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illegal, it was nevertheless sufficiently embarrassing to convince the man to voluntarily step down–and to name Mason as the new Director. It was a bloodless coup, but it represented a change in direction that would ultimately affect millions of people. Now Mason was in charge, and he ran the organization with an iron fist. As was the norm on Tuesday mornings, he had gathered his top managers together for a status meeting. After going over some routine departmental matters, he opened the meeting to general discussion.
    “So, who has good news?” asked Mason.
    Tom Snelling was the first to respond. “Profiling division is a go for the next run. Kayoko’s numbers were within range.”
    “No complications?” Mason seemed to be directing the question at Snelling, though he glanced briefly at Kayoko. It was Snelling who answered.
    “If we can’t get the population matrix aligned with the societal baseline, the quotient will be meaningless. The input from the computer department has been choppy.”
    All eyes turned to Norbert Green. His thick glasses, unkempt, curly reddish hair, and pale lifeless eyes screamed out ‘geek’. He was, however, a brilliant computer scientist.
    “Do you have any idea how complex this project is? Just storing the sheer volume of data is challenge enough, but we have to dissect it, parse it for nuance or idiomatic discrepancy, filter it for known dialectic patterns, then index the whole mess for proper presentation to our colleagues in Societal Profiling. If our efforts fall beneath the ninety-three per cent threshold, we get to do it all again.” He looked around for some sign of sympathy. He only got blank stares.
    “Look, people. The repositories are filling up faster then we can shuffle the data. We either have to expand operations, or…”
    “Or what, Norbert?” Mason looked quizzically at his boy wonder.
    “Or, we might consider piggybacking on some of the feds hardware.”
    “Norbert, the feds don’t even know we exist,” said Mason. “I doubt they’d let us use their computers.”
    “They wouldn’t know.” Norbert smiled.
    “We’ll consider it as an option, but for now let’s make due with what we have.”
    “Okay, but we’re really over-extending our capacity. If we crash, recovery won’t be easy.”
    “Then don’t crash.” Even Mason had his limits, and the look he gave Norbert made it clear he was there. “Field Services, what do you have to report?”
    “We’re short an implementer,” said George Pampas. His dual role included security and field operations.
    “Yes,” acknowledged Mason. “Mr. Slocum is unfortunately engaged in a high priority project at the moment. Is it setting you back?”
    “Some of our people are doubling up. The extra miles could leave a paper trail, but we’re careful. One person, for a short time, can be covered.” He emphasized the short.
    “I don’t expect Mr. Slocum will be otherwise engaged for long. Is that your only concern?”
    “Right now my only concern is getting the next profile implemented. We’re on schedule with the preliminaries. There are some minor equipment issues in the greater Philadelphia area, but we have people on it.”
    Mason liked Pampas. He didn’t dwell on the problems, but cut through the crap to solve them.
    “Okay, George. As far as the next profile goes, if the numbers hold up we’re going to do it next week, as scheduled. If the results are as expected, it will be on to bigger things.” He looked at the heads bobbing enthusiastically, and was pleased. The inner circle was completely on board. “Any questions?” There were none. “Until next Tuesday, then.” 

    ***

    Although he was a programmer, not a technician, Stanley had always retained a curiosity for how things worked. That’s why he now sat before a disassembled assortment of electronics, each component of the palmtop carefully extracted and placed on a piece of paper. He had even drawn a picture of how it looked before