So, feeling better about that, he spends the rest of the day working on the Ball Lightning program. And here too he sees signs of some progress, signs that they might possibly reach the deadline with a workable system. The programmers have come to him chattering with excitement about a program that will successfully latch the beams from several lasers to a missile, in a phased array; this vastly increases the intensity of the beam, so that the shock pulse will work again. They also believe they can track the missiles past the boost phase, by extrapolating their courses very precisely. Combine that with the shorter dwell time offered by the phased array and … they might just be able to knock down the percentage specified by the Air Force. It could happen. Even though it may take them into the post–boost phase a bit.

Spurred by the possibility, McPherson wheedles, coaxes, and bullies Dan Houston into reactivating his brain and doing his share of the work; it will take a push effort by everyone to get the job done in time, a sort of phased array of effort. And Houston is a mess. He’s never mentioned to Dennis the evening at El Torito when Dennis had to help him down to his car; but now it’s clear to Dennis that that was not a particularly unusual evening. Dan is drinking heavily every day; he needs a haircut, sometimes he needs a shave, his clothes look slept in; really, he’s the stereotype of the man whose ally has left him, whose life is falling apart. Sometimes Dennis wants to snap at him, say, “Come off it, Dan, you’re living a video script!”

But then it occurs to him that Houston’s pain is real enough, and that this is the only way he knows how to express it, if he is consciously living the role. And if not, it’s just what happens when you don’t care anymore, when you’ve lost hope, when you’ve started drinking hard.

So McPherson takes him out to lunch, and listens to his whole sad story, which he is now willing to talk about openly—“The truth is, Mac, Dawn has moved up to her folks’.” “Oh, really?”—and Dennis gives him a pep talk, and talks to him in intense detail about what needs to be done by Houston and Houston’s part of the team, and he even refuses to allow Houston to order another pitcher of margaritas, though that only gets him a look of dull resentment. “Do it after work if you have to, Dan,” McPherson snaps, irritated with him. Stewart Lemon tactics? Well, whatever it takes; they don’t have much time left.