An old binome shook his head as he glanced from his corner of junk at the vidwindow just outside.
"Fools they be," he said to himself, more annoyed than anything else.
Looking at the jumble of formats on the screen, broadcasted from the Supercomputer via 5-second delay to present to the denizens of the Net just how they would be rid of the current scourge, he knew his kind were not a trustworthy bunch. Even less than the viruses. "Fools they be, all of them."
And he also knew that he still hadn't found that cup, but he thought he might have seen it last second. So he stared at one pile for a nano, scanning it for hints but not quite finding any, and jumped in.
"I know ye be in here, lassie..."
***
The Prime Guardian checked over the report once more. Something just didn't process right with him, although he might have chalked it up to just being suspicious of the Guild by default. After a...