“And we have the people who can build this grand illusion,” they bellowed.
They tasked the location scout to find a suitable location. “Do not bother scouting the East or West coasts,” the image makers informed him. “You will not find paradise in the fridges. Search the middle.”
After several months, the location scout found paradise in North Caroline. “It’s neither too hot nor too cold. It’s perfect,” he told the image makers who readily agreed.
Thousands of artisans, from set designers, prop masters, carpenters, to painters, worked to make paradise a reality. In short order the houses, complete with white picket fences, were erected along with a town square with businesses for a thriving community. There was a pharmacy, a local bank, and a soda fountain with vanilla milkshakes and wholesome comic books. Even milkmen eager to deliver bottles of milk.
The image makers were pleased with their handy work. “And we shall call it Paradise,” they exclaimed.
They approached the first house for the ribbon cutting. The builders of fantasies and illusions were all there. This was their first attempt at building reality.
The door to the first house was opened to reveal the emptiness inside.