There’s real tension in my chest and my gut as I do. The screen fills with a full-color image, a newsfax-type shot of some kind of corporate ceremony—a ribbon-cutting for a new building or some such drek. In the foreground are two slags in high-tone four-piece suits who’ve got drek-eating grins plastered on their faces as they cut a ribbon with an oversized pair of scissors. Both elves, one of them’s friend Timothy Telestrian. "Who’s the other guy?" I ask.