I am walking with Max. We are in a forest. We come to a clearing and discover a huge, rumbling, moving machine with bad intentions. It is destroying everything in its path, and now it wants to kill us. Max steps forward to intervene, but it’s inadvertent, jokey, an almost accidental, pranksterish kind of heroism. For this heroism, he is transformed instantly into a chimera: a fox or coyote, cat-like, furry, intermingled with a thorny brambly bush. He has many teeth and prickles. Curling boughs emerge from his body like flailing arms, and enwrap him. One huge curved thorny tendril pushes out from his pelvis, Pan-like. Red fur. A long muzzle. Disturbingly huge snapping, laughing jaws packed with hundreds of razor sharp teeth. Max is now equipped to take on the machine. He is still Max, though; still discernible, full of mischief and energy.