Kulagin helped himself to a long pull of stimulant. He looked ragged. I’d never seen him without his face paint before. He said, "I don’t have the feeling for mob psychology that you Shapers have, so I have to make do with a very, very good memory...The last time I saw something like this was thirteen years ago. Someone spread the rumor that the Queen had tried to leave C-K, and the Advisers had restrained her by force. The upshot of that was the Crash of ’Forty-one, but the real killing came in the Rally that followed. I’ve been reviewing the tapes of the Crash, and I recognize the fins and flippers and big sharp teeth of an old friend. I can read his style in his maneuvering. It’s not the slick guile of a Shaper. It’s not the cold persistence of a Mechanist, either."