Booker inspected the last mouthful of martini sadly. "Here's lookin' at you, kid." he said and gulped it down.

"He's done that the last four times." Rosalind complained.

"If you ignore him, he'll go away." Robert advised.

"Hasn't worked so far..."

Silence reigned in the bar then, with only the occasional muffled protest from the bartender, who'd awoken some minutes prior. "Give it a rest already," Booker advised him, setting the glass down on the counter (at Elizabeth's insistence, he'd restricted himself to just the one). "You're gettin' your tip." He pulled a coin from his own ear and held it up. "See? Nice silver eagle, just waitin' for ya." He flipped it, caught it and took a peek. "Heads again. If I wasn't the one doin' it, I'd say it was rigged."

He turned his head at a slight gasp from his daughter. "Elizabeth? What's wrong?" He vaulted over the counter again and was by her side in an instant. "It's nothing. She...she has my voice." she mumbled.

"Who does? What are you talkin' about?" She pushed a button and the woman on the screen, an attractive blonde, continued speaking. It was Elizabeth's voice all right; it gave Booker chills to hear it coming from the machine and ostensibly from the woman on it who most certainly was not his daughter. "Okay. Think we're done here. How do you shut this thing off?" Elizabeth pushed a button for him and the screen changed, then went black. "This place may be nice enough, but that game rubs me the wrong way. How the hell did the guy who made it know so much about us?"

"Maybe he heard it first-hand." she suggested. "Another Booker DeWitt and Elizabeth could have come through and told him everything he needed to know..."

"Hm. Could always go ask him and find out."

"We don't even know his name!"

"We'll think of somethin'." He turned around to find the Luteces waiting for him, holding out a business card. "Now what?"

"His name and address."

"We thought you would find it useful."

Booker took the card reluctantly. "'Ken Levine. Irrational Games. 125 B Street Second Floor Boston, MA 02127' What do you say, should we go meet the man himself?" Elizabeth grinned at him. "That's my girl. One last thing..." He walked back to the bartender who watched him warily. "Those are U.S. Army knots, kid. They're tight, but not tight enough. Shouldn't take more 'n' a couple hours..." The boy yelled at him through the gag in his mouth, but even if he could make himself understood, Booker wouldn't have listened. He returned to his daughter and put a hand on her shoulder. "How'd that song go again? All I remember's the old guy saying, 'It's just a jump to the left.'"

"And then a jump to the riiiiight!" she cheered as she whisked them all away...