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m of a Houston office they'd rented under a false
name, three sixteen-year-old boys sat huddled around a computer terminal,
busy stealing ten thousand dollars a day, the full limit of what Mentat
Security had authorized. Their plan, also approved and certified by the
Foundation as a potentially dangerous extracurricular activity, involved
shuffling borrowed money from one account to another in large amounts and in
a way that took advantage of the timing of electronic bank transfers. The
actual mechanics of the operation were terrifyingly complex; Tran navigated
the stealer with his left hand on the mouse and his right over the numeric
keypad, the data on the screen flowing directly into his consciousness, his
face sharply wrenched with the pain of a mental trance.
Ruben ate from a bag of Doritos and shook his head in time to
Metallica's _Ride the Lightning_, while Josh occasionally glanced up from his
Terrible Ted's laptop interface to rub his eyes and yawn. It had cost a
pretty penny to rent a Ted from the Foundation, but as long as Josh watched
it, he knew there were no police around and no one in the outside world knew
or cared who the three thieves were.
Looking up again, Josh said, "Wash your hands, man. You're next."
"Patience, neat freak," Ruben said
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