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In the field before him, Dr. Fisk, geologist, was held entranced by his team excavating a diamond pipe. A hundred and twenty miles below the earth's mantel, she had, in technical terms, been a slow comer, but by the time her super-heated fluids and minerals had reached the earth's surface, she had spewed up and spluttered her jewels at Mach 2 all over the countryside. The more Dr. Fisk examined her opening, the more he liked what he saw.

The odds of diamonds appearing in any given pipe are about a hundred to one. Carbon will crystallize in its densest form only under extraordinary conditions of heat and pressure. And here it was, spewed out across the meadow, like so much rich, fertile seamen jettisoned deep from a young woman's throat.

The gems are known as Kimberlite, the matrix rock of diamonds. Come to think of it, he would name her (as is customary in this line of work): "Kimberly", after Kimberlite. Kimberly, his little diamond pipe: passive, long since dormant, yet somehow imbued with a history of action, in a Laura Palmer sort of way. Kimberly.

Dr. Fisk could bare it no more. He ran out across the clearing, took his field pants down, and started humping that diamond pipe. For some reason he was wearing a stethoscope, which he kept placing on the ground, listening for something while he plugged away. Mamumbo, one of the native hired hands, had been thinking of doing something similar, but now that he saw someone else doing it, he was glad he hadn't.