Ptoumsetchine

Winston Q is alone in the Nostradamus Room, waiting for you. He is sitting at the long meeting table that occupies much of the room, his swivel chair turned away from you so that he faces the plate-glass windows that run the length of one wall, offering a view out across the city of Seattle. A curious habit, given that Winston Q was born completely blind.

"Come in," he says, as you stand in the doorway. "Take a seat."

You do so. "I confess I feel quite underprepared for this meeting," you say, as he turns to face you. "But then, nobody seems to know what it might be about." Winston Q is chief financial officer of MetaHuman Incorporated, a position of considerable importance. You can't imagine what you might have done to attract his interest. Or, for that matter, his wrath.

"To all external intents and purposes, MetaHuman Incorporated is a biotechnology firm," Winston continues. "We use cutting-edge science to improve the human condition. And, of course, we attach a substantial price tag for our services. But you've been with us a while now. You know what really goes on in this building. We play with dark sorceries and extraterrestrial technologies. We gleefully cross lines that humanity was never meant to."

"Yes," you answer. "Our company is rather unusual. I still don't see why you wanted to speak to me."

"I want to talk to you about the theft of two million dollars," he says. "The theft that you committed."