"That is a *fine* idea," he said. "We'll
invite Lyman."
#
Lyman had taken to showing up on Alan's stoop in the morning sometimes,
on his way to work, for a cup of coffee. He'd taken to showing up at
Kurt's shop in the afternoon, sometimes, on his way home from work, to
marvel at the kids' industry. His graybeard had written some code that
analyzed packet loss and tried to make guesses about the crowd density
in different parts of the Market, and Lyman took a proprietary interest
in it, standing out by Bikes on Wheels or the Portuguese furniture store
and watching the data on his PDA, comparing it with the actual crowds on
the street.
He'd only hesitated for a second when Andrew asked him to be the
inaugural advisor on ParasiteNet's board, and once he'd said yes, it
became clear to everyone that he was endlessly fascinated by their
little adhocracy and its experimental telco potential.
"This party sounds like a great idea," he said. He was buying the
drinks, because he was the one with five-hundred-dollar glasses and a
full-suspension racing bike. "Lookit that," he said.
From the Greek's front window, they could see Oxford Street and a little
of Augusta, and Lyman loved using his PDA and his density analysis
software while he sat, looking from his colored map to the crowd
scene. "Lookit the truck as it goes down Oxford and turns up
Augusta.
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