Miles stepped back in his mind to think about this. "Oh, I guess I knew a half dozen guys, and one girl, who were pretty good. She was probably the best, other than me," he bragged. "Some chicken." "Excuse me? Chicken?" "Oh, sorry." Miles looked up in thought. "Ah, chicks, fox, look- er, sweet meat, gash, you know?" "Do you mean she's very pretty?" Miles suppressed an audible chuckle. "Yeah, that's right. Real pretty, but real smart, too. Odd combination, isn't it?" he smiled a wicked smile. Homosoto ignored the crudeness. "What are your politics, Mr. Foster?" "Huh? My politics? What the hell has that got to do with any- thing?" Miles demanded. "Just answer the question, please, Mr. Foster?" Homosoto quietly ordered. Miles was getting incensed. "Republican, Democrat? What do you mean? I vote who the fuck I want to vote for. Other than that, I don't play." "Don't play?" Homosoto briefly pondered the idiom. "Ah, so. Don't play. Don't get involved. Is that so?" "Right. They're all fucked. I vote for the stupidest assholes running for office. Any office. With any luck he'll win and really screw things up." Homosoto hit one of Miles hot buttons. Politics. He listened attentively to Miles as he carried on. "That's about the only way to fix anything. First fuck it up. Real bad. Create a crisis. Since the Government ignores whoever or whatever isn't squeaking that's the only way to get any atten- tion. Make noise. Once you create a crisis, Jeez, just look at Granada and Panama and Iraq to justify Star Wars, you get a lot of people on for the ride. Just look at the national energy debate. Great idea, 30 years and $5 trillion late. Then, 'ooooh!', they say. 'We got a big problem. We better fix it.' Then they all want to be heroes and every podunk politico shoots off his mouth about the latest threat to humanity. " "That's your politics?" "Sure. If you want to get something fixed, first fuck it up so bad that everyone notices and then they'll be crawling up your ass trying to help you fix it." "Very novel, Mr. Foster. Very novel and very cynical." Homosoto looked mildly amused. "Not meant to be. Just true." "It seems to me that you hold no particular allegiance. Would that be a fair observation?" Homosoto pressed the same line of questioning. "To me. That's my allegiance. And not much of anything else." Miles sounded defensive. "Then, Mr. Foster, what does it take to make you a job offer. I am sure money isn't everything to a man like you." Homosoto leaned back. All 10 of his fingers met in mirror image fashion and performed push ups on each other.