"It doesn’t add up," Laura said, sinking easily into brandy-fueled meditation. "It’s like beachcombing after a storm, all kinds of Net flotsam thrown up on the golden Grenadian shore.... So if you push on these people, maybe they go neatly to pieces, if you hit the right flaw. But too much pressure, and it all welds together and you got a monster on your hands. I was thinking today—the old Nazis, they used to believe in the Hollow Earth and all kinds of mystical crap.... But their trains ran on time and their state cops were efficient as hell...."