While I was mentally shuffling all the blank pieces around, my fingers were idly playing with the pocket secretary’s mini-trackball, scanning up and down through the text file. My eyes were on the display, but they weren’t really seeing it. Then suddenly I spotted something. Fragged if I know what it was; I’d scanned way past it before I could react. I don’t know what I saw. Not consciously—at the time, my conscious brain apparently wasn’t jacked into my eyes—but, equally apparently, whatever my eyes snagged on meant something to my subconscious. Meant enough to trigger an internal alarm sharp enough to jolt me fragging near off the bed.