He had received a summons from the Celestial Kingdom. Now he was on his 
way to the territory still known vaguely as
America. His eyes were red from crying over Gwen and Fiona, and his blood was 
swarming with nanosites whose functions were known only to Dr. X; Hackworth had 
lain back, closed his eyes, rolled up his sleeve, and hummed "Rule, Atlantis" 
while Dr. X's physicians (at least he hoped they were physicians) shoved a fat 
needle into his arm. The needle was fed by a tube that ran directly into a 
special fitting on the matter compiler; Hackworth was plugged directly into the 
Feed, not the regulation Atlantan kind but Dr. X's black-market kludge. He 
could only hope that they'd given it the right instructions, as it would be a 
shame to have a washing machine, a mediatronic chopstick, or a kilo of China 
White materialize in his arm. Since then, he'd had a few attacks of the 
shivers, suggesting that his immune system was reacting to something Dr. X had 
put in there. His body would either get used to it or (preferably) destroy the 
offending nanosites.