‘This sounds like bullshit.’ John pressed his lips into a thin line. ‘His gizmo won’t work without a 68030,’ I said. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ John said. ‘It’s a microchip.’ Simon shuffled along the sofa. ‘In development. Not yet released.’ I would have asked how Simon knew this shit, but it was the sort of stuff that he always knew. Anything from the gauge of an unknown stretch of rail track in the Alabama mountains to the specifications of an unreleased microchip.
