Throwing the last egg into the basket, he snorted in contempt at the chickens. They were disgusting creatures, little better that pigeons (which he thought of as rats with wings). The cock was off somewhere being lazy, so he hadn’t had much trouble collecting the precious orbs this time, but it was still a dirty job. He stepped out of the henhouse and he saw a vision.
It was just what he’d been looking for all this time. A symbol, a thought, an idea. Before him stood a massive snorting ox. Muscles rippled all over it’s body. It was a monstrous creature of labor. It was a perfect anachronism for work.
The sun was directly behind the ox, and so everything around it was blurred out in a white haze. The beast of burden had a bluish tint from the devastating rays of the sun. It began to hurt Victory’s eyes, so he turned away. But he had seen it. He had had an epiphany. There was his symbol.
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