"Are you sure he's not just yanking our chain?" Byers asked as they looked around the restaurant.

"I'm not," Langly replied. "No one's seen this guy face to face. This must be pretty important." He craned his neck.

"He said he'd be in a Feynman t-shirt, right?" Jimmy asked.

"Yeah," Byers said. "Why?"

"Because that kid in the back has one on."

They looked and started walking to the surprisingly large table.

"Are you sure this guy's not just pulling your leg, Mikey?" Sam asked as they looked over the restaurant's clientèle.

"No. He works anonymously over the Internet. There's something different about this one for him." Michael replied. "But there's someone wearing a Feynman t-shirt."

They got up from their table and walked over to where a teen sat typing on a laptop. They reached the table at the same time as four men. Michael looked at them: a hippy, a bureaucrat, a ditz, and an old guy.

The Gunmen looked at the other two coming up: a drunk and Michael Westin.

"Excuse me," Sam told the others. "But we have business with this... kid."

"So do we," Byers replied. "So might I ask you to leave?"

"Actually," the kid, a tall, dark, and serious seventeen-year-old, cut in. "I want all of you here. Please sit down." He gestured to the six other chairs across the table from him. As they sat, he closed his laptop and clasped his hands. "In case you haven't figure it out yet, I'm Qwerty."

"You!" Sam snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Fine, I'll prove it. To be honest, I expected that," the kid sighed. He opened his computer again and beckoned the others to come stand around him as he put on a headset. He pulled up music first, Survivor's "Can't Hold Back," and as the downbeat hit, he started typing, his fingers blurring over the keys.

"Open System," he commanded. "Recognize Keystone. Acknowledge."

"Acknowledged," the computer said.

A new dark blue window opened, and commands poured out onto it. Three web windows opened side by side, the DoD, FBI, and US Air Force Academy.

"Start System Play," Qwerty said. "Acknowledge."

"Acknowledged," the computer said. "Rules for play?"

The Gunmen looked at each other.

"Selected User," Qwerty replied. "Acknowledge."

"Acknowledged," the computer replied. The blue window went dark, and the web windows suddenly snapped to the front.

"Play concluded," the computer informed its listener. "Acknowledge."

"Acknowledged. Keystone full command. Acknowledge."

"Acknowledged."

Qwerty sat back and dipped the mic down below his chin. "Would you like to wipe your FBI records, gentlemen? Or fly the AFA's satellite? Or learn everything about what the DoD's got cooking?" He flipped through the windows one by one as Survivor's song came to a close.

"How did you do that?" Langly asked. It was beautiful. So fast! And so incredible! He had never heard of verbal commands being used, ever. It must have been cued to his voice and key commands.

"It's a little tactic I whipped up for a multi-pronged simultaneous attack."

"The System?" Byers asked.

"Yep. Don't even ask. I'm not selling the farm."

Sam shook his head. "That's incredible."

Qwerty smiled and raised the mic back up. "Back out. Close System. Acknowledge."

"Acknowledged," the computer said. The multiple windows closed, and the kid pulled off the headset.

"So. I asked you six here to discuss the job."

The others returned to their chairs.

"Now, Mr. Westen here," Qwerty said gesturing, "asked me to crack this system." He turned the laptop around to show the spec sheet. "Now, for two you," he looked at Sam and Michael, "because I assume you know what this is," he looked over at the Gunmen, "if this isn't any kind of trick, you have managed to find a computer that currently is only supposed to exist in theory. The quantum computer as Richard Feynman suggested."

"This is way over my head, kid," Sam said. "I don't know why that's so impressive."

"Well, it's a computer so powerful and unorthodox that it can solve problems that a traditional computer could take hours to solve, or not all, like predicting the weather, in essentially zero seconds."

"You can't predict the weather," Jimmy snorted.

"No, not now anyway," Qwerty replied. "The problem is there are too many variables that you have to keep track of. Modern computers can't juggle all of that, so enough are held constant to approximate it. A quantum computer can handle all that, theoretically at least. Of course, they're getting closer. These days a punny little quantum processor not even close to Feynman's idealization rivals some of the top supercomputers on the planet. But this," he tapped the screen of his computer. "This is the true Feynman processor. Which brings me to my next question. Where did you find this? And why do you need this hacked?"

Michael replied, "I came across this in one of my investigations, and I know it has some information I need."

"That's vague," Qwerty sighed. "The problem is that this system is so big that I'd be digging through it for five years even with my System without knowing what I'm looking for."

"Can we cross that bridge when we come to it?" Michael asked.

"I suppose. I'm not in any place to make demands, I suppose. I really want to crack this thing. Which brings me to you four," he looked at the Gunmen. "The Lone Gunmen. Two of you are accomplished and capable hackers. You're self-published reporters with an eye and ear for conspiracy. That's why I asked you here. Call me crazy, but an ex-government spook comes across a quantum computer and wants it hacked. What does that sound like to you? A story for you, no?"

Byers nodded. "When you put it that way..."

"Wait a minute," Sam cut in. "You think this is some kind of conspiracy?"

Qwerty looked at him. "Not as such. I think there's more to this story than even you know. Something doesn't add up. I can feel it. The Gunmen here have experience with learning the whole story, no matter where it takes them or what they do to find it."

"I think I read The Lone Gunmen once," Sam said. "Something about bar codes I think. Totally and completely-"

Michael looked at him.

"Sane," Sam finished lamely.

"Tell us how you really feel!" Langly challenged.

"Langly," Byers sighed.

"Alright. All four of you are nuts!"

"Yeah? Well, at least-"

Before things could heat up further, Qwerty said quietly, "Shut up. Both of you. That's not what you're here for, and that is not what this is about. This is about the Feynman processor. I will walk out of here right now if you don't swallow your pride and try to at least fake get along. Understand?"

They nodded and took a deep breath.

"Good. Now, about the hack itself. When do you need it?"

Michael replied, "As soon as possible."

"Fair enough. Should have expected that. Two days from now?"

"I could make that work."

"Very well. You'll probably want to see it. Any place you'd prefer for it? Anywhere's good, but I'll need high-speed Internet access. And you'll have to let the Gunmen in."

Michael scribbled an address down. "Here. My mom's house. Sound good?"

"I can make that work." He looked at the Gunmen. "Can you come?"

"Absolutely," Langly said. "I want to see this."

"Will you keep me informed of your investigation?"

"Absolutely," Byers said.

"Good! I can compensate you some. Not much, unfortunately, but I can pay for the next issue of your paper."

"That's not necessary," Byers replied.

"Yes, it is. I know how much you make. You just barely scrap by. I can at least help out a little."

"Alright," Byers finally said.

Qwerty smiled. "Well, thank you. Here's a starting point." He handed them a sheet of paper.

Byers looked at it. It said something about continuing research into quantum computing for something called quantum cryptography.

"Not much, I know, but it's something," the kid said. He looked at his watch. "Now if you will excuse me, I need to get back to school. Lunch is just about over."

He closed his laptop and walked out.

"What do you think?" Frohike asked, his hatred of Miami temporarily forgotten.

Byers shrugged. "Hard to say. He's right, though. There is something more to this."

"What do you think?" Sam asked.

"He could have a point. But I want to know more about what he thinks is happening, and more about him," Michael replied. "What is it about this one that evoked face-to-face contact? And how did he get involved with this line of work, anyway?"

"We certainly have a lot more to learn," Byers said simply. "Let's get started."