. "I want to know where things are, not where the idiots at Map Central think they are! I want a map that doesn't offend my eye! And I want one map, not fifty! You could do a better job than the dunderheads who made these! Get to work!"

And out he went. We looked at each other, and shrugged. What the heck . . . why not? The maps he'd left were of the university: some showed how to get to campus or where to park, some promoted shopping centers and hotels, and some labelled campus buildings. It was a mess.

We got to work.

Life's Too Short for Bad Maps SM