“Good grief,” Jack said, as he strode out into the reception area. “Has Rob forgotten to tell me something very interesting? Have you and Michael—?”

“He’s not ours,” I said. “He’s only temporary.”

“Taking a test drive to see if you like the model? Smart move.”

“Actually, I’m looking for his mother. And his father, for that matter. That’s why I called you.”

“Oh, God,” he said. “You’re not going to ask me where I was on the night of November 13th and pull out a Q-tip to sample my DNA, are you?” I could tell he was clowning. Possibly for the benefit of Apple, who was drinking in our conversation.

“Nothing so dramatic,” I said. “I know his father’s identity; it’s his whereabouts that are in question.”

“Yeah, I figured. I may have something for you. Come on.”

He turned to go into the main office area.

“Wait—you’re not leaving him here, are you?” Apple protested.

“Of course not,” Jack said, though clearly he had been about to. He strode over to Timmy, picked him up and lifted him up over his head. Timmy squealed with delight, as he usually did at becoming airborne.

“Whoa,” Jack said, pretending to tap Timmy’s head against the ceiling tiles. “Would you look at this kid! He’s too big for our office—even taller than I am. Come on, Timmy; we’ll find some way to make you useful.”

He set off down the hallway, alternately lifting Timmy up near the ceiling and waving him down along the floor. Fortunately, Mutant Wizards wasn’t the sort of place where a squealing toddler would prove much of a disruption to the working day. Only two or three employees stuck their heads out as we passed, and they didn’t seem annoyed, just curious.

Jack stopped at a cubicle and set Timmy down.

“Here, Hal. I’ve got a test subject for you.”

Hal, a sleepy-looking thirty-something Asian man, regarded Timmy with greater enthusiasm than most people would have shown at having a two-year-old suddenly dropped off in their office.

“Test subject for what?” I asked, feeling suddenly protective.

“Kiddy games,” Hal said.

“New game line we’re experimenting with,” Jack said. “Educational games for preschoolers. Hal, why don’t you and Muriel see if Timmy likes any of the prototypes.”

Muriel, apparently, was the young woman with the purple hair sitting in Hal’s cube. She examined Timmy with calm interest.

Now that Timmy was on the ground, he was starting to look a little anxious at being in a strange place, surrounded by strangers. He grabbed my leg and I found myself feeling curiously protective.

“It’s okay, Timmy,” I said, leaning over and putting my arm around him. “Hal and Muriel are going to show you some computer games. Would you like that?”

Timmy nodded, a little tentatively.

“Do you like tractors?” Hal asked. “And trains?”

Timmy nodded with a little more enthusiasm.

Muriel hitched herself closer to one of the four computers crowded into the cubicle and tapped a few keys. A brightly colored, highly detailed cartoon of a tractor appeared on the screen.