I’m gearing myself up to do battle with the Star’s receptionists—all part of some conspiracy to misdirect all important phone calls, I’m fragging sure of it—when I decide to try her at home. The odds are much longer, but it’s one less hassle if they pan out. I key in 114 for directory assistance, then when the synthesized voice starts yammering, I enter the "special functions" code known to all Lone Star employees (and to most of Seattle’s shadow community as well). With "special functions" engaged, the directory search engine looks through more useful files than just the standard name-LTG-address drek 114 usually gives you. I key in my search string—in English, "Get me the number for one Ashburton, Catherine, age range twenty-five to thirty-five, employed by Lone Star, and make it snappy"—and hit the XQT key. A second later the screen flashes, "1 hit(s)", and asks for a second code, this one an authorization to reassure the poor machine that it’s okay to give me what I want. I rattle in the character string, and see Cat’s number displayed. LTG 5206 (15-2534)—that’s Tacoma, Menlo Park to be exact. Cat must be doing well for herself. Dossing down in that part of town isn’t cheap.