Alright, we are officially up to 20 chapters. I know it's the day before Thanksgiving (don't let this chapter keep you from your relatives; it can wait), but since apart from one short piece it was already proofread and I picked up a very interested new reader, I saw no reason to delay. Proofreading, again, is by JrRangerScout and Hawktooth.

Enjoy!

Superman: "Sorry. (Batman) doesn't trust anyone."

Martian Manhunter: "A wise policy."

Justice League

The following morning, the ZPD was a bustle of activity. Because of the serious nature of things, there was a greater crowd than usual. Extra officers had been borrowed from other precincts to step up patrols, civilians were coming in or phoning in with concern that bordered on paranoia, and a few journalists sniffed about – so to speak – for any leads they could get on the developing trouble. Bogo had only been there a short while, and he had already had to evict three mice, a couple of rabbits, and who knew who or what else from his office, where they had slipped in trying to get a scoop.

At his front desk, Ben ducked as the chief, clearly in an ill temper even by his standards, walked past with two possums at arm's length, swinging by their tails.

"Ow, ow!" one cried. "Dude, that's not how you carry a possum! The super-tail thing is a myth!"

"Shut up, Eddy!" exclaimed the other. "This is totally your fault! If you hadn't given us away, we could have listened in!"

"Hey, you were the one who wanted to go to Bug-rito Barn last night, bro," complained the first.

Under other circumstances, the contrast of their impertinence and the chief's grim demeanor – the latter being augmented by enough stitches and bandages to make Frankenstripe look handsome and healthy – would have been funny. Ben strained to hear their bickering through the background noise, and was about to get back up when his nose caught a tantalizing aroma.

Could it be?

He looked around and suddenly blinked. There, under his desk, was a box of donuts! For a long moment, he could only stare in confusion. How had they gotten there? Had someone left them for him as an act of mercy? Had he put them there before the bet and then forgotten?

More importantly, was anyone looking? He hung suspended over them for a long moment, his mouth watering to the point of drippage in a matter of seconds. Then he pulled back as his conscience warred against his stomach.

'No! You made a deal with Bogo!'

'Donuts.'

'Come on, cat, you've only got one day left to go.'

'Donuts.'

'Ben, Ben! Show some willpower.'

'Donuts.'

'Or, hey! Look at the snack Judy brought you. Nice snack. Good snack. Yummy, greasy, cheesy snack.'

'Doooonnnuuuuuttsssss...'

In the bullpen, the usual demeanor was nowhere in sight. Despite a few awkward attempts to start arm wrestling matches or banter, nobody had the heart to do much of anything except talk in very subdued tones. Naturally the conversation was all about the new menace hanging over their city. Officers who had been on duty the previous day shared what they knew to circles of those who hadn't, all the while casting furtive glances around as if they expected another darting attack in that very room at any moment. Cops borrowed from other precincts hovered at the edges of the room like teenage wallflowers. Judy, despite her usual eagerness to be in the thick of things, was glad enough that few saw her and fewer knew she had been on the scene. She was in no frame of mind for storytelling. Heck, she didn't even have the heart to fist-bump any of her fellow officers.

What little spirit there was in the room died in an instant when Bogo came in. Every exposed part of him boasted bruises or stitches of some kind. A collection of long sewn-up lines on one arm, trailing up into his sleeve, showed where the lion had clawed him the day before. A few sharp eyes in the room spotted odd bulges in his uniform betraying bandages underneath, and one or two could have sworn they saw a line on one of his horns where a piece had broken and been repaired with medical superglue.

With his somber appearance amplified by the silence, Bogo stepped to the lectern. Despite the sorry shape his body was in, his eyes held their grim resolve as firmly as ever.

"I see you already know about the recent attack," he noted firmly, as if daring someone to ask a question. "I'm going to keep this brief, everyone. The city is in an uproar, and it's up to us to settle it. Now, we already have one clue as to the culprits. Someone going by the name 'Obearon' has already claimed responsibility and made it clear that for every hit we score on him and his operation, whatever it is, he will launch other similar attacks. By the looks of it, he's using the leftovers of Bellwether's recent operation, including the Night Howler darts."

Uneasy glances passed around the room at this news. The one hopeful thought in anyone's mind – predators in particular – was that now everyone knew it was a chemical agent and not some buried instinct or gene, and at least turning society against a certain demographic was no longer a prospect. It was a hope soon to be overshadowed by the true enormity of the crisis at hand.

"I have only two things to say about this," Bogo went on. "One is that we will not let this rogue intimidate us. I want everyone tracking every lead they can to find out who he is, who his contacts are, and what he's doing. But! … do not strike without authorization.

"The other is that there's a new development in our investigation of the Night Howler attacks. The dart used yesterday was a different formula from those used in the past incidents. The forensics lab hasn't finished analyzing the residue, but it looks as though whoever is behind this has added something that blunts the effects of our knockout darts, as well as a painkiller strong enough to counteract a stun gun. In yesterday's attack, fifteen officers were badly injured taking down one darted lion, and they all exhausted their supplies before engaging him by paw."

Judy felt not only her own unease at this statement, but the full wave of it spreading over her fellow officers as well. Stun guns, as it was generally well-known, worked by using an electric charge to short out or 'jam' motor muscles and thus paralyze their targets. The charge, however, only ran for a limited time so as to prevent side effects like heart failure. The real value of the weapon was that it hurt so much, few suspects were inclined to resist after a single jolt. Even if they did, further discouragement was just a trigger pull away as long as the prongs – which were barbed like fish hooks – stayed embedded. It was fairly effective even on savage animals, as were knockout darts, but if a mammal could just bounce right back up from a jolt like nothing had happened once the juice was off...

"So what are we going to do about that?" asked Francine. "Those were our two best ways of responding before."

"That's right," added Delgato, "and net guns take too long to reload after a miss."

Bogo frowned. "I hesitate to go this route, but in light of the crisis, I am issuing orders for use of regular firearms until we find the ones behind this and bring them down."

That froze the blood in Judy's veins. "R-regular firearms, chief?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yes, Hopps. Yours hasn't come in yet, but I have some other matters to discuss with you. In the meantime, the rest of you all have your assignments. Dismissed."

The room rapidly cleared out, leaving Judy alone with the chief... or so she thought.

"Hopps, I'm sure you already know the state of the case as fully as I do."

She nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm sure once we get Nick – I mean Wilde – in on the information, we'll be able to close this case up in no time."

Bogo rumbled deep in his chest. "I still have doubts about your methods, Hopps."

Judy, not at all surprised by his bluntness, answered in an equally blunt manner. "With all due respect, sir, I think you forget that it was with his help that I cracked the case and captured Bellwether."

He gazed at her through sunken eyes from under dark, forbidding brows which called up images of storm clouds looming steadily nearer. "Didn't forget, but making him an officer is your project, not mine. I don't have time to deal with species advancement or endless judgment calls about a non-officer's clearance levels." Without pausing his words, he put out one arm and jabbed a hard fingertip down at the desk. "I'm concerned with finding whoever you talked to on the phone and shutting him down before there are any more attacks. Nothing more, and nothing less. Do you understand?"

Even Judy could, on occasion, be badgered into silence, however briefly. Bogo seemed to interpret this to mean that she did understand, for after a brief pause he went on.

"I've done some re-arranging with the schedules, and as of now I am assigning you a partner on the force until this case is closed."

"What?" protested Judy. "Sir, Nick and I have this."

Bogo gave her a 'let's-not-forget-who's-boss-here' look. "That fox isn't an officer yet. So far I'll admit I've gotten good reports about him from the officers he was with the other night, but! ...until he has a badge that didn't come off a sticker sheet, I'm assigning an officer to work with you for everyone's sake. Just work together, keep doing your job, and I'll keep considering him for recommendation." Letting the implied 'and if not' speak for itself, and ignoring the irked look on Judy's face, he then looked over her head completely, towards the back of the room. "You're up, Officer Catano."

Judy sat up straighter at that, her ears preceding the rest of her as she turned to see the cheetah sitting in the back. She was utterly silent, and her expression was as neutral as a pond on a still day. Without the slightest show of emotion, Catano rose.

"Let's go, Hopps. We've got work to do."

Judy followed with her ears lowered, her brow knitted, and her mouth in a firm line.

"I suppose Mr. Wilde is out in the lobby," remarked Officer Catano.

"He is," Judy affirmed, "and by the way, leaving him out of the loop on this is not okay by me, got it?"

Catano raised her paws. "I understand, and for what it's worth I have dispensation from the chief to tell him as much as necessary."

The effort to placate Judy was, unsurprisingly, less than effective. "Oh, so as long as the whole city knows something it's okay for Nick to know it too?" She was going overboard and she knew it. However, after the last couple of days and the suspicion that Nick's input might have allowed them to prevent what had happened, she'd had about as much as one doe could take. She was going to...

She trailed off, realizing that cutting loose now was about the worst call she could make. With Nick's future at stake, she had to do her job no matter how much it reeked – which, had she cared to consider it then, actually described a lot of a police officer's life. She lowered her ears, took a deep breath to steady herself, and then spoke in a much more measured tone. "No offense, but this is my case and his. You may have more experience, but we were well underway on this before you ever got involved. I am not demoting him to sidekick on this, alright?"

Catano took this in calmly, weighing it for a moment. "Actually, since I've got seniority, I can demote him to sidekick," she pointed out. Raising a paw to forestall an outburst, she added, "Just pointing it out. Now listen; I was going to tell you something so we wouldn't get this off on the wrong note..." a smile crept onto her face. "... but since you make such a point of it, I'll wait until Junior Detective's in on it too."

"What?!" yelped Judy impatiently. She wasn't sure what bugged her more: having things turned around like that, or hearing her nickname for Nick come out of Catano's mouth.

"You insisted," the cheetah pointed out, "or you might as well have. But before we take him into our confidence, I have one question for your ears only." She motioned Judy off to the side where they would be out of the way, then dropped to one knee to get as close to eye level as she could with the bunny.

"Do you trust him?"

The answer was so obvious that Judy thought she must have heard wrongly. "What?"

"Do you trust him? He saved your life, but are you positive that he won't repeat anything confidential, or get careless over a few drinks, or that if he's caught he won't crack if he's tortured? This isn't about him being a fox, Hopps. This is about mistakes. We can't afford any, and there's not a mammal alive who doesn't have some Yachilles' heel. I've even known officers to get careless in the wrong setting." Then she looked at her watch. "Give it a minute before you answer, Hopps – for his sake as well as ours."

Judy stuck out her jaw and spurned the minute. "I trust him," she answered categorically. "He's smart enough to keep quiet, and I'm sure he can stay away from bars." She then checked herself mentally. Pretty sure, anyway, she thought. The truth was, her only real evidence of that last part was that she'd never seen him drink or smelled booze on his breath – and there was that story about the Wheatgrass Whiskey.

The look on Catano's face betrayed a hint of worry – sorrow, even – beneath her severity. "I hope you're right," she said solemnly. "Quite honestly, I make it a rule not to trust anyone too much; not even Chef Bogo."

Judy didn't know what to make of that remark, but it gave her plenty to think about as they went for her friend.

True to her word, Catano said nothing more until they had found Nick and all three of them had retreated to a private meeting room. Once seated there, the cheetah folded her paws and regarded them both seriously. She spoke to Judy first.

"Hopps, I know you think this arrangement is a punishment, but personally I respect you." At this last she put a paw on her chest as though to emphasize the singularity of the statement. "You've already proven yourself way beyond the length of time you've been on the force. As for you, Wilde, McHowlister had nothing but good things to say about your part in the sting, and even Clawson could only say that you needed to learn some manners." She gave him a significant look as she said this, managing to say without any words at all, 'And as a reminder, my name is not Spots.' "I'll admit I was skeptical about you, but I'll give you a chance. I'm expecting nothing but the best from both of you."

Judy blinked. "Well, thanks," she said, taken slightly aback.

"And because I respect you," the cheetah went on, "I'm going to be up front with you. Chief Bogo may have said I'd be your partner, but in practice I'm going to be more like your bodyguard."

"Bodyguard?" echoed Nick. "I thought those were for VIMs. No offense, Carrots."

Officer Catano regarded him through half-lowered lids. "You're the one with the most experience around criminals, Wilde. Your odd flinches around a police station might as well be a sign on your back, and I remember our last run-in well enough."

"Last run-in?" asked Judy. She remembered Catano mentioning that she and Nick had met before, but somehow the questions of how, where, and when had slipped her mind until that moment. "When was that?"

"A petty crime," Catano answered cooly, "and I didn't have enough on him to make a case of it, or to bother thinking of checking his tax records." Pausing as if she wasn't sure she had meant to admit that Judy had outdone her there, she went on, "Right now that's got nothing to do with this case, though. The point is, you both have experience. So tell me, why would you two need a bodyguard?"

Nick and Judy exchanged the kind of glances they might if they found themselves on a balance beam over a spike pit. "You mean," Nick concluded, looking back at Catano, "because she's the most famous cop in the city..."

"... and anyone linked to the criminal element might spot himworking with me..." added Judy.

Offier Catano could see they got the picture. "Congratulations," she told them in a tone which suggested little celebration. "You're VIMs. You especially, Wilde. We know Obearon was connected to Jesse, who saw you working with Hopps. We have to assume Jesse gave him that information, and if Obearon knows or finds out which fox you are, he might try darting you to take her out."

Both of them dropped their ears at this and turned pale under their fur.

"That's why Bogo assigned me, by the way," added Catano without any hint of bragging. "I haven't lost a partner yet, and I don't plan to do it anytime soon. He asked me Saturday just after the bomb scare, but since you were off work, things happened before you knew you had me as backup."

"So, just so we're clear," Nick put in, "Buf- I mean, Bogo wants you to grab me and Carrots, and run at the first sign of trouble?"

The cheetah raised an eyebrow. "He trusts her more than that," she allowed, adding thoughtfully, "though he did mention that he's not happy about you wanting to give him an inaccurate report, Hopps. Basically, though, I'm supposed to do whatever I have to." She reached down and patted something at her hip for emphasis, and while neither of the pair could see it under the table, they both realized she was patting her holstered sidearm. "As for you, Wilde, he's also not too happy about Officer Hopps bringing a civilian with us on the go, but he trusts me and I'm willing to do what it takes."

"I get the feeling he's generally just not happy," Nick ventured.

Catano's eyes flashed. "Chief Bogo's been in the business for more than two decades," she answered tersely. "He's seen what can happen if cops get reckless, and he's assigned me to make sure it doesn't happen on this case. If you don't like listening to me, fine. If you get shot, though, or turned on Judy, it's not going to be because I got caught napping. Got it?"

The prospect of being specifically targeted put Nick rather ill at ease. It had been one thing taking a blueberry when he knew it was a trap and that, for all appearances to the contrary, he and Judy were in full control of the whole situation. The thought of going through the same thing without warning – and worse, of actually becoming a danger – was a whole different issue.

"Got it," he said in answer to Catano's question. Then something else crossed his mind. "By the way, was it you who insisted Carrots not tell me about the threat?"

Catano folded her paws. "Guilty," she admitted, "and to be honest I'd do it again under those circumstances. Part of our policy at the ZPD is to keep quiet about matters unless the information can do some good to the public, and I had yet to see enough danger to justify the risk. Even with your help on the sting, I hadn't had time to draw any conclusions about you." She stopped as if that were all, then spoke again like a builder who decides a nail needs just one more whack. "Besides, you should know better than anyone what happened the last time we spread the news about predators being a potential threat."

Nick did remember. "Yeah, and I'm kind of surprised you'd be so reluctant to think outside the box after that. A pred on the police force? Must have been tough."

"I adapted," Catano answered, unflappable as ever. The truth was, she had even used it to her advantage once or twice. With prey and even preds fearing her, getting confessions had been much easier than otherwise. "And we're adapting now. I could make a strong argument for telling you flat-out you're off the case, or even taking you into protective custody." Pausing the merest moment to watch their eyes widen and their mouths drop just a little in dismay, she added, "I'm not going to do that right now, and I'd rather you not make me do it later. I think you'll be more helpful if we all work on this as partners. I'll fill you in, but I need something from the two of you for the information."

"What's that?" asked Judy.

"First of all, I need to know you, Wilde, will keep a lid on things. If Judy trusts you then so do I, but I have to say it. Second, I need to be sure you two will keep me in the loop as an officer. Third, if I decide things are getting out of hand or out of line, I don't want any arguments. You especially, Wilde. If we're going to make a cop out of you, you'll have to take orders." She looked each of them in the eyes in turn. "Do we have a deal?"

Judy could feel Nick's gaze turn to her, and met it with her own. A silent, almost telepathic missive came her way: 'You up for this?'

Almost imperceptibly, she nodded and turned to the cheetah. "Deal. We're a team, then?"

The corners of Catano's mouth turned upward just a little. "As long as we don't do the paw-stack," she answered. Before either of them could wonder if they had actually just heard her make a wisecrack, she slipped a folder out of a little ledge below the table top and put it down in front of them with a slap. "Now, I've been looking at the reports on the case thus far to get up to speed. I'm counting on you two to fill me in on the details, but you're investigating Olivia Poisson, owner and CEO of Pwasson's Passion. She has past connections to Doug Ramses, and her company frequently uses Midnicampum holicithias as a kind of psychotropic ingredient. However, she flatly denies any involvement with the scheme. Anything I'm missing so far?"

Judy frowned at the mention of the skunk. "Just that she's definitely not telling me everything she knows."

"Suspects withhold information. Get used to it," the cheetah replied. "Have you heard back about the warrant?"

The rabbit's expression fell, and she could feel Nick's eyes on her as well as Catano's. "Uh, no," she admitted. "Come to think of it, I haven't."

Catano bit her lip. "The system's slowed down with everything going on, but it shouldn't have taken this long."

Nick felt the need to save his friend some face. "You think the fake bomb might have been meant to throw us off?" he asked. "Get Judy rattled so she'd forget to follow up?"

The cheetah put a paw to her chin thoughtfully. "You've got good instincts, Wilde – or lots of experience," she added as an afterthought. "Though a move like that would be either very smart or very stupid."

Judy was about to ask why, then paused a moment to see if she could figure it out and avoid looking like a newbie. "Because I'd know the package was from her, which would redouble my attention on her, right?"

"Exactly. If it worked, you'd be so preoccupied with the records that you'd forget about other options like a direct inspection. If it didn't work, you'd be after her with a vengeance."

"Then we should follow up on the warrant first," Judy concluded.

Catano got up. "That would make the most sense, but I'm not counting on a break there. City Hall is in worse shape than it was even with Bellwether running things, so we can't depend on anything quick from them. Once we do what we can there, we need to reevaluate all the suspects for anything that might give us a clue to... hmmm." She trailed off in thought.

"What is it?" asked Nick.

"A possibility, but we need to look into the warrant first. Then we can start broadening our search."

"Broadening how?" asked Judy.

Catano smiled, though whether she was pleased at the question or enjoying an ego trip, neither of the short sleuths could say. "Obearon is the key factor right now. If we find him, he'll lead us to the others – and until we find them, he won't be able to give them new orders. So if we want to find the new leader..."

"Bellwether!" exclaimed Judy.

"Right. I'll need to get some things we'll want when we question her. Hopps, you know what to do."

Judy was, to be honest, a bit demoralized by the thought of talking with Bellether. However, she nodded assent and headed off to retrieve the appropriate phone number.

Seeing Nick's momentary hesitation, Catano cleared her throat. "You might as well come with me," she suggested.

Nick started, looked the way Judy had gone, and thought better of any course other than immediate cooperation. "Uh, right," he agreed warily, getting up. Then, as he proceeded after the cheetah, a thought came to him. "Uh, officer," he asked, "what if the suspects try darting you?"

Catano gave a grim smile. "I've been shot at before. You work at this long enough, you develop a knack for dodging."

It was an impressive claim, but not entirely reassuring. "And if you do get hit?"

This time the cheetah's answer was a little more contemplative. "If that happens, get somewhere I can't reach – fast."

Gah! thought Xavier, fumbling with a rack of nearly microscopic mouse-sized shin guards. A number of the tiny objects had just fallen off, and were in line to take even longer to re-rack than the mouse-sized bicycle helmets he'd struggled through the previous hour. How was I supposed to know I'd need tweezers today?

At the sporting goods store of which he was manager, Xavier Moonbeamer was not having the best of days. For one thing, he was doing an inventory of the smaller equipment – and while he didn't exactly mind such tasks, the raccoon who usually took care of those items was really a lot more dexterous than he was. Unfortunately, the raccoon was off due to injuries incurred in the previous day's attack. He was one of the lucky ones, though. The doctors said he'd be back to work in a couple of weeks.

Xavier, alas, wasn't sure he'd last that long. After almost two hours of trying to do the raccoon's job, he had eye strain from trying to manipulate tiny packages, a headache from trying to tell apart the different sizes of equipment for mammals smaller than his own paw, and dirt all over his front from a few occasions where he'd had to lie down to arrange the smaller (and lower) displays.

It didn't help that he was trying to do all of this while also trying to make a call on his BlueFang. He hadn't known it was possible to get a ringback tone stuck in one's head, but he had learned that painful reality through his interminable efforts to get hold of Regis Killrahb's assistant about the concert.

"Come on," he groaned. He was normally a very patient wolf, but things were not going his way at all that particular day.

At long last, the ringback ended.

"Hi. This is Xavier Moonbeamer," he rattled off before the mammal at the other end even had time to speak. He had some regrets that his tone betrayed his frazzled state, but he was too far gone to let that stop him. "I hate to complain, but I've been trying to reach you for ages now."

The spectral bat answered in his usual staccato, Zooropean-accented voice. "Very sorry, Mr. Moonshiner. It's a madhouse this morning, and I'm not myself til the sun's down, you know."

"I can understand that – and it's Moonbeamer," the wolf corrected, "but is there any word about the concert yet? They've got some kind of backup location planned, right?"

"Everyone's asking that, but I haven't found any word on it. The Chamber of Commerce is having an emergency meeting to sort out details this afternoon."

Xavier had to bite his lip. It's not his fault, he told himself. It's not his fault. It's not his fault. Out loud he asked, "Well can you at least tell me if the concert's going to be re-scheduled? My band's been bending over backwards to clear up time for it, and... yes, I understand that, but... no, no I'm not trying to give you a hard time, but we need to know when we're supposed to perform." Xavier hated losing his cool. It wasn't his way.

"There's a meeting to settle that this afternoon," LeWing repeated by way of a promise. "In fact I have to make sure I have all of Mr. Killrahb's papers for it, since he's unavailable. I can call you with the results around... four o'clock."

Xavier wearily checked his day planner. Isabelle and I are meeting with Jerry about then, he reflected. "Can you text it?" he asked. "I have another appointment, and I'd hate to... yeah, thanks."

The call concluded, and both mammals hung up in exasperation. "I sure hope this day gets better," Xavier groaned wearily. He would hate to show up grouchy when he and his wife met with Jerry Brisbound for ice cream.

"I hope Mr. Killrahb is better soon," sighed the bat, taking a mouthful of coffee. "I hate this management stuff."

So, there you have it, but what is 'it'? Why is Obearon so rattled all of a sudden, and what's going to happen now that Doug is stocking up on arms? Meanwhile, how will this new alliance in the ZPD work out, or the meeting about the concert, or the Moonbeamers' meeting with Jerry (whoever he is)? Lastly, what loose end am I deliberately leaving out? Well, you'll just have to wait for the answers until next time.

I will say one thing now: remember that shady conversation a few chapters back about keeping an eye on our deductive duo? That was Chief Bogo and Officer Catano. You have been hustled.

Easter Eggs

Ice Age 2

Stuart Little 2

The Mouse and the Motorcycle

Also, I included the bat and the raccoon on request (from Berserker 88 and dispix94, respectively). I actually had plans to include each of those at later dates (a raccoon in particular will be playing an important part), but I hate to make fans wait if I can get around something sooner. As for the bat, Walter LeWing is of the species known as Spectral Bats, or Vampyrum spectrum, in our world. You may know them better by their older name, False Vampire Bats , though I was glad to find they had a new name. I can't help thinking that in Zootopia, False Vampire Bat would be a lot like False Indian or False Scotsman. In any case, true vampire bats, which usually feed on the blood of hooved mammals or birds, Spectral Bats feed on all manner of small vertebrates, including other bats. Fans of the Silverwing books and cartoons may recall this species as the main villains, Goth and Throbb. Naturally, Walter is more civilized and would, at most, consume non-sentient vertebrates. I fancy he has a fondness for frogs, based on his French-based last name.

I took some liberties with LeWing's background, since Zootopia seems to jumble geography a bit anyway (a rhino with an Irish last name, for instance). Spectral Bats are, in the real world, native to South America, not Europe/Zoorope.

As for the raccoon referred to in this chapter... well, he was originally going to be a zebra, but I decided having Xavier struggle to do the work of a far smaller mammal would be more interesting; sort of a reverse of the deleted scene where Judy had to use an elephant-sized computer (I really wish they had kept that in the movie, because it was a lot of fun to watch).