"Mr. Fiso gave us a report today," a young boy said excitedly to his father in the noisy patio dining area of one of Coruscant's many ethnic restaurants. The boy's father looked up from his half-devoured bantha steak with mild interest.
"Mr. Fiso is your social studies teacher, right?" he asked and the boy eagerly nodded.
"Yeah. We have to write a ten-page biographical essay on a person who has had 'an influence on Coruscanti style or culture in some way within the last century'," the boy said, his tone changing slightly as he mimicked his haughty teacher.
"Sounds interesting," the boy's father replied, chewing his bantha thoughtfully. "Who'd you pick?"
The boy forcefully skewered a bluish vegetable and, holding his fork just below eye level, looked across it at his father, desperately hoping that he would be impressed.
"I picked Darth Vader."
As his son turned nonchalantly back to his vegetables, every drop of color drained from Luke Skywalker's face. His black-gloved hand clenched tight, as he whispered to the winds of the Force, Ben Anakin Skywalker, what have you done now?
Luke could have sworn he heard laughter in reply.