Студопедия — Mirror Friend, Mirror Foe 2 страница
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Mirror Friend, Mirror Foe 2 страница






“I am Hayama,” Hosato replied.

A vague ripple of relief crossed the man’s face. “Excellent. My name is Reilly. I represent the Raven-steel Corporation, and we are interested in retaining your services.”

Hosato’s eyebrows went up. “Am I to understand it would be the corporation and not yourself individually who would be retaining my skills?”

“That’s right. Why. Is something wrong?”

“No. I just can’t imagine why a corporation would require the services of a duelist.”

“We don’t.” Reilly smiled. “You see, we at Ravensteel are aware that despite your obvious abilities, dueling is not your main livelihood, just as Hayama isn’t your real name. Your name is Hosato, and you are a freelance spy and saboteur, one of the best, according to our sources. Ravensteel needs a saboteur, and we need one badly. The fact you can fence is merely frosting on the cake.”

“Mr. Mathers?”

The bartender turned at the sound of Hosato’s voice. “Hayama!” he exclaimed.

“It is settled,” Hosato said quietly.

“They accepted my apology?”

“No.”

“But you said... Oh.”

“Harry Scale will not trouble you again. Neither will his two brothers.”

Mathers stood regarding Hosato with a new respect.

“I see. Well, I guess you want the rest of your money.”

He went to the cash register, and returned with a handful of bills. Wordlessly he counted them onto the bar counter in front of Hosato.

Hosato picked them up without checking the count and started to stash them in his tunic; then he hesi­tated. “Did you know Moabe?” he asked.

“The Negro. No, I didn’t know him and didn’t want to. The Scales always had a couple darkies hanging around with them. Never could warm up to them, my­self.”

“I see,” said Hosato.

“Hey, nothing personal, you understand. You Ori­entals are all right. You’re quiet and polite. But Ne­groes well.you know how they are.”

Mathers smiled and winked knowingly.

Hosato regarded him for a moment, then put away the money and turned to leave.

“Hey. No need to hurry off, Hayama. Come on, I’ll buy you a drink. I figure I owe you a little bonus.” Hosato left without acknowledging Mathers’ words.

Reilly was waiting in his hotel room as promised, and answered the door promptly when Hosato knocked.

“Come in, come in,” he invited. “I hope you don’t mind meeting in my room, but I thought it would be best if we weren’t seen together in public.” “It’s quite all right,” Hosato assured him.

“Well, make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Not just now, thanks.”

After the abortive duel, Hosato wanted a drink badly, but thought it unwise to drink if business were to be discussed. He seated himself on the plush sofa and waited while Reilly poured himself a healthy glass of Scotch. He wished he could have brought Suzi along, but it would have been too hard to explain her presence and might have aroused suspicions as to her true capacities.

“You sure I can’t get you anything?” Reilly asked, smiling. He was obviously back in his own element again. The stiffness and formality he had displayed at the dueling ground disappeared now that he was in a hotel room with a drink in his hand.

Hosato had encountered his kind before. An aging pretty boy sincere smile and a firm handshake look you right in the eye: the trademark of a cor­porate field man. Hosato never really felt at ease around them. He preferred the company of the rougher set, who would throw back their heads and laugh or glare with suspicion. The unshakable joviality of the corporation types was a mask that successfully screened their true thoughts and reactions.

“Well, I guess you must have a million questions, Mr. Hosato,” Reilly said, pulling up a chair.

“For the moment, just one.” Hosato smiled. “Who gave you my name?”

“Oh, that. A gentleman called the '. Hungarian' re­ferred us to you.”

The Hungarian. That gave a certain air of credibil­ity to the contact. Still...

“Did he send any messages to me?” Hosato asked.

“As a matter of fact, he did. I was going to mention it later, since it didn’t seem particularly important. He said to tell you his dog died.”

That was the fail-safe. The Hungarian never owned a dog in his life; in fact, he hated them. However, it served to confirm that Reilly had indeed been checked and forwarded by the Hungarian.

“Very well, tell me about this job you have for me. You mentioned sabotage?”

“That’s right,” Reilly confirmed. “What do you know about Ravensteel Incand Mc. Crae Enterprises?”

“Not much,” Hosato admitted. “They’re both based on Grunbecker’s Planet and they both make robots.”

Reilly smiled. “Mr. Hosato, you have an unsus­pected talent for understatement. Still, that pretty much sums up the situation. The only major amend­ment I would make would be to point out that between the two of them, they produce eighty-five to ninety percent of the robots in use today.”

Hosato raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. He had no idea those two corporations dominated the in­dustry to that extent.

“Now, then,” Reilly continued, “what do you know about the corporations themselves, particularly their interrelation with each other?”

“Mr. Reilly,” Hosato smiled to hide his annoyance, “you asked once what I knew about the corpora­tions in question, and I told you. Now, why don’t you just tell me whatever you feel is important, instead of playing Twenty Questions?” Reilly took the rebuff smoothly. “Sorry,” he apologized. “My basic background is in marketing and sales—you know, 'get the customer in­volved'. Guess I’ve never really gotten over it.

“Well, to keep a long story short, the two corpora­tions hate each other with a passion. Now, don’t mis­take this for an ordinary business rivalry. That’s there, too, but it’s only part of the story. Originally they were all one company, IR. AM, a partnership. The two part­ners had a falling-out, and they split the company, forming two separate corporations. The main drive of each of the two has been to put the other out of busi­ness. So far, though, they’re about even.”

“What does all this have to do with me?” Hosato asked.

“We at Ravensteel want you to penetrate the Mc­. Crae complex and sabotage their works shut 'em down. We’re ready to pay ten thousand credits for the attempt, and an additional ten thousand for every month Mc. Crae is inoperative, to a maximum total of a hundred thousand credits. Are you interested?”

Hosato stared thoughtfully at the wall for several minutes before answering. There was no denying a hundred thousand credits was tempting. Still.

“What’s the law like?” he asked abruptly.

“The law?”

“The police. What kind of opposition would I be up against?”

“No police,” Reilly assured him. “Grunbecker’s Planet is a corporation world. There are no inhabit­ants other than corporation employees. Each of the two corporations makes and enforces its own laws.”

“All right, then, what is Mc. Crae law like?”

“Tight,” Reilly admitted. “Tight to the point of be­ing paranoid. They live in constant fear of industrial espionage and are determined nothing is going to get away. Half the humans in the complex are security guards, and if any of them are indifferent or careless, we haven’t been able to catch 'em at it.”

Hosato pursed his lips thoughtfully. “What’s the physical layout?” he asked.

“Well, Grunbecker’s Planet itself is pretty desolate mostly sand and rock. If it wasn’t for its mineral deposits, it’s doubtful it would have been settled at ail.”

“Breathable atmosphere?”

Reilly shook his head. “No. The complex is sealed with its own life-support systems. You’d need a sur­face suit to survive outside the complex.”

Hosato nodded absently.

“How about the complex itself?” he asked finally.

“The Mc. Crae complex is a series of surface build­ings interconnected by subterranean tunnels,” Reilly recited. “The spaceport is located on top of the Ad­ministrative Building.”

“All of it’s above the surface?”

“All except one building. The main computer build­ing is subterranean for temperature control and secur­ity. The rest of the complex is aboveground. We can supply you with detailed maps of the layout if you accept the job.”

Hosato considered this for a few more moments.

“Okay, Reilly,” he said at last. “What’s the rest of it?”

“The rest of what?”

Hosato grimaced at him. “The rest of the story. There’s got to be more. You’ve gone to a lot of trou­ble to find me, and you’re offering top dollar for my services. Nothing you’ve said so far indicates a need for a specialist. There are several hundred people who could do the job for you, and do it cheaper than me— you’ve probably got a couple in your own corpora­tion. Now, assuming Ravensteel isn’t in the habit of tossing away money on overqualified personnel, there’s something you haven’t told me—something that will make me effective where your randomly picked demolition man would fail. I want to know what that something is before I decide whether to ac­cept or reject your offer.”

Reilly took a slow sip of his drink before replying.

“All right, Hosato. I’ll put all our cards on the ta­ble. Mc. Crae’s security is tight and I mean really tight. They’re very careful about who they let wander around their complex. Oh, they cater to tour groups, but passing visitors never get near anything vital. We think the only machines they see are do-nothing dum­mies rigged for show only.”

“What makes you think that?” Hosato asked.

Reilly smiled. “Because that’s what we do with tour groups at Ravensteel.”

“I see.” Hosato mentally filed away that piece of information for possible future use.

“Anyway,” Reilly continued, “the only ones who get into the depths of the complex are permanent em­ployees. And most of the designing, manufacturing, and mining are automated, so they don’t hire many humans. Consequently, the ones they do hire are screened very carefully. New employees aren’t simply interviewed when they appear, they’re researched and then approached. Naturally, this makes infiltration a bit difficult.”

“Now, the other shoe,” Hosato prompted. “How am I supposed to break this airtight defense?”

“Like everyone else, they’ll bend the rules for a specialist. We’ve gotten information that one of the Mc. Crae executives is looking for a fencing master for his son. It was a long shot, but we figured if we could find a fencer with other shall we say ’special tal­ents,' he might be willing to listen to a proposal from us. We started searching and found you.”

Hosato thought it through. It made sense. Fencing was an ability that couldn’t be faked or learned over­night. You either could or you couldn’t.

“We’re not really throwing you to the wolves,” Reilly added hastily. Apparently he mistook Hosato’s silence for hesitancy.

“We’re ready to provide you with a cover. We’ve begun creating a character, Samuel Hu. If you accept the assignment, we’ll plant the appropriate documents to support your credentials and bribe the proper per­sonal references so that when you arrive on-planet you’ll have no problem clearing their security check.”

Hosato shook his head. “That won’t do at all,” he said flatly.

“Why not?”

“For one thing, Hu is a Chinese name.”

“So?” Reilly asked blankly.

“I’m Japanese... well, of Japanese descent.”

“That’s no problem.” Reilly shrugged. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know the difference. Nothing personal, but most people don’t know the difference between the various Orientals.”

Hosato decided to abandon that particular point of argument. “It still won’t work,” he insisted. “The kind of personal reference I would need couldn’t be bought. Even if you found a fencing master who would sell an endorsement, all that would mean would be that for the right price he could be convinced to change his story or simply blow the whistle.”

“So you won’t do it,” Reilly said, crestfallen.

Hosato smiled. “I didn’t say that,” he corrected. “What I said was, I wouldn’t use your cover. I’ll use my own. My family spent considerable time building my cover—several generations, in fact.” In actuality, Hosato’s family had been in “the business” nearly seven hundred years now, starting back on Old Earth in the 1500s. He reflexively suppressed this additional bit of data as- he continued. “I think it will stand up to close scrutiny a bit better than anything Ravensteel could toss together on short notice.”

“Fine.” Reilly beamed. “I’m sure that will be agree­able. If it’s all settled, then...”

Hosato held up a restraining band. “Not quite. Your original plan to establish a cover for me would have cost Ravensteel a pretty penny. Since I’m pro­viding my own cover, I think it’s only fair that that cover money should be added to my advance fee shall we say an extra fifteen thousand credits?”

As he spoke, he was thinking about his long-awaited drink. Negotiations were nearly over.

“It’s a deal,” said Reilly. “You drive a hard bar­gain. You better be worth it.”

“I always give my employers satisfaction,” said Hosato thinly. With that pronouncement, he gave Reilly a curt nod and left the hotel room, in search of a more suitable drinking partner.

“Welcome to Mc. Crae Enterprises, the largest manu­facturer of robots in the universe. I will be your guide for the tour, and am programmed to answer any ques­tions you might have...”

Hosato hung back as the crowd jostled forward to snap pictures of the guide robot. It was both an amus­ing and an annoying habit of tourists everywhere. The guide robot was no different from any of the thou­sands of information robots throughout the galaxy, but the tourists would faithfully take pictures of it any­way—just as they took pictures of wastebaskets and lampposts. It seemed the only requirement for an ob­ject to be photographed was that it be located some­where other than the tourists’ home planet.

Suzi’s control box, clipped to his waistband, was vibrating steadily, their prearranged signal that they were being watched. It came as no surprise to Hosato that they were under surveillance; in fact, he ex­pected it. It was only natural that any strangers, such as tourists who had not been checked and cleared by Security, would be watched closely while they were on the premises.

He had spotted the small door off the reception area marked “Employment” as soon as they had departed the ship, but for the time being he ignored it. Instead, he loitered at the rear of the tour group, finding in­terest in the guide robot’s oration.

What he was actually doing was performing a per­sonal test. Covertly studying the reception area, he attempted to identify and count the security devices at work.

The wall immediately behind the guide robot was covered by a huge mirror, doubtless one-way glass. Having the robot give his talk from that location was a clever ploy to draw the crowd into position for ob­servation. The wicker baskets holding potted plants were a common disguise for closed-circuit cameras, giving the watchers clear view of anyone at the rear of the crowd.

He recognized the arch they had entered through as a scanning device and suspected the carpet con­tained sniffer-sensors to detect explosives. Despite the hospitable appearance, Mc. Crae Enterprises was track­ing its visitors very carefully.

Hosato abandoned his inspection abruptly. Suzi’s scanners would provide a more accurate and complete list than he could hope to accumulate on his own. Be­sides, if he stalled too long, it might look suspicious.

Drawing a few curious glances from the tourists, he sauntered over to the Employment door and opened it. Suzi clung to his heels as he entered, and never faltered in her warning signal that they were still be­ing watched.

The room was dark until he stepped onto the car­pet; then the automatic lights came on, revealing a small office with a desk robot centered in the floor and a door in the far wall. Nothing happened until the door closed behind him; then the desk robot came to life.

“This is the Employment Office,” it announced po­litely. “The Employment Office is not part of the planned tour of our facilities. Please rejoin the tour group immediately. If you are unsure as to where the group is currently located, respond accordingly and I will provide directions as to how you may find them.”

“I’m not interested in the tour,” Hosato informed the machine. “I wish to apply for a position.”

There was the whir of a small motor, and a piece of paper slid into view on the desk.

“There are no openings at present in Mc. Crae Enterprises,” the machine informed him. “If you wish, you may fill out this form, and we will contact you if any vacancies arise.”

Hosato was growing annoyed with the robot.

“I would suggest that you check your data files again,” he said. “I was informed by Maestro Bailey that there was an opening here for a fencing instruc­tor. I wish to apply for that position.”

There was a moment’s pause as the machine di­gested this information.

“Please stand by,” it said at last, and lapsed into silence.

Hosato hated to use Maestro Bailey’s name that way, but it was legitimate. Part of his preparations for this mission had been to place a series of calls to the various maestros of his acquaintance. The pattern of the conversation for these calls was an inquiry after their health and well-being as a thin disguise for a chance to gripe about the low pay and status of a professional duelist. The third call, the call to Maestro Bailey, had paid off. Bailey had been approached by Mc. Crae Enterprises to take the teaching position, but had declined. He suggested that Hosato—or as he knew him, Hayama—apply for the opening and of­fered to provide a personal recommendation if one were necessary.'

It provided Hosato with a valid method for having heard about the opening, but it also had its draw­backs. He disliked using one of his cover-identity friends in his espionage-sabotage missions. If he were discovered, Maestro Bailey could be indirectly impli­cated as an accomplice.

The far door opened and a pert young redhead stood silhouetted there. Hosato made a mental note: If she was a robot, he’d buy one-

“If you could step this way, Mr...?”

“Hayama,” Hosato provided politely.

“Yes. Sorry for the delay, but we don’t get many off-the-ship applicants.”

“Off-the-ship applicants?” he queried.

“Applicants who pop up on our doorstep in person,” she explained. “Usually they send resume’s ahead or call for an appointment. It’s rude to keep you waiting like that, but it is an unusual situation for us.”

“That’s quite all right,” he assured her, starting for­ward, with Suzi following closely.

“Oh. I’m sorry. Your robot will have to wait here until it’s cleared by Security.”

Hosato removed the control box from his waistband and fiddled with the dials for a moment. Suzi sarcasti­cally took up a position in a corner of the room.

“What make robot is that?” the girl inquired as she led him down a narrow corridor.

“It’s a custom job,” Hosato informed her. “Nobody produces a stock fencing robot. Not enough demand, I guess.”

“It’s not one of ours, is it?”

“No,” Hosato admitted. “But it’s not one of Raven-steers, either.”

“That’s good.” She laughed. “If it was, Security would dismantle it before they let it in, if they let it in at all.”

The girl opened a door off the corridor and led Hosato into a small office. It was obviously intended for interviewing rather than permanent occupation, since it was tiny to the point of being claustrophobic.

“Have a seat,” she said casually, plopping down at the desk-robot that dominated the room.

Hosato glanced at the chair as he sat down. It was a disguised polygraph—a lie detector. Mc. Crae Enter­prises didn’t miss a trick.

“Your name again was...?”

“Hayama,” Hosato said easily.

“And your purpose here is...?”

“To apply for the fencing instructor position.”

Hosato wasn’t worried about the chair. Lie detec­tors scanned for changes in respiration or pulse rate when a subject was surprised by a question or nervous about an answer. His Hayama cover was so natural to him he could rattle it off without batting an eye.

The girl keyed some information into the robot, and in a few moments it responded by producing a sheet of paper half-filled with notations. She scanned it briefly before turning to Hosato again.

“What do you feel your qualifications are for this position, Mr. Hayama?”

“I’ve fenced for more than fifteen years now, and studied under eight maestros.”

“Would you say you are an expert fencer?” she prompted.

“Good enough to survive eight years as a profes­sional duelist.” He smiled.

“Do you have your maestro’s certification?”

“No, I don’t,” he admitted.

The girl frowned. “The job requirements state mae­stro’s certification is preferred,” she commented.

“Of course,” Hosato replied lightly. “But I doubt if you’ll get one.”

“Mc. Crae Enterprises pays very well for expertise.” She smiled confidently.

“That may be so,” he said. “But there are fewer than a dozen maestros today, and all of them are very devoted to promoting fencing. It’s doubtful they would abandon their current students to devote their time to one boy.”

The girl stared thoughtfully at the sheet of paper. Hosato decided to play his trump card.

“I suppose it depends on what you’re looking for. Do you want someone to teach the boy to fence in tournaments, or do you want him to learn how to han­dle a sword in a fight?”

“I don’t know,” the girl admitted. “This position is a bit out of the ordinary. If you wait here, I’ll try to contact Mr. Turner. He’s the one requesting the posi­tion. If he approves it, you’ve got the job.”

 

 

* * *

 

It was two hours before Turner appeared, but when he did, he swept into the room like a small tornado. Turner was in his late forties, with a noticeable paunch that showed despite the careful tailoring of his suit. Still, there was an aura of energy that surrounded him like a cloud and shone brightly in his eyes. A slender dark girl slid into the room in his wake and leaned lazily against the wall.

“Harry Turner, Mr. Hayama,” the man announced, seizing Hosato’s hand and pumping it once. “Sorry to keep you waiting, but I was tied up.”

Hosato smiled vaguely, content to watch Turner’s show. He wondered who the girl was.

“Right off the bat, we’ve got a problem. I hate to say it after you’ve come all this way, but the position’s fallen through. It seems my kid, James, doesn’t like this idea of mine any more than he’s liked any of the other suggestions I’ve made. In fact, all of a sudden he’s dead set against learning to fence. You know how it is with kids these days, you try to give 'em things and they throw it back in your face.”

Hosato held up a restraining hand. “I may have a solution to both our problems, Mr. Turner. It could solve the question of whether or not your son will ac­cept lessons as well as if I am qualified to teach him.”

“What’s that?” Turner asked.

“Let me give the boy one lesson free of charge. If I can rouse his interest, then we can discuss a per­manent arrangement.”

“A trial period. That’s a possibility.”

“It sounds good to me, Harry,” the dark girl said, breaking her silence. “It’d give us a chance to run a check on Mr. Hayama, here.”

“Okay, Sasha. Oh. I’m sorry. Mr. Hayama, this is Sasha. She’s head of our Security section.”

Hosato swiveled around and smiled politely at the girl. Actually, it wasn’t that hard to smile at her. She was attractive, in her mid- to late twenties. Her dark hair was drawn up into a severe bun, but her jumpsuit hugged her curves, accenting her slender figure. It would have been pleasant meeting her, if it wasn’t for her eyes. Her eyes were dark and suspicious as they met Hosato’s. She didn’t return-his smile.

“Well, that about wraps it up. Glad to have you aboard, Hayama,” Harry Turner concluded. “Even though I don’t know how you got through to that pig­headed son of mine.”

Hosato smiled. “It’s like the joke about the man training the mule,” he confided. “First I had to get his attention.”

Turner laughed appreciatively. “Is that the secret. You know, you might teach me a thing or two in the process.”

“I doubt it,” said Hosato, looking pointedly around the plush office. “You seem to be doing pretty well on what you know already.” The office was big enough to house three handball courts. Thick shag carpet cov­ered the floor, and real paintings hung on the walls, each one spotlit by its own small lamp. Even the couch and easy chairs were of real wood and leather.

“It’s a living,” Turner admitted modestly.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what exactly do you do here, anyway?”

“Mostly I don’t,” Harry boasted. “I let Sam here do all the real work.” He gestured to the huge mass of dials and screens that took up one whole wall of the office. “Sam coordinates and controls the design and production of one-fifth of the robots Mc. Crae markets.”

Hosato raised his eyebrows appreciatively. “From what I hear, that’s a lot.”

“You bet your broadsword it is.” Turner smiled. “We aren’t a nickel-and-dime outfit like Ravensteel.”

“Speaking of Ravensteel, do you have much trouble with them?”

“Not really. It’s more of a Mexican standoff. Why?”

“Well, ever since I arrived here, I’ve been noticing the extensive security precautions. Heck, you can’t turn around without tripping over a guard. I notice Sam there has a voice lock on him.”

Turner shrugged. “It’s something you learn to live with,” he said. “The reason we don’t have any trouble with Ravensteel is that we have security tight enough to strangle an inchworm. Otherwise the Ravensteel spies would be all over us. They haven’t had an orig­inal idea since the IR. AM split.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Hosato conceded.

“As to Sam’s voice lock, that’s my own precaution. It’s more of a safeguard against office politics than against Ravensteel.”

“Office politics?”

“Be thankful you’re out of it, Hayama.” Turner grimaced. “Sometimes I think we spend more time spying on each other than on the opposition. The more the machines take over, the more time we have to bootlick and backstab over promotions. There’s noth­ing some of my fellow vice-presidents would like better than to steal my ideas or have advance information so they could do a little shotgunning at the planning ses­sions. I didn’t get where I am today by trusting peo­ple.”

“That bad, huh?” Hosato commented sympatheti­cally.

There was no reply. He glanced at Turner, to find the vice-president studying him with a new suspicion.

“Just to show you how paranoid someone in my position can get, Hayama,” he said. “It occurs to me you’ve got an awful lot of questions about security.”

“Relax, Harry.” Hosato smiled. “The last thing I want to do is get people suspicious. That’s why I’m asking. I have a hunch ignorance would not be ac­cepted as a valid excuse if I accidentally blundered into the wrong room or area.”

“You’re right there,” Turner admitted. “As a mem-

ber of my personal staff, you’ve pretty much got free run of the complex. Just stay out of the restricted areas.”

“Where are they?”

“You can’t miss 'em. There are warning signs and locks all over, not to mention the robots will automati­cally warn you off.”

“Can you give me some specifics?”

“Mostly the offices and the manufacturing areas. Sasha can give you a map if you ask her.”

Hosato made a face. “I’d rather not,” he said. “I don’t think she likes me.”

“Don’t take it personally, Hayama. The bitch doesn’t like anybody.”

Hosato almost smiled at the similarity between Turner’s opinion of Sasha and Suzi’s.

“How much authority does she have, anyway?” he asked.

“Too much,” Turner said grimly. “She reports di­rectly to the president. Between you and me, she could shoot anyone in this complex down in their tracks and not have to justify it to anybody but the board. Sweet, huh?”

“Terrific,” Hosato responded with heartfelt sincer­ity.

“Don’t let it scare you off.” Turner was suddenly conspiratorial. “We won’t have to put up with it much longer. She and her pack of goons will be out on their ears when... if my latest project idea works out.”

Turner was suddenly guarded again. Hosato took the cue and didn’t push for details.

“Well,” he said, heaving to his feet, “you’re busy, so I won’t take up any more of your time.”

“Drop in anytime, Hayama.” Turner smiled.

The smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Hosato sneaked a second glance as he reached the door. Turner was still sitting at his desk-robot but was staring thoughtfully at the wall. Hosato guessed he was reviewing what he had said and wondering if he had said too much. Turner hadn’t said much, but he had said enough to set Hosato thinking.







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