The night plods forth... a lone programmer in an empty apartment hunches over an aged keyboard scripting, comparing, and logging the differences between Thursday night's backup and the current set of tables and procedures.

Phase three is almost complete.



Tick tock.

Scripts are being slowly converted and stored.

Three hundred ninty two of four-oh-six.

Three ninty-nine.

Success!

Twelve miles east across town his connection terminates in an empty office building. The monitors glow with mirth as they shelter the activities from the rats that turn the building into a eighty's german disco-tek.

Phase four has begun. Quixotically the figure notices this batch has only four hundred and four scripts. Puzzeling. Two have jumped ship.

Phase five will probably start in the morn. Each script mated with its twin. The outcomes recorded for discussion tomorrow.

The synthpop beats continue.

Eight miles to the south a cold beverage awaits the solitary hacker.

He is thirsty, but tired. What to do, what to do?

With a stifled groan he throws on some cargo shorts, tosses on a semi clean shirt, and heads out into the Halloween seasoned night.

It is dark and crisp.

Three ninty-seven out of four-oh-four.

There is a hint of adventure to be found among the well worn path to his place. The question is will he have eyes to see it?