The idea seized hold of me. I would go into the camp of the enemy, sit by their fire, learn their secrets. "That would be _great_!" I said, too loudly. My head was buzzing slightly. Lil's hands fell away. "But we've got an early morning tomorrow," Lil said. "You've got a shift at eight, and I'm running into town for groceries." She was lying, but she was telling me that this wasn't her idea of a smart move. But my faith was unshakeable. "Eight a.m. shift? No problem -- I'll be right here when it starts. I'll just grab a shower at the Contemporary in the morning and catch the monorail back in time to change. All right?" Dan tried. "But Jules, we were going to grab some dinner at Cinderella's Royal Table, remember? I made reservations." "Aw, we can eat any time," I said. "This is a hell of an opportunity." "It sure is," Dan said, giving up. "Mind if I come along?" He and Lil traded meaningful looks that I interpreted to mean, _If he's going to be a nut, one of us really should stay with him_. I was past caring -- I was going to beard the lion in his den! Tim was apparently oblivious to all of this. "Then it's settled! Let's go." # On the walk to the Hall, Dan kept ringing my cochlea and I kept sending him straight to voicemail. All the while, I kept up a patter of small- talk with him and Tim. I was determined to make up for my debacle in the Mansion with Tim, win him over. Debra's people were sitting around in the armchairs onstage, the animatronic presidents stacked in neat piles in the wings. Debra was sprawled in Lincoln's armchair, her head cocked lazily, her legs extended before her. The Hall's normal smells of ozone and cleanliness were overridden by sweat and machine-oil, the stink of an ad-hoc pulling an all-nighter. The Hall took fifteen years to research and execute, and a couple of days to tear down. She was au-naturel, still wearing the face she'd been born with, albeit one that had been regenerated dozens of times after her deaths. It was patrician, waxy, long, with a nose that was made for staring down. She was at least as old as I was, though she was only apparent 22. I got the sense that she picked this age because it was one that afforded boundless reserves of energy. She didn't deign to rise as I approached, but she did nod languorously at me. The other ad-hocs had been split into little clusters, hunched over terminals. They all had the raccoon-eyed, sleep-deprived look of fanatics, even Debra, who managed to look lazy and excited simultaneously. _Did you have me killed_? I wondered, staring at Debra. After all, she'd been killed dozens, if not hundreds of times. It might not be such a big deal for her. "Hi there," I said, brightly. "Tim offered to show us around! You know Dan, right?" Debra nodded at him. "Oh, sure. Dan and I are pals, right?"