It was a good airport. A swell airport. An airport worthy of
it's name, Denver International Airport. But it would not
open.

"No planes land here," Carrie Case said. Life as a baggage
consultant was not easy. "The suitcases have behaved badly.
Damned badly."

The man beside her looked long and hard down the runway.
"There must be hope somewhere. The computers. We'll talk to
them again."

They strode through the high arched doors. Every inch of the
airport shone with the gleam of non-use. Wounded luggage was
strewn on the floor everywhere they looked.

"We must win this war," said Carrie Case. "That's the first
thing. If we don't win the war, nothing else matters."

A pale blue Samsonite suitcase lay open, blocking the man's
way to the computers. All of Victoria's Secrets were visible
to his eyes. He observed them carefully. They were splendid
secrets.

"Do we use loaded luggage for the tests?" he asked Carrie
Case. "It seems so cruel."

"Yes, we do. Because war is truth. And truth matters. If there
is a truth." 

It was three o'clock. Carrie Case heard a far-off, distant
throbbing and looked up and saw the planes. But they would not
land here.

The computers were brave but stupid. They would seem to know
exactly what to do, then break down and send the luggage to
all the wrong places. If this was how it was then this was how
it was. But there was no law that made Carrie Case say she
liked it.

"What will happen if the luggage never behaves?" the man
asked. 

"It's simple. They say the entire airport will become another
Harry's Bar & American Grill. A marvelous idea. But no planes
will land at Harry's."

"It's a damn shame."

The man pushed the white buttons. The computers began to whir.
The new test was underway, but Carrie Case was doubtful. This
was no way to think. Bags needed guidance and motivation.
Particularly these bags.

The test started badly. "The suitcases just can't find their
destination," the man said.

And who can, thought Carrie Case. All the life you have or
ever will have is today, tonight, tomorrow, today, tonight,
tomorrow, over and over again. What was a destination in life
anyway? Carrie Case had known a few. Love. Home. A fine
friend. Strong whiskey. The end of a story.