Peter stood up and crossed to the window. Outside he saw a man walking up and
down the street. He’d been there all morning. Every so often some ragged-looking
pure human or ork showed up and talked with the man for a few minutes. Chip
deals on a fine spring morning. Two years ago Peter wouldn’t have guessed what was going on. Chip dealers and chipheads wouldn’t have been part of his
field of thoughts. Now he’d forgotten almost everything he’d once learned in
school, and he was alert to the scoop on the streets.