Lawrence Pritchard Waterhouse has just demolished another enemy cryptosystem: Azure/Pufferfish may now be mounted like a stuffed head on the wall of the Basement. And indeed, looking at those numbers he feels the same kind of letdown that a big game hunter must feel when he’s stalked some legendary beast halfway across Africa and finally brought it down with a slug through the heart, walked up to the corpse, and discovered that after all it’s just a big, messy, pile of meat. It’s dirty and it’s got flies on it. Is that all there is to it? Why didn’t he solve this thing a long time ago? All of the old Azure/Pufferfish intercepts can be decrypted now. He’ll have to read them, and they will turn out to be the usual numb mutterings of giant bureaucracies trying to take over the world. He doesn’t, frankly, care anymore. He just wants to get the hell out of here and get married, play the organ, and program his Digital Computer, and hopefully get someone to pay him a salary to do one or the other. But Mary’s in Brisbane and the war’s not over yet—we haven’t even gotten around to invading Nippon, for crissakes, and conquering the place is going to take forever , with all those plucky Nipponese women and children drilling on soccer fields with pointed bamboo staves—and it’s probably going to be something like 1955 before he can even get discharged from the military. The war is not over yet, and as long as it goes on they will need him to stay down here in the Basement doing more of what he just did.