Matt Hitchens

Idiot from: Fall 1998 to Spring 2002

15 genes to go.

At this rate, he would never finish. The Syndicate requested the sequence more than 30 days ago. Naturally this was plenty of time to get the job done, had Matthew actually started on time. Instead he silently caressed his fabrege egg with one hand and his tongue, while entering the correct sequence modifier into the kleptocomputer with his other hand.

14 genes to go.

Perhaps his involvment with the time travel program was starting to take his toll. Perhaps the constant shifts in the fabric of his existence were beginning to alter and, dare he admit, damage his work performance.

12 genes to go.

Or maybe it was that experiment that multiplied all numbers by 2...

24 genes to go.

At whatever the rate, he had to plug on. If he failed to finish, his feet would be sent back to the supplier. And he so loved his feet. One should not make the general assumption that feet should be taken for granted; they shouldnt. Joey Faust knew the importance of feet. He knew all too well just before he died. The life of a soldier is long and confusing. If he had known it was Joey, he would never have fired.

21 genes to go.

"Well, I'm finished."