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nameless documentary narrator. Using biollogic programs to manipulate the human body is
`ungodly,' they say. And to implant tiny machines in the blood, to let some programmer's code actually broadcast images into the brain ... Unnatural! A
sin!
    Natch paused the display and snapped for emphasis. Onscreen, a
youth was frozen in mid-scowl, his sunburned fist raised in defiance at
some unseen foe. "Remember the program that started raising blood
pressures in all the orbital colonies?" said Natch. "That was just two
years ago. Twenty-three hundred dead, and a harsh military response
from the Defense and Wellness Council. But do you think they've had their fill of bloodshed? Of course not! The Pharisees haven't been idle
since then. They've been plotting and scheming and studying programming techniques, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to
strike.

    "When do the Pharisees tend to attack? On days of religious significance, of course. Like the Feast of All Saints. Like Jesus Joshua
Smith's Birthday.
    "Like the Day of the Dead.
    "Think about it! Couldn't the Pharisees have figured out a way to
disrupt the financial markets or Dr. Plugenpatch or the multi network
by now? Couldn't they have chosen tomorrow to launch their opening
salvo in the next holy war against us `connectibles'? Isn't it possible the
Defense and Wellness Council is shoring up its defenses right now to
prepare for a major onslaught by some frightening new breed of black
code?"
    Horvil was totally captivated by Natch's little narrative. He leaned
forward on the edge of the sofa, shifting his attention nervously
between the wildly gesticulating Natch and the ominous figure on the
viewscreen with the unkempt hair and dirty robe. "It is possible, isn't
it!" he gasped.
    "And if all this is true ... wouldn't November lst be a very
unlucky day for the Patel Brothers to launch a product upgrade?"
    Jara felt Natch's plot snap into focus, and for one sickening instant
she saw the world through the fiefcorp master's warped lenses. Colors
faded away, blacks and whites dissolved into a miasma of indistinct
gray. "So you want us to tell people our friends at the Defense and Wellness Council say something big is about to happen, and wait for the rumors
to clog up the gossip networks?"
    "I don't want anything clogged up. I want fucking bedlam."
    "And you think the Patel Brothers will catch wind of all this and
postpone their product launch to a day with a slower news cycle."
    Horvil shook off the jitters and sat back in thought. "So that's why you've been pushing us so hard on NiteFocus 48," he said. "A near-perfect program ... launched on a day where there's no competition ...
That just might cause Primo's to edge us up a notch or two in the ratings."

    Jara frowned. She now gleaned why Merri and Serr Vigal had been
excluded from this early-morning rendezvous; they would never participate in such a scheme. In fact, now that Jara thought about it,
Natch had been excluding them from a lot of ethically shady errands
like this lately. A thought slithered through the back of Jara's mind.
What did that say about Natch's opinion of her? She purposefully let
it go.
    Natch restarted the video. They watched a squad of Defense and
Wellness Council officers execute a coordinated strike on a crowd of
restless Pharisees standing on a hilltop. The Pharisees fired laser rifles
wildly at the white-robed figures materializing all around them. But
the figures they hit were nothing but ghostly multi projections, spotters for the real strike force lining up behind them. A volley of needlesized darts flew through the air, lodging themselves in the flesh of their
adversaries and unloading their deadly cargo of toxic chemicals and
molecule-sized machines of war. Within seconds, the fight was over
and the Pharisees lay motionless on the dirty ground.
    "It's a nice theory, Natch," Jara said, "but I doubt one new program
could cause us to jump five slots on