Forging the Blade

Author’s Note

For those of you who have read The Deepest Cut, a quick reminder: the Dynamic Formatting used extensively in the print version of the Driven to the Hilt books cannot be used in this ebook. Why? Because the many varieties of ebook formats have limited and different font selections available, they convert the fonts up and down in size, remove spacing between words, and generally make the viewing presentation unreadable. With limited options available, I have turned to the following conventions to convey at least a small part of the Dynamic Formatting experience.

Since slowtime is central to the action sequences, I have made do with the less elegant solution of underling text. Likewise, while I cannot use extra spaces, the conversion program does allow for ellipses and dashes. So I have inserted those as poor substitutes, trying my best to use them in a consistent manner. Finally, I have inserted three centered asterisks *** whenever there is a change in the character point of view and some centered infinity symbols ~~~~~~ to indicate a significant break in time within a chapter.

For more on the theory of Dynamic Formatting, consider buying the print version of the Driven to the Hilt books. You can also go to www.driventothehilt.com to read an overview. Otherwise, turn the page and get started with Joshua’s continuing adventure.

Recruited

return to Table of Contents

◄1►

November 1, 2120 ESD

The minisheet dinged. Hello, Viper Boy.

A gloved hand slipped around to a belted holster snuggled in the small of the back and pulled out the minisheet. A quick tap popped up a window displaying a schematic overview of New Cincinnati. Sharp blue eyes followed the small cyan dot as it progressed inwards from just beyond the edge of the city. What is he doing out there? A second tap identified the active sensor. Ahhh! The extra roof sensors paid off.

The tall lean figure unfolded from the ground without looking away from the moving dot. He reached up under his hood and rotated down a smoke grey eye shield until it clicked into place. A Heads Up Display flickered to life, assembling a 3D array of green lines into which a blue dot appeared. As the small blue numbers floating above it decreased, the pulsating dot grew larger, prompting the man to release the minisheet so that its holster wire could pull it back under his cloak and up into its receptor socket. The HUD system combined weather satellite transmissions, publicly available survey data, signals from the active sensors he had placed, and its own GPS and subsonic sonar system to update the imagery.

The man’s smile of satisfaction disappeared with a quick curse when blooms of large red and small green dots began scurrying all around him, obscuring the 3D display. He muttered, …can’t believe those imbeciles can’t code a permanent reset of the defaults, as he stared at the settings icon in the toolbar at the top of the HUD. Once the virtual menu displaced the 3D map, his index fingertip moved with rapid precision to adjust the filtering parameters. With a final emphatic poke into the air in front of him, the HUD reemerged and the more distant colorful blotches faded away, but a swarm of tiny green dots scurried about in the wall before him. Some local version of cockroaches, I’m sure. The flash of distant childhood memories brought a small shudder just before the final filter algorithm returned the scavenging dots to obscurity.

Standing under a drifting mist, he patiently watched his pulsing quarry make a relatively direct line into the city. He estimated a trajectory, chose an intercept point, and stared without blinking for three seconds to fix a red target dot into his HUD. A large metal tube emerged from under the dark green cloak, pointed upwards, and popped. A rapidly spinning reel sang to the glimmering of a streaming line, stopping with a distant clinking on the roof. The muted tinkling of the ceramic hook was lost in a whirr from the metal tube and the cloak flowed behind the man as he exploded toward the wall before him. The almost invisible line pulled taut as he leaped and the metal tube that was his right arm pulled him upwards. With a wet slapping sound, his feet connected with the side of the building, the impact creating a silent explosion of tiny sparkles as fine droplets flew off the water repellant cloak. The whine from the tube deepened as the man ran up the wall without pause. A moment later, he vaulted over the roof retaining wall, his arrival on the tarred surface announced with a soft squish. Remaining in a crouch with his gleaming tubular forearm aimed behind him, he surveyed the surrounding rooftops. The soft whine of the spinning reel hummed until the grappling hook had retracted back into the silver appendage with a solid click. Detecting no threats, the figure rose and set off in an easy lope across the top of the building.

Three blocks of rooftops later, he squatted down behind a roof wall. The blue blip was nearby and not moving. The man waited, confident the boy would resume traveling soon… …then… …he waited some more… …Five minutes without moving? That’s certainly out of the ordinary. A quick calculation and he moved again, angling for a better vantage point. Peeking over another roof wall, he peered down at the far front corner of the building below, looking about 10 degrees to the side of where the sensor indicated his eyes straining to make out a more intense darkness among the shadows… right about… …there. …And… he still hasn’t moved. After… …12 minutes? The observer wondered if the boy had injured himself. He considered activating the HUD’s night vision mode, but I need to get some recordings anyway.

The man reached inside his hood and with a click, the HUD retracted. He pulled forth his minisheet as he sank cross-legged behind the wall, released the holster wire, and pressed one edge of the minisheet case, causing spikes to protrude out the back. After pressing the case into the roof wall, he rotated the other edge of the case up so that the lens on the tip of the arm cleared the top edge of the wall. He adjusted the red picture glowing from the minisheet until it was clear and then zoomed in on a lanky boy. His target was as still as stone, kneeling with eyes barely clearing the top of the wall in front of him, watching the street below. Well, …he doesn’t appear to be hurt. - - - Has he just been observing for that long? An eyebrow lifted a notch. Based upon their very limited prior contacts, the man already knew how cautious the target could be. But from much personal experience, he also knew how difficult it was to maintain disciplined observation for extended periods, - - - - - especially if not much was happening - - - - - and - - - - it was raining - - - and …you are what? 12 years old? He settled onto the roof for his own wait. - - - - It lasted - - - - seven - - - - more - - - - minutes - - - - and then, …the boy moved.

His target eased away from the front wall and once well back from the street, stood and headed straight towards the man’s observation post. The man’s gloved left hand expertly kept the minisheet camera on the boy as he approached. Blue eyes widened when, without any hesitation, the small figure jumped over the half wall and disappeared from view. The dark figure snatched the minisheet and angled it over the forward edge of the roof wall. Urgent seconds ticked by as the optics adjusted to the deeper murkiness of the alley, but after details zoomed into focus, a quick sweep of the sheet located the boy standing just inside the edge of a shadow created by an unseen streetlamp, again observing something across the street. Looks like another wait.

The expected short wait extended until his eyes flicked to the reset session timer, just over five minutes but his burning shoulders simply screamed - too long! Just as he was about to press the sheet into the wall, the boy casually walked into the lit street and out of the camera view.

The cloaked figure immediately straightened up, pivoted, and ran back 15 feet. He spun back around, wrapped his cloak around the gleaming tube of his right arm, and gripped the minisheet in his gloved left hand. Blowing out a quiet breath through the drifting mist, he leaned forward and began sprinting towards the roof wall. A foot slapped the top of the wall and he sailed out over the alley. His collapse onto the opposite roof converted into a forward roll that ended with the man rising smoothly to his feet and sliding the last few feet across the slick rooftop before stopping without a single wobble. With the grace of a dancer, he maneuvered over to crouch behind the forward wall and press the sheet case into a new observation position. His decisiveness paid off – the picture came on line just as the boy entered the establishment across the street. He made some adjustments Mom’s Vital Supplies. How quaint! …It looks like I’m in for yet another wait.

It took the boy about ten minutes to do his shopping. He exited Mom’s with a bulging satchel over one shoulder and a bag in each hand. You’ll have trouble running the rooftops with those. This assessment proved correct: the boy looked each way, hesitated, and then headed across the street towards a motorway access stairwell half a block away. Switching the minisheet back to the map, the man again plotted trajectories and set the best intercept point. His hand flew as he disassembled the case’s observation configuration and then stowed the minisheet beneath his cloak. Free of encumbrances, the man soared across the rooftops.

Once at the intercept point, the cloaked man settled down onto the wet motorway and became a heap against a wall. He was just far enough into an alley to be concealed in shadow, but still within easy conversational distance from the motorway. He pulled out a small flask, swished its burning liquid around in his mouth before spitting it out onto the pavement in front of him. What a waste of a fine single malt. This wait was not as long as he had anticipated. He’s making good time. The man noted with approval that the boy walked down the center of the motorway, providing maximum reaction time to threats from either side. Appropriately cautious given recent events.

He cleared his throat and was pleased to see Joshua whip his face toward the noise while dropping a bag and reaching into his slicker.

Ah ex- excuse me?

The boy glanced in the opposite direction before turning his head back to observe. Making sure this isn’t a diversion. Just like before. Then the boy waited. - - - - - In silence.

I ah I was hoping you m- might be of sssome assis- sis- tance to me.

Another… longer… wait. - - - - - - - - - In silence.

I seem to have im- imBI- mbibed a bit too frEEly and… ummm, I would - GREAT ly a- ap- apprEEciate - …a drink. The man lifted a shaky left hand, A… …umm… aaa drink, …of water, that is. - Yes, …water.

The boy looked back the way he came, frowning. Better sweeten the pot.

I would be… ummm …willing to pay?

The boy pulled his hand from his slicker …stared… then dropped his head, chest deflating in a silent sigh, …before… straightening his shoulders and going to the opposite side of the alley to place his bags behind a rusty dumpster. He came back close enough for the man to see his nose wrinkle at the odor of the whiskey, but remained out of immediate reach. There’s a store nearby. A bottle of water costs 4 cents. …You might want to try Restorade. It makes me feel better when I’ve been… sick. It costs 12 cents.

EX-cellent! …I’ll take - BOTH! The man fumbled inside of his cloak before holding out a 5 UD note. Here ya, - he burped, - - go. He saw a flash of recognition that morphed into sadness and disappointment before the boy snatched the bill from his hand and ran back the way he had come. A very complex young man.

It was not long before he heard the rhythm of trotting footsteps. The boy slowed well away from the opening of the alley and conducted a complete 360 check before he approached with a plastic bag. He placed it just within the man’s reach and then popped back several paces, The change is in the bag.

As the man pulled out the blue Restorade, he counted four bills and three quarters among the coins. Remarkable. He looked up to see the boy heading across the alley for his earlier purchases. He called out, "Please! Take the change. Please. I insist."

The boy turned and contemplated.

"Wait. …Is that… you? …Joshua? …Yes, …that is you."

Yes, Mr. Hobo, …it’s me.

Please. Joshua. …You’ve been very kind. Please take it. Hobo threw the bag, the change jingling as it hit the ground at Joshua’s feet. Then he unscrewed the Restorade and proceeded to drain the bottle. "Aahhh. …Oh my, …you were absolutely correct. That does make me feel better!"

Joshua took out the money and held it in his hand. You’re talking a lot better now.

Why, yes. Yes I am. He examined the empty bottle, "This stuff really does work well, doesn’t it?"

This is a lot of money to just get you a drink.

And worth every penny, believe me. Besides, I believe in reciprocity, don’t you?

This time the sigh was audible. Yeah. …Me too.

Hobo was confident that later analysis of the recordings from his helmet’s bioscanners would confirm that the boy had understood the Grade 13 vocabulary word. More data to support my observations.

The money disappeared into the patched black slicker. I… ah …I didn’t expect to see you like this, Mr. Hobo.

"Right. …Well, …a… …ah… disappointing business endeavor …got me …a little… down. Hobo smiled before he took a swig of the bottled water, I suppose it would’ve been better if I’d been drinking this, he lifted the bottle from the start, uh? Instead of what I did drink, that is."

I suppose so. Eyes to the ground, Joshua’s head shifted back and forth in slow consideration. Then he raised his eyes and regarded Hobo with a hard squint, "Why did you …really… help me that night?"

Well, I did a quick costs-benefits analysis and figured that Omar and Mr. Muldavy would come to the conclusion that the potential costs outweighed the possible payoff.

So, …seems like a lot of potential costs to you. - - What was your benefit?

Hobo’s brow lifted, Not having to see a boy bludgeoned to death in the street, perhaps? Besides, I’ve worked for many years on my ’Don’t Tread on Me’ stare. His face darkened and his eyes became flat with menace - - - - and then evaporated with a grin. "I have a lot of confidence in it. Annndd, I did have a couple of other persuasive arguments, the boy’s eyebrows reacted with a tiny lift of appreciation, so… the risk was actually rather low."

Ok, …well, …thanks anyway.

Happy to have been of assistance. Hobo’s brow furrowed with a brief hesitation, "Say, I know this is off topic and a bit …well… silly, but I’ve been stuck on this puzzle and I thought maybe a fresh set of eyes might see something I’m missing. Think you could take a look at it?"

***

Puzzle? This is weird. I don’t really do puzzles on my sheet. My Mom wasn’t big on me spending idle time that way.

Wasn’t?

My parents are dead. Joshua’s eyes narrowed just a touch in his otherwise flat face, But you probably already figured that out.

Well, I certainly suspected …and… I’m sorry to have my suspicions confirmed. She sounds as if she was a wise woman. …So, …do you think she would mind if you looked just at this one? To help me out?

Joshua examined Hobo’s face. - - - Something about all of this just isn’t right, …but he could’ve pulled out one of his ‘persuasive arguments’ at any time, …and he hasn’t… - …so, I guess I might as well find out what this is all about. No. She wouldn’t mind.

***

Hobo retrieved his sheet from his lap and activated the appropriate programs. Finally. An opportunity for a little formal assessment. Turning the sheet forward for Joshua to see, he explained the code-breaking game, which was set for five slots and five colors. There were four guesses already entered, each with corresponding feedback: a black notch for a correct color placed in the wrong position and a white notch for a correct color in the correct position.

I’ve saved it, so feel free to enter all the guesses you like, just be sure to show me when you get the solution, I want to understand what I missed.

Confident he had some time, Hobo leaned back and began clicking his teeth at a sub-audible level, updating his report. Halfway through his documentation, it registered on Hobo that Joshua had not yet entered any guesses. Uh oh, he’s not getting it at all. And he was so promising on the informal measures! Of course, he had to be to remain viable, given that he is almost outside the new age parameters. Could I have been that far off about him? After an internal sigh, Hobo prepared to start a revision of his report, but stopped when Joshua put a finger to the sheet and entered a guess. Well, that’s a start. Entered with confidence, too. Nodding at the feedback, Joshua held out the sheet.

There’s something wrong with your program.

Hobo was stunned. Even when he had seen someone start to suspect the answer, they were always always hesitant to say so. There had been no hesitation with Joshua. "So, …you’re telling me that the program is bad? …Are you… sure?"

Yes. It can’t be worked out based on the feedback from the first four guesses.

Show me.

And he did. Five minutes later it was clear to Hobo that Joshua had logically and systematically determined the correct conclusion. Dr. Berry would love to get his hands on this boy’s brain. Hobo was so impressed with the implications of this development that he decided to jump ahead and attempt to set up the field assessment.

"Say, …ah, …Joshua. …About that… disappointing business endeavor, …I actually need to leave Cypress Grove soon. …But… …I really can’t go until I, …uh… clean up a little… misunderstanding. Bottom line? …I must retrieve something that is very valuable to my employer and, Hobo lifted both arms in an apologetic shrug, I’m running out of time."

Oka- Joshua’s gaze locked onto the silver appendage, What happened? His eyes widened and he quickly added, Ah, …if you don’t mind me asking, that is.

"No, I don’t mind. But it is actually a rather …long story. …I’d be happy to tell it to you sometime," Not likely that will ever happen but I’m guessing you have some things in your bags over there that you need to get refrigerated.

Joshua pivoted towards his supplies, Oh, …yeah. …I do.

"But maybe you would be willing to come back here tomorrow night, at say, 8:00 …so I could explain my situation to you? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but I really need to recover this lost item, so… I will pay you $200 if you do decide to help me get it back."

Joshua’s jaw literally dropped open, "$200?"

Cash.

OK. 8:00 tomorrow night. Here. Joshua backed away and then turned to gather up his purchases.

Hobo sighed in satisfaction and then got to work. I need to take great care in setting up this field trial properly. The selection criteria have become so stringent. The voice of his Dear Brother slid into his inner ear, Only the Master Gardener possesses the experience and wisdom to select the finest fruit. Hobo chuckled to himself as his inevitable response echoed back, I don’t do gardening. I just …harvest!

◄2►

Joshua sat in a sweat, peering out from under heaps of garbage. Whenever a fall breeze managed to pass through the motorway across the alley from where he was to meet Hobo, it washed over his face with cool relief, but also cleared his sinuses, causing the stench from the bags of rotting refuse to assault his nose with renewed vigor. Occasionally, his cheeks were splattered by an extra-large drop of water released from the pedway mesh above.

None of this mattered to Joshua at that moment. He was hibernating. It was a semi-alert trance state he had developed during his long night watches over Bossman’s warehouse. His muscles were loose and his thoughts were languid, but if necessary, he could transition back to an alert physical readiness within a few seconds. Although he had initially learned to hibernate to help pass the time, on this night, he was hibernating to enhance his problem-solving abilities. While his thinking was slow, he could readily direct his thoughts and make connections between disparate observations. That was what he wanted while he waited – to make more connections about Hobo.

So, he helped me against Omar and Muldavy, but then he faked being drunk last night. How could he be so in control against those two, but so weak about a disappointing business endeavor? But then, that wasn’t real, was it? - - - His story that he had lost something? What does that mean, he lost it? He misplaced it? It was stolen? And does he really jump around to someone else’s orders, a boss he’s scared of, worried about being in trouble with because he lost something? That doesn’t go with his Don’t Tread on Me stare. Was that just a front? - No. …I felt that. He can and will back up that stare. Omar and Muldavy felt it too, and they are hardened men of The Avenue. - Maybe h-

Joshua heard the approaching footsteps of a man unconcerned with being in the underbelly of a city at night. The bottom edge of a dark cloak furled behind him as he strode up the middle of the unused motorway. Seeing that Hobo was alone, Joshua pushed aside his renewed awareness of how cramped his feet were inside of his shoes and then pushed aside the garbage bags that concealed him. The man jumped back, dropping a soft-sided foil covered box to dart his freed hand under his cloak.

Joshua blurted out, It’s ME, Mr. Hobo! - Joshua.

"Oh, …yes, …of course. You were very well hidden. His arm relaxed and he reached down for the strap on the foil box. That is wise of you, given the gangs that rove down here at night. He heft the box, I brought some food. Come on over here out of the rain and we can eat while I explain my situation."

Something’s not quite right about this… but he hasn’t pulled his ‘persuaders’ yet. The weight of Fenster’s stiletto under his left arm was suddenly no longer as comforting, but I really need the money, - so…

Joshua paused in the middle of the motorway to allow the medium rainfall coming through the pedway overhead to wash some of his hiding place stink off of his slicker. Then he followed Hobo across to the nearby alleyway where two smaller boxes were placed beside a larger crate, all sheltered by a building overlay.

These weren’t here last night.

"You are quite observant. …I arranged this… dining area …before I left last night, …all in anticipation of… this!" He hoisted the soft foil box onto the crate and unfastened the lid. A thick insulated bottle thumped down on the crate next to Joshua Wow! A Novastar Hot Caramel Latte! That’s not cheap. Hobo then withdrew a large foil wrapped cylinder, And, …a pancake burrito from Breakfast Bongo’s! He bowed with a flourish.

That’s at the Sky Creek Mall, isn’t it?

Yes, it is. And I persuaded them to make us a couple even though it was almost closing time. Let’s eat them while they’re hot.

Joshua gave the gloomy alley another quick scan, lowered his slicker hood, and then eased down onto the crate. Pushing back his hair behind his ears, he leaned forward as he unwrapped the foil from the end of the pancake burrito, and inhaled. The aroma of sausage flavored pork cube, scrambled egg substitute, and diced onion wafted up to his nose, immediately notifying his stomach, which in turn voiced its emphatic opinion with a loud rumble. Joshua’s nascent smile halted when the image of his mother rose in his mind, face full of anticipation as she lifted a fork full of omelet to her mouth. The core of his being filled with the ache of her absence, mingling with a fondness from the memory of how they had always paused after the first bite to relish her cooking. Now, after more than a year, there was only the slightest aftertaste of bitter remorse. His smile softened under moist eyes. He lifted the burrito in salute. Here’s to you, Mom.

Joshua sank his teeth into the fluffy pancake, closed his eyes and chewed with a contemplative rhythm, savoring the flavors of thyme and sage. On his third bite, his suspicions caught up with him. He walked down the motorway totally unconcerned and then… had that big reaction. - He would never be caught unaware like that. And he must have paid a lot to get Breakfast Bongo’s to make these pancake burritos this late at night. You’re trying to …flatter me, …and… bribe me. …All so I’ll help you.

Hobo finished chewing and swallowed before flashing a bright smile, "Of course I am. I told you, the item is very valuable, time is running out, and… I need your help. …So, …I am absolutely trying to stack the deck in my favor. Because if I can’t convince you to help me, …or… if together we can’t figure out some way to retrieve this item, …then… I will be forced to use more… confrontational methods. That will get messy and I don’t like messy. It goes against my reputation."

Your reputation?

"I am a freelance operator who specializes in …hmm… troubleshooting… problem solving… helping individuals and corporations to resolve disagreements."

I thought you said you lost something.

Ah, time for the full story, I see. My current employer, Mr. Livingstone, is an import-export middleman who supplies difficult to acquire merchandise to customers throughout the Sector. Have you ever heard of Pink Chrystal?

Joshua shook his head, but threw out a guess around a mouthful of pancake burrito, Some kinda new drug?

Hmmm, good conjecture from the name. No, it is Chrystaline Corrillium, an exceedingly rare mineral that has actually been found in small quantities right here on Cypress Grove. As the name implies, it is a crystal that geological pressures have transformed into a substance much harder than diamonds. The crystals have vertical stress faults that allow for the creation of shards with incredibly sharp …and endlessly durable… edges. There are innumerable industrial uses. All quite legal, I assure you.

"And you lost it somehow?"

"Well, it is not misplaced - in that I know exactly where it is, but it’s lost to its intended destination. You see, Mr. Livingstone paid a very large sum to a local merchant, Lukin Ward, to have a number of Pink Chrystal shards shipped to an industrialist on Whorfindale. After taking the money, Mr. Ward is reneging on the agreement."

And… you are here to get the Pink Chrystals from Mr. Ward?

Yes, and to ensure their arrival on Whorfindale in time for the buyer to start up his new manufacturing operation. Not only are a great many people waiting to begin new jobs in that industrial plant, but my employer’s business is highly dependent upon his reputation to deliver goods on time, and… he has given his word.

Can’t he go to the law?

It would take too long. By the time everything was unraveled in court, Mr. Livingstone would be ruined.

How do I know you aren’t here to just steal it from Mr. Ward?

Hobo’s eyes glinted with danger, Do you think I’m a thief?

Joshua held his gaze. "Well, you don’t feel like you’re a thief. Then he shrugged, But I’m just a kid. What do I know?"

More than you let on, Hobo gave a single emphatic nod, "that’s for certain. - No, don’t object. …You can’t argue that anyone who somehow captures a spiderviper and then carries it all the way into town in his bare hand, doesn’t know a great deal more about The Swamp than the entire population of New Cincinnati. Actually, that little item on your résumé is the primary reason I sought you out." That, at least, is true. "I am desperately in need of such resourcefulness. But …your question is a fair one. So let me show you an undercover video that will prove that I am not seeking to acquire the Pink Chrystals from Mr. Ward illegally."

Hobo reached behind his back, pulled out a minisheet, placed it on the crate facing Joshua, and tapped the screen. Two sets of stylized shapes appeared. On top was a row that consisted of a star, crescent moon, comet, and ringed planet. Below were four shapes in a box array: a comet gently rotating clockwise in the upper left corner, a pulsating moon to its right, a plain star in the bottom left quadrant, and another star rotating counterclockwise in the lower right corner.

What’s this?

It’s a security screen. You match the array to one of the four shapes at the top. You use the feedback, green for correct or red if you are wrong, to inform your next answer. Actually, it’s really not tha- Hobo stopped, held his hand up to the side of his head in the universal signal that he had an incoming call, then rose and turned away. "Hello, Mr. Livingstone. - - - - - Ah, yes, I - - - - - - - - Yes, I am working on the problem. I have - - - - - - yes, I am and - - - - - well, if you will allow me to provide an update - - - - - - - - - - Of course. I - - - - - - - " Hobo’s voice faded as he walked away, receding into the dark shadows deeper in the alley. Joshua refocused upon the figures on the sheet.

OK, more is always better, right? He touched the star in the top row and the screen pulsed green Right! A new array appeared: a star rotating counterclockwise, a pulsating planet, a moon rotating clockwise, and a pulsating comet. However, the top row now had animation: the star rotated counterclockwise, the moon turned clockwise, the comet did nothing, while the planet pulsated. Well, the star is a perfect match, so- The screen flashed red and then revealed an unanimated top row, with the array showing a plain moon, a star rotating clockwise, a pulsating moon, and a pulsating comet. Two moons, but two flashing ones, hmmm, nothing flashing above, so… I’ll try the moon. A flare of green. Most of the top row again changed: the star pulsed, the moon did nothing, the comet turned clockwise, and the planet rotated counterclockwise. Below were a moon that rotated counterclockwise, a pulsating planet, a comet rotating clockwise, and a star spinning counterclockwise. Ha! Fool me once… His touch of the planet was rewarded with an affirmative feedback of green. Joshua stuck with the same concept in the next array and after another flash of green, the security screen was replaced by a home screen of a sunrise lighting up an elaborate garden of glowing flowers, lush herbs, and trees laden with different fruits. This is odd!

Joshua glanced up at Hobo, standing in the shadows with his back turned, still in conversation. It didn’t sound as if Mr. Livingstone was very happy. So, he might be a while. …Let’s see… He searched the array of app icons and found a half-lidded eye entitled Surveillance. Another glance at the still engaged Hobo, a shrug, and then a double tap on the eye. A window opened and a subscreen popped up with a list of titles. Joshua scrolled down, stopped at Ward 10 29 2120 ESD, and tapped twice. The screen transformed into the view of a well-lit warehouse interior, with uneven black edges on the top and both sides. Joshua began to put the sheet down onto the crate and almost dropped it when he looked up to find Hobo watching him from three feet away. He opened his mouth to explain, but

"I see you cracked the code. And found the correct video. Very good. Have you watched it yet?"

Ahh, …not yet, but I just want yo-

"No need to explain. As I told you, I value resourcefulness. I trust that you did not look at anything unrelated to our prior discussion. Go ahead. …Please. …Review the video."

Joshua pressed the play button and settled back. The screen went black and then opened with an approach through an aisle between shelves filled with boxes and indiscriminate items, the entire image having a slight bounce as a desk at the end of the corridor became larger. Again, he noticed the obscured three sides of the screen, with the edges seeming to open and close in rhythm with the bounce. OH, it’s being shot from under a hood! Joshua looked up at Hobo’s impassive face and he realized he had never seen the man with his hood down. Little could be seen in the shadows around his face, so he looked back to the video to find the trip down the aisle was almost complete.

A stout man stood behind the desk, waiting. As the view emerged from the shelving, the man spoke with the hint of a German accent in his voice, "Ah, the renown Hobo makes his presence known! I’m astonished you’d come in here in the open, - in the light! - - I have always heard you prefer to