“What the hell am I paying you for!?” The president of Jon co. scowled from his tiny perch on my desk top. I could make out shapes scurrying behind him, unpaid student interns and aids.

“There’s no guarantee here, Johnny boy. The feed is the feed.”

“Fine. But get me something- or I’ll block you from every Forest server in existence, got it?” It was funny that he knew so little of the empire he ruled. For dignity sake I made a show of concern.

“Right- I’m all fire-wire, sire.”

His screen went black as the I.C.E. went ape-shit over in the Villages.

Ah, some data-pusher recently came into a series of unmarked credits. I grinned. The money makes the real paths from Sherwood Forest.