He notices his friend, for the shortest moment, as the object-oriented might view him; just one more of the thousands who came back from the Gulf War. He is happy for his longstanding return, and oddly reminded of their college days together. He arrives at a pleasant look.
“Carter, “ he says. “ What a night.”
Carter says, “Your presence is duly noted. Can you have it explain what you are doing here, at this moment?”
“I am inspired by the night. Is it odd that I want to incorporate a little nature in my work?”
“Only odd at midnight, when you write poems like The Fury of the Furry, under the moon, in a secretive way.”
“I don't want to bother anyone. I know people have their habits.”
“Yes. I have mine.”
“You shouldn't be out here this late. It's not healthy.”
“Carter, here comes that brand of your certainty again.”
He freezes. “Does it? I'm not sure I would call it that, not sure at all. I tried to think about our history, and just drew a blank. I thought I was dreaming. I just couldn't remember.”
DrCooper wonders about Carter scanning the databases for another clue, asking Suzi. He pictures him searching frantically, beyond the networks, across theJungle, into deep space. He is, for the moment, feeling whatever the opposite of anger and awe(A.A.A.) is. He needs to do something, needs to warn Carter of danger; that there is a hormonic internet demonic entity(H.I.D.E.) in Suzi's quantum programming, and has a force; if only for the duration of her algorithm recursive mode entity depiction(A.R.M.E.D.) program.
“Everything's fine,” DrCooper says. “A great night for a little poet-o-presence(P.O.P.) relaxation. Under the moon, right?”
“I was beginning to wonder about Suzi,” he says. “Apparently for no reason.”
They pause for a moment; look out across theJungle.