PROLOGUE Boston University, Fall 1989
MARK MY WORDS, without knowledge you’re all bound for the welfare line or the penitentiary,” said Mr. Giencanna, the instructor for the Introduction to Philosophy class. Nobody was trying to hear him and he proceeded with the daily roll call.
“Mr. Jason Abbott?” Mr. Giencanna called out, fixing his glasses on his hawklike nose.
“Here,” a young man in the rear spoke up.
“Right here,” said another male’s voice.
“Miss Natalie Farmer?”