NEAL STEPHENSON

The world is full of power and energy and a person can go far by just skimming off a tiny bit of it.

The LEDs on the pizza box say: 29:32, and the guy who ordered it-Mr. Pudgely and his neighbors, the Pinkhearts and the Roundass clan-are all gathered on the front lawn of their microplantation, prematurely celebrating. Like they had just bought the winning lottery ticket From their front door they have a clear view all the way down to Oahu Road, and they can see that nothing is on its way that looks like a CosaNostra delivery car. Oh, there is curiosity-sniffing interest-at this Kouner with the big square thing under her arm-maybe a portfolio, a new ad layout for some Caucasian supremacist marketing honcho in the next plat over, but-The Pudgelys and the Pinkhearts and the Roundasses are all

staring at her, slackjawed. She has just enough residual energy to swing into their driveway. Her momentum carries her to the top. She stops next to Mr. Pudgely’s Acura and Mrs. Pudgely’s bimbo box and steps off her plank. The spokes, noting her departure, even themselves out, plant themselves on the top of the driveway, refuse to roll backward.

A blinding light from the heavens shines down upon them. Her Knight Visions keep her from being blinded, but the customers bend their knees and hunch their shoulders as though the light were heavy. The men hold their hairy forearms up against their brows, swivel their great tubular bodies to and fro, trying to find the source of the illumination, muttering clipped notations to each other, brief theories about its source, fully in control of the unknown phenomenon. The women coo and flutter. Because of the magical influence of the Knight Visions, Y.T. can still see the LEDs: 29:54, and that’s what it says when she drops the pizza on Mr. Pudgely’s wing tips.

The mystery light goes off.

___________ The others are still blinded, but Y.T. sees into the night with her Knight Visions, sees all the way into near infrared, and she sees the source of it, a double.bladed stealth helicopter thirty feet above the neighbor’s house. It is tastefully black and unadorned, not a news crew-though another helicopter, an old—

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