Francis nodded. "We need ten people to stand guard in two shifts of five tonight. Young people. You'll get flashlights and phones, coffee and whatever else we can give you. Just keep the rubberneckers out." The rubberneckers were out of earshot. The account they'd get of this would come from the news-anchor who'd tell them how dangerous and dirty this place was. They'd never see what Suzanne saw, ten men and women forming up to one side of the crowd. Young braves and homegirls, people her age, their faces solemn. Francis oversaw the gathering up of belongings. Suzanne had never had a sense of how many people lived in the shantytown but now she could count them as they massed up by the roadside and began to walk: a hundred, a little more than a hundred. More if you counted the surprising number of babies. Lester conferred briefly with Francis and then Francis tapped three of the old timers and two of the mothers with babes in arms and they crammed into Lester's car and he took off. Suzanne walked by the roadside with the long line of refugees, listening to their murmuring conversation, and in a few minutes, Lester was back to pick up more people, at Francis's discretion. Perry was beside her now, his eyes a million miles away. "What now?" she said. "We put them in the workshop tonight, tomorrow we help them build houses." "At your place? You're going to let them stay?" "Why not? We don't use half of that land. The landlord gets his check every month. Hasn't been by in five years. He won't care." She took a couple more steps. "Perry, I'm going to write about this," she said. "Oh," he said. They walked further. A small child was crying. "Of course you are. Well, fuck the landlord. I'll sic Kettlewell on him if he squawks." "What do you think Kettlewell will think about all this?" "This? Look, this is what I've been saying all along. We need to make products for these people. They're a huge untapped market." What she wanted to ask was *What would Tjan say about this?* but they didn't talk about Tjan these days. Kettlewell had promised them a new business manager for weeks, but none had appeared. Perry had taken over more and more of the managerial roles, and was getting less and less workshop time in. She could tell it frustrated him. In her discussions with Kettlewell, he'd confided that it had turned out to be harder to find suits than it was finding wildly inventive nerds. Lots of people *wanted* to run businesses, but the number who actually seemed likely to be capable of doing so was only a small fraction. They could see the junkyard now. Perry pulled out his phone and called his server and touch-toned the codes to turn on all the lights and unlock all the doors.