Marcia had some unexpected surprises for me the next morning. I had received no fewer than 26 messages of congratulation from the people in the emergency ward and the family of Mr. Fieldburg. There was also a message from the makers of the machine I had used, requesting an explanation of how I had managed to position it alone (I told them the truth--I had incorporated a lot of forceps and it was a very risky procedure). Finally, one or two reporters had requested interviews--I was wary of being under the pressure of an interview, so Marcia suggested that instead I prepare a statement and distribute it to whomever desired one.
	I had no appointments that afternoon, so I decided to close early. On an impulse, I called my friend Kappelmann to see how he was faring. He, like Chiren, was happy to hear from me, and invited me to his apartment that evening for some stargazing--he was an amateur astronomer, he even had his own telescope. I left a brief message for Gonzu, saying I wouldn't be home for dinner, and don't wait up for me (it was only later that I wondered what his reaction had been upon receiving it!).
	I arrived at Kappelmann's building a bit after sunset. We had a glass of wine while the stars came out; Kappelmann did his best to tell me about his thesis work (I confess, most of the chemistry was unfamiliar to me) and I talked about the clinic. "Speaking of clinical work, Ido, I've something to show you." He threw a printout of the evening's news to me. To my surprise, my photo appeared in one corner of it, along with Fieldburg's and another doctor's, under the caption "Lone Doctor Saves Stranger." There were even a few quotes from the press release I had prepared.
	"What do you think?"
	"To be honest, I feel shocked." I handed the paper back to him. "Why is this considered such exceptional news?"
	"Don't you recognize it, Ido?" Kappelmann said, rising. "This is precisely the sort of act every doctor wishes he has the chance to perform--sudden emergency, no other assistance, no interference from a crying spouse or a 'know-it-all' neighbor, overcoming staggering odds to save a person's life. Ido, you have earned the respect--and envy--of everyone around you. You are a bona fide hero."
	I opened my mouth to protest, but then shut it. Humility aside, I supposed that I _was_ a hero, if only for a little while. Perhaps I hadn't done anything as spectacular as Kappelmann had said, but people need heroes; not merely legendary, semi-mythical people, or even anecdotal ones--heroes need to be tangible, someone you can look upon every day. I supposed that I would be obligated to take my turn for the audience.
	Kappelmann remarked that it was probably getting dark enough to be able to view the stars, so I finished my glass and we put on our jackets. We climbed up onto the roof of his building, colder than I would have liked, but Kappelmann had found an area that was sheltered from the night winds where he had set up a lean-to with his astronomy equipment.
	"Hello, Tiphares!" I said in a loud voice as we walked across the stone and between the heating pipes. "I will be your new hero! Please form one line, no jostling! I will autograph your stethoscopes one at a time!"
	"Quiet, will you?" said Kappelmann, trying not to laugh. "We are not supposed to be on the roof."
	"Why not?"
	"I don't know. But I think that it is for the same reasons that buildings down close to the Ridge cannot be so many meters tall. Really, do they presume we all must have a view? Psychologically, windows should be enough." We were now on a corner of the building, a few meters from the ledge, in a small alcove between two service entrances. A blue plastic tarp was draped from the right angle the two prominences formed down onto the ground. Kappelmann pulled out a wooden pole of some kind from underneath one edge and propped up the edge of the tarp, exposing a compact telescope, a pair of folding stools, and a small gas heater and stove. Kappelmann moved the telescope out into the open and began to tinker with it, while I turned on the stove and made us some coffee.
	"So, then, if I cannot give autographs to my admirers, what use is there in being a hero?" I asked.
	Kappelmann chuckled. "Oh, you get to be attacked viciously by your critics, be asked to be a 'star witness' at boring court trials, write books that explain 'science' to those high-society fops who want to impress themselves...look at Venus!"
	"Oh, will I be popular with women?"
	"No, I meant that this is a wonderful night to view the planet...but if you try, I suppose you could."
	I moved over towards where he was seated, and took over the reigns of the telescope. I knew that there would not be much to look at, thanks to Venus' famous clouds. "Alas, I really don't know anything about women."
	"You don't, do you, Ido?"
	"I beg your pardon?"
	"I apologize, that was too blunt. But Ido, you haven't courted anyone, woman or man, for your whole adult life. Now, I know you. You are a good, strong man, intelligent, and you've just settled yourself in a secure career. You're the ideal man, Ido--what's holding you back?"
	I stepped away from the telescope, and Kappelmann began to aim it at a different section of the sky. "I don't know...it's not that I don't desire a woman's companionship, and love...maybe I just haven't met the right one."
	"Oh, I know a wonderful woman I could set you up with...where is that binary star?"
	"You mean Junia Chiren, don't you?"
	Kappelmann was quiet for a bit before he said, "Ido, Chiren worries me."
	"And I. You watch her the more closely, what is the truth behind her behavior? Is she really being so cruel?'
	"It is true, Ido. It seems to me as though she is hungry, positively hungry, for power. First it was one of her professors, then a government official, then a police colonel, who knows where it will end?" He moved away from the telescope for some coffee and I took his place. "She is a moth, drawn ever closer towards the light of a flame. I can only hope she will come to her senses before she cannot save herself."
	He put down his cup, excusing himself for a call of nature. Intent on obtaining some other view, I tried to realign the telescope, but I must have made some manner of mistake, for the lens dipped toward the ground and the eyepiece flew upwards, almost hitting me. On an impulse, I looked through the telescope, towards the ground. I presumed that I would see the Ridge, or the security instruments; but, in an instant, I realized why citizens were not allowed to ascend beyond a certain height.
	Thousands of meters below, I watched two men scream mutely under the aurora of a streetlight. One was clearly drunk, from the manner in which he brandished a bottle rather shakily, the other was terrified but trying desperately to contain his adversary. At once, a cyborg with a woman's head stepped between the two, and began to plead with the two of them. The drunk moved to strike her; but a group of three men intervened, and pulled him away. The pair observed their departure, then fell into one another's arms, crying with relief. From out of the shadows came a boy and a girl, all in night clothes. They embraced the couple, helped them to their feet, and half-carried them out of my field of vision.
	Heavens above, I thought. They _are_ civilized.
	Footsteps a little away announced Kappelmann's return. "Oh, Kappelmann!" I asked, "how in the name of the Heavens to you change the field of view on this contraption?"
	"Here, let me show you; but henceforth, I'll move it around." Kappelmann, I remembered, disliked others interfering with 'his' work. "How did this happen, Ido? Is there anything on the ground worth looking at?"
	"I would not know. There's only the scrap, and the people that live off it."
	Kappelmann looked at me quizzically. "Ido, you that not even dogs could live off the scrap heap. The only people below us work in the Outlands, and they are far away." He returned to work on the telescope. "Be sensible. Now, let us see what else is out this evening..."

	I returned home tired and with a somewhat dazed mind; I feverishly hoped that my gaffe with Kappelmann had not given me away. Hoping not to wake Gonzu, I quietly unlocked the door and pushed it open slowly.
	The lights were all on. In my kitchen stood two men in black uniforms.
	"Are you Dr. Daisuke Ido?"
	"...yes."
	"Please come with us."

	I was alone in my cell; lawbreaking was almost unheard of in Tiphares. The walls, the bars, even the cot itself were all bright white, like a school or a hospital. I know I must have spent a few days incarcerated, but the snippets I remember could be compressed into an afternoon or separated over years...
	...I looked out the window as my barrister went over the facts of my arrest. A glider had been found a few blocks downwind; a window had been repaired; there had been signs of a strange person in the apartment, such as water running when none should be; but most damning of all was the confession of a man who had been found the day after the storm wandering through the streets, without home or name or the Stamp. Frankly, my councilor said, he thought that the best line for me to pursue would be that there had been insufficient evidence for a search warrant.
	I rested my forehead on my arm, my arm on the window's sill. The sun gave a faint yellow color to my white penitentiary gown. I felt a slight warmth through the pane. "What will happen to Tyson?"
	"Who?"
	"The man they found in my apartment."
	"Ah, that...thing. It will be used as an exhibit against you, almost certainly. Afterwards, it will be disposed of. Really, Dr. Ido, please keep your mind on your own business."
	...Litton came to visit me, whether out of caring or formality I don't know. "Well, Ido...I really cannot find words."
	"For what?"
	"For many things. Sorrow, mostly. Even if you somehow become a free man, your name is an evil word. It will not matter to the man on the street what you've accomplished, you will be forever branded with this act. Such a fate should not happen to anyone."
	He paced back and forth, then seized a stool and pulled it underneath him. He stared at me, as though trying to bore through my skin. "Why did you do it, Ido? What under the Heavens motivated you to keep a dangerous, unpredictable man in your house for so many days?"
	I snapped to attention. "What have you heard about that?"
	"He crashed into your apartment on the day of the storm. You had such trouble with him you had to sedate him most of the time. He was an uncultured brute that he tried to escape at every opportunity--the papers portrayed him as though he was fairly ingenious, too."
	"That is not the truth!" I cried. I rose, and began approaching Litton. "The night of the storm I was..."
	"Don't tell me!"
	"...all alone and--what?"
	"Don't tell me, Ido!"
	"What? What is the matter with you suddenly?"
	The instant that I had tried to rebut what he had learned, Litton had been thrust into sheer panic. He now had his back pressed up against the wall of the corridor outside my cell, his skin very pale, his hands stopping up his ears. Then he saw my confusion, and began to talk.
	"Think about the circumstance, Ido. Suppose that the story going round is not the truth. Someone doubtlessly thought it worth the time and effort to concoct--someone with much more power than myself. If I were to listen to you, perhaps they would endeavor to silence me as well. Or...what if I were to try to tell others your story, then? You have fallen so far, I doubt very much I would be believed. I, and only I, would be in dire straits.
	"If you want my advice, deliver a statement during your trial. It will be in the record for all to hear and judge. You cannot guarantee that you will be heard fairly, for now; hold your tongue until a better time.
	"Can you understand me, Ido?"
	He had recovered from his fear, and was standing prim, proper, perfect, looking entirely unlike the man I had seen cowering up against the wall a moment before. He was ready to take his leave; he merely needed my ascension as a formality.
	"No. Placed in this dilemma, rather than trying to find its cause or historical precedents, you turn your back on me. You make no effort to rally your courage and unveil what you fear, you only meekly obey what you do not know. Good-bye, Litton."
	...Relatives I hadn't seen, or cared much for, began to appear. One by one, each would make some token statement deploring my behavior, ask a few questions as to my own health and well-being, and then depart. Without exception, none asked about my motivations, or took any interest in my defense; but then, why should they? Courtesy dictates that you must be true to your kin, even if you don't care two chips about them, or haven't for years. And, though I was behaving in a positively odious manner, and I had been so peculiar since my parents' death, imagine the scandal if they were to be discourteous!
	...Chiren was my last visitor, that I do recall. She arrived late in the day, immediately after her work day was over, she said. I admit that I was somewhat surprised to see her; no-one else close to me had visited since Litton had come; doubtless, all had listened to his report as the truth of my incarcerated life, and who only knew what he had told them.
	Chiren sat upon the stool that so many before her had used, lit herself a cigarette, then said, "I find it difficult to believe what they say about you, Ido."
	"Who is saying what?"
	"Everyone says the same thing--that you haven't changed, you are in good spirits, you are penitent for what you have done." She breathed deeply through her cigarette. "None say why you did what you did. None say anything about where your penitence comes from. I sense eagerness and fear from those who have seen you."
	"Litton asked me not to tell him my side of the story." I moved closer to her, sitting at the foot of my cot. "Can you deduce why?"
	"If Litton made such a request, he most certainly knew what he was doing," she replied. I took that as a veiled concurrence. "What will you do now, Ido?"
	I thought as I spoke. "Naturally, my barrister has given me some advice...of course, I decide what of that to use, since I can only represent myself. I suppose that, since I did in fact break the law, all I can do now is plead guilty to the charges and accept my punishment."
	Chiren stared, mouth agape. Her cigarette dropped to the floor. "But-but, Ido, you can protest the search warrant, you can be freed on a technicality regardless of that thing they found in..."
	I glared at her. "Chiren, I know you don't know any better, as I didn't know any better, but kindly refrain from referring to Dr. Harold Tyson as an object. At least give him some token dignity."
	"Ido, this isn't about...Tyson, or whomever, this is about _you_! You are a citizen, you can still save yourself. If we work together, we can still salvage some of your career, maybe move somewhere else and start again..."
	"Chiren, this is madness! I have no friends and no family, my career has been cut piecemeal, my life has been distorted by the press, you should be the one saving yourself! Why should you risk everything you have for me?"
	"Because I love you, Daisuke Ido," she said, quietly, calmly. "I-I need to know how you feel about me."
	I was taken aback. "You are serious, aren't you?"
	"Yes."
	"As serious as you were with Professor Griffin and the Police Colonel?"
	It was, I know, the single most cruel thing I could have said. I did not want to hurt her; I merely wanted to make a clean break, so that she would remain untangled by the evil net that had been cast around me. I knew that there would be pain; but I know, with the wisdom of hindsight, that I did not have to be that utterly barbaric. Chiren's expression, of shock and anger, still gives me grief to remember.
	"Ido! How can you be so cruel? You never have cared for anyone else but yourself, have you? As a child, you never paid the least attention to me, did you? Just studied hard like Mommy and Daddy's good little boy, always out to get the best for yourself! What did I have to do to get your attention? Follow you through the torture of medical school, spend my free time with those good-for-naught brats because my grades weren't good enough for me to get a job, sleep with anything with a cock? And then, for this? For _this_?" She was sobbing; I wanted to comfort her, but the time when I might have had passed aeons ago. "For you to treat me like garbage; less than garbage, your 'Doctor Tyson' seems more important than me. Enough! I'll see you in Hell, Daisuke Ido!" And, stumbling off down the corridor, she left me.
	I can assure you, Junia Chiren was never suspected of involvement with myself and Gonzu; and I could not care less about any truths, or lies, she told. But I wonder, to this day; did I do the right thing, to spare her from my fall by tearing our friendship asunder? Did you come into my life as a second chance?

	The Hall of Justice is the only court in the whole of Tiphares. It is immensely high, and as long and wide as our building. The walls--one for the judge's podium, one for the jury, one where the officers of the law guard the entrance and one for the audience--are deliberately dimly lit. In the middle of the floor, swathed in glaring bright light, are two circles, one gold and one silver. In the gold would stand the witnesses that brought evidence against me; I stood in the silver for the duration of my trial, permitted to raise my eyes no higher than the eyes of the witnesses, and to look nowhere but foreword or at a witness.
	Although I entered a guilty plea to the charge of aiding an extra-Tipharean, I was obligated to undergo an official inquest by virtue of the nature of my crime. The state presented a number of witnesses: both arresting officers; a Water Bureau official; the man who had repaired my window; a man who had found Gonzu's glider. They could not call Gonzu or his brother as witnesses, as extra-Tiphareans are not even  considered human beings in the eyes of the law; they did introduce the confession into the record, and had asked the arresting officers to identify Gonzu.
	I saw him when he was drawn foreword into the light for identification. Although he did not appear to have undergone physical abuse, he showed clear signs of ill-treatment; he had lost a good deal of his former vigor and physique, he seemed to have difficulty following the proceedings around him, he showed signs of sleep deprivation. I was partly relieved; I had feared that he would have suffered more.
	There was no cross-examination allowed for any of the witnesses, nor did I desire any. I called my lone witness.
	"Please state for the court your name and occupation."
	"Geoffrey Dickens, I am president of and a researcher with Alliance Medical Products."
	"Dr. Dickens, are you at all acquainted with myself, the defendant?"
	"Not personally, though I did send you, the defendant, a letter earlier this week."
	"Could you, in your own words, summarize the nature of that letter?"
	"Dr. Ido had single-handedly placed and operated one of our DG-109 units; these are machines that break up clots in difficult-to-operate locations, such as small and easily damaged capillaries, or vessels in the brain. Virtually everyone at AMP was amazed that Dr. Ido had been able to operate on a stroke victim on his own, as the DG-109 is difficult even for two people to position and operate, as it is (we acknowledge) complex to thread the micrometal tip to the position of the clot and then send waves of the proper frequency along it to break it up."
	"What was Dr. Ido's response?"
	"I could not say, it was unclear. He seemed evasive."
	There were no more questions. There was no cross-examination. "High Honor, I would like to make a statement concerning the testimony of Dr. Dickens."
	"Granted. It will be entered into the record and may be used for or against your case."
	"I would like to plead for the life of the extra-Tipharean known as Dr. Harold Tyson, here identified as 'Exhibit C'. He assisted me in the use of the DG-109 unit; without his help, I am positive that Arnold Fieldburg would not be alive today. That is all."

	"Dr. Daisuke Ido. By your own admission you did house and care for an extra-Tipharean. This is an extraordinary crime; and it deserves an appropriate punishment, that others may learn from your example the foolishness of maintaining the lowly. Fortunately, there are less than a handful of appropriate precedents. It is the view of this court, and courts before it, that if you are so set upon living with those of the lower world, you may join them for the duration of your natural and cybernetic life. I hearby sentence you to be expelled this very day from the Floating City. You may write and present a list of one set of clothing and two other personal effects, and their approximate locations, and present it to the court for review. You are allowed no other belongings. The Law has spoken."

	Gonzu stood before me in the hallway below the courtroom, wearing the same light clothes he had worn before in the court. The chains he had worn were now at his feet. He looked unfed, tired, and in poor health.
	"Ido, what...what's going to happen to me?"
	"You're going home. I'm coming with you." We embraced.
	I refused his offer to carry my one bag for me--an antique metal suitcase, with wheels on the bottom. I did not reveal its contents, save to say that he would have a chance to see them before the day was over. I did ask him to carry my heavy black overcoat and hat--I reasoned that I wouldn't need them until nightfall. We walked together down the corridor, to the waiting pod in the basement of the Hall of Justice.
	"But Ido, how were you able to pull it off? Did your speech work?"
	I smiled, and shook my head. "No, I delivered the speech merely as a reference, so that those charged in the future with this crime might know that they are not alone in their sentiments. I saved you through a more traditional approach. Promise you won't get mad...the list I gave to the judge included the location of all the money I have in the world, and he agreed to have you classified as my pet. You're one of the two objects I can bring down with me."
	We climbed into the pod for the trip to the tubes. "By the way, how are you feeling? Did they give you any medication?"
	"None. A little food, a little water, and one bath right before the trial. How are you, anyway? What's up with the mark on your forehead?"
	"It's violet, not red, because I have lost my position. People can recognize me if I ever try to come back, but I won't. Never."
	"Why not?"
	"Let me tell you some history, Gonzu." The pod began to move underneath us. "A long time ago, there was no Scrapyard, or Tiphares, or Outlands. There were just people--all different sorts--sprinkled all over the ground. Over time, some of the cities they built became quite powerful. A few of the people even built great vehicles for the greater glory of their cities. They were called rockets, and with them these people built a few new cities above the Earth.
	"But one day, a ship like none ever seen before appeared. No-one knows where it was coming from, or going to. But it crashed into one of the mighty cities in space, which fell to Earth. There was a great explosion, and many people, the few who were in the city and many on the ground, died. It's more complicated than that, but I am trying to explain to you even though you don't know a good deal of the background--that is, society before the deaths. You understand?"
	"Yeah. I'm following you."
	"The people on the ground that were still alive decided, for some reason, that the ship had been on a suicide mission when it hit the city. It was then decided that other ships like that one might come. The fear became more founded after a strange radio transmission was intercepted; people said that, expressed as a digital message, it appeared like a war tapestry. I do not know if this is so, I can only report what I have heard.
	"A decision by the leaders of the cities, with broad public support, was that a certain aristocracy should be formed from a group of people who were most qualified to make war or defend the Earth, and that these people should receive unlimited supplies and training. Based upon 23 genetic factors--which I cannot recall, I am sorry to say--a small percentage of the population was selected. The city of Tiphares was constructed for them to live and grow in, and a corresponding battle station in space was erected on the other end of the Shaft, for the battles to be fought from."
	"So what then?"
	"Well, that's where the history books end. I know that every year, a few of the students with the best genes and the best test results are sent up the Shaft. I was told that the people on the ground lived in the Outlands and grew us food and mined ores, and that they were robotically processed in the Factories. From your attitude, I would presume that everyone on the ground has forgotten about the War in the Sky, which (if it's still going on) has been continuing for several hundred years."
	I looked at him and smiled. "That's one of the reasons I endeavored to save you, Gonzu. We both had our prejudices, but you knew that yours were merely biases; I tried resting mine on fact. You are the greater man."

	Sometime later we arrived at the tube. I knew that the tubes usually only received goods, so I presumed that our arrival would be cause for an interruption in normal activites. My feelings were justified; a security robot was on hand to escort us to the tubes. I paused to put on my hat and coat; I could feel the night air whistling by underneath our very feet.
	"Dr. Daisuke Ido, I remind you that you are allowed to bring two personal objects with you," said the robot, as we walked the final 20 meters toward our point of departure; the tube was a massive, gray thing, dangling ominously downwards. "You must present them to me for final verification before you depart."
	"Depart?" I asked. "You mean you don't escort us down the tube?"
	"No. Please observe the pod positioned along the railway. You will enter that, and press the red button to allow the computer to send you on your way. Please present your personal objects."
	"First is my pet, Gonzu," I said, indicating Gonzu and opening the hatch to the pod. Sure enough, there was only one button on the dashboard. It appeared simple enough to operate. I raised my suitcase and put it on the edge of the pod's cockpit.
	"Affirmative. Please now present the second object."
	"My second object is an heirloom from my family, a Raketehammer [9] ." The open briefcase exposed two parts of a brass-colored weapon. I lifted out first the top, with a cylinder, tapering to a sharp point on one side and ending in a motor on the other, at its end; then the slimmer bottom, adorned with only a button labeled 'danger'. With two satisfying 'clang' sounds, I fit the halves together. "Gonzu, get in the pod."
	"Please allow me to further examine you 'Raketehammer'," said the robot.
	I glanced briefly at him to determine the distance between us--one and one-half meters at most--then, remarking "Examine at your leisure," I detonated the N2O [10] cartridge.
	I know that it was wrong of me to destroy the robot, even if it was not self-aware; I had no right to attack the property of Tiphares. But to me, it was a symbol: a symbol of the society that did not permit me to come to terms with my parents' death, and my uncle's madness; a society that had used my comrade's brother to indict him, then killed him as a reward; a society that had assumed that where you come from, geographically and genetically, was a true gauge of your worthiness and virtue, and had trained its children to look nowhere else; and so I hammered its body into shrapnel.

	This was many years ago that I fell to earth from my home in the clouds. Gonzu helped me establish a practice, encouraged me to register as a hunter-warrior, and even set up a restaurant to generate a little more money for us. I grew to love him as a friend, as a brother; and together we slipped into the community. When, some years later, Dr. Chiren appeared, unannounced but bearing a violet Stamp, we tried to assist her as well as we could; but she resented our help, and as quick as the wind went off to make her own way.
	Now you have come into our lives; and though you do not know it, and cannot control it, you have changed Gonzu and me. I never imagined being a father could be an enjoyable responsibility, or that I could grow as you do. Every day you amaze and enthrall me, as you behave with simultaneous innocence and maturity. I dream along side you, of the hunt, of our family, of trying to recover the past you must once have had.
	If you should ever ask about the mark on my forehead, or where I was trained, I will show this to you--that it might answer some questions and provoke a few more. What you will say, my angel, I cannot predict; so I must be prepared to offer this as only a beginning.

With my deepest love,

Daisuke Ido, CM. D.



[1] CM. D. is the cybermedical equivalent of an M. D.
[2] Bioluminescence--certain kinds of single-celled animals are able to produce their own light by breaking down simple sugars and releasing the energy as light.
[3] Author's note--this is a _very_ good soup recipe that I got from my friend Noelle.
[4] Based on a never-produced opera by Sir Gerald Hargreaves, this tells the tale of the romance of Achilles and Atalanta just before the sinking of Atlantis.
[5] Thermals--rising pockets of warm air, frequently used by birds to gain additional altitude with ease.
[6] Torpor--the sleeplike state a cyborg's brain goes through as it becomes readjusted to receiving "normal" feedback from its body.
[7] Retronecrotic trauma--if the circumstances of a person's death have been particularily traumatic, they may experience temporary insanity in reliving the events of their death. They can occasionally become violent, so electricity is generally supplied externally to restrict movement. When performed, treatment consists of intensive therapy and anti-psychotic drugs.
[8] By Edgar Allen Poe.
[9] Literally, rocket-hammer--a personal weapon usually powered by a highly explosive fuel.
[10] N2O--Dinitrogen oxide, or 'nitro', is frequently used as an accelerant.

Copyright 1996 by Daniel Snyder. Permission granted to distribute in any digital/binary/e-mail form; however, any physical printing is prohibited. All characters in this work are fictional, and any resemblance between persons living or deceased is coincidental. Based on characters created by Yukito Kishiro.
Special thanks to Marco "Incredible! There's no violence!" De La Cruz, without whom this story might never have appeared. Please send all comments to Daniel Snyder at snydder@ocf.berkeley.edu.