They had burgers in the back-yard, cooking on an electric grill that was caked with the smoking grease of a summer's worth of outdoor meals. The plastic table-cloth was weighed down with painted rocks and the corners blew up in the freshening autumn winds. Lyenitchka's little brother appeared when the burgers began to spit and smoke on the grill, a seven-year-old in metallic mesh trousers and shirt wrought with the logo of a cartoon Cossack holding a laser-sword aloft. "Sasha, meet Perry." Sasha looked away, then went off to swing on a tire-swing hanging from the big tree. "You've got good kids," Perry said, handing Tjan a beer from the cooler under the picnic table. "Yup," Tjan said. He flipped the burgers and then looked at both of them. Lyenitchka was pushing her brother on the swing, a little too hard. Tjan smiled and looked back down at his burgers. Tjan cut the burgers in half and dressed them to his kids' exacting standards. They picked at them, pushed them onto each other's plates and got some into their mouths. "I've read your briefing on the ride," Tjan said, once his kids had finished and eaten half a package of Chutney Oreos for dessert. "It's pretty weird stuff." Perry nodded and cracked another beer. The cool air was weirding him out, awakening some atavistic instinct to seek a cave. "Yup, weird as hell. But they love it. Not just the geeks, either, though they eat it up, you should see it. Obsessive doesn't begin to cover it. But the civilians come by the hundreds, too. You should hear them when they come out: 'Jee-zus, I'd forgotten about those dishwasher-stackers, they were wicked! Where can I get one of those these days you figger?' The nostalgia's thick enough to cut with a knife." Tjan nodded. "I've been going over your books, but I can't figure out if you're profitable." "Sorry, that's me. I'm pretty good at keeping track of numbers, but getting them massaged into a coherent picture --" "Yeah, I know." Tjan got a far-away look. "How'd you make out on Kodacell, Perry? Finance-wise?" "Enough to open the ride, buy a car. Didn't lose anything." "Ah." Tjan fiddled with his beer. "Listen, I got rich off of Westinghouse. Not fuck-the-service-here-I'm-buying-this-restaurant rich, but rich enough that I never have to work again. I can spend the rest of my life in this yard, flipping burgers, taking care of my kids, and looking at porn." "Well, you were the suit. Getting rich is what suits do. I'm just a grunt."" Tjan had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed. "Now here's the thing. I don't *have* to work, but, Perry, I have *no idea* what I'm going to do if I don't work. The kids are at school all day. Do you have any idea how much daytime TV sucks? Playing the stock market is completely nuts, it's all gone sideways and upside down. I got an education so I wouldn't *have* to flip burgers for the rest of my life." "What are you saying, Tjan?"