I’ve always been a news junkie, a tendency repressed but not extinguished when I got into undercover work. How long since I checked in with what’s happening outside the tiny little sphere that’s my own existence? Too fragging long—three days at least. I wander the bands again looking for a newsbreak, then I’m in heaven when I hit something I recognize as the NewsNet feed—audio only, of course—out of Atlanta. The Westwind’s pilot and handling package are so smooth the thing feels like it wants to drive itself, so I give it free rein while I concentrate on Ted Turner’s spiritual descendants.