Sammy's eyes were round as saucers. He took one of the proffered wheels and spun it between opposing fingertips. Then, grinning, he picked up another wheel and the bike-frame and began to *juggle* them, one-two-three, hoop-la! Francis looked amused, rather than pissed -- giving up drink had softened his temper. His kids stopped working and laughed. Sammy laughed too. He transferred the wheels to his left hand, then tossed the frame high the air, spun around and caught it and then handed it all back to Francis. The kids clapped and he took a bow. "I didn't know you had it in you," Guignol said, patting him on the shoulder. Sammy, sweating and grinning like a fool, said, "Yeah, it's not something I get a lot of chances to do around the office. But did you see that? It was light enough to juggle! I mean, how exciting is all this?" He swept his arm around his head. "Between the sewage and the manufacturing and all these kids --" He broke off. "What do you do about education, Suzanne?" "Lots of kids bus into the local schools, or ride. But lots more home-school these days. We don't get a very high caliber of public school around here." "Might that have something to do with all the residents who don't pay property tax?" Guignol said pointedly. Suzanne nodded. "I'm sure it does," she said. "But it has more to do with the overall quality of public education in this state. 47th in the nation for funding." They were at her and Lester's place now. She led them through the front door and picked up the trash-can next to the little table where she sorted the mail after picking it up from her PO box at a little strip mall down the road. There was the postcard. She handed it silently to Sammy, who held it for a moment, then reluctantly passed it to Guignol. "You'd better hang on to it," he said, and she sensed that there was something bigger going on there. "Now we go see Lester," Suzanne said. He was behind the building in his little workshop, hacking DiaBolical. There were five different DiaBs running around him, chugging and humming. The smell of goop and fuser and heat filled the room, and an air-conditioner like a jet-engine labored to keep things cool. Still, it was a few degrees warmer inside than out. "Lester," Suzanne shouted over the air-conditioner din, "we have visitors." Lester straightened up from his keyboard and wiped his palms and turned to face them. He knew who they were based on his earlier conversation with Suzanne, but he also clearly recognized Sammy. "You!" he said. "You work for Disney?" Sammy blushed and looked away. Lester turned to Suzanne. "This guy used to come up, what, twice, three times a week." Sammy nodded and mumbled something. Lester reached out and snapped off the AC, filling the room with eerie silence and stifling heat. "What was that?" "I'm a great believer in competitive intelligence." "You work for Disney?"