HOSS: Well, he’s gonna suss it now. I’ll get a short fleet together and blow him out. He’s gonna git so spun he’ll think Phoenix is on the other side of the Antarctic.

BECKY: You gonna drop class? Is that it? Run with the Claimers? Sacrifice Solo Rights? You’ll be a Gang Bopper again. A Punk Chump. Exile Bandito Trash. I ain’t runnin with no Exile.

HOSS: I need the points! That Gold Record is not gonna wait for me to get straight with the Code. I’m not coppin to Ethical Suicide here, and miss a shot at a monster Matar. I need the fuckin points! I need a Kill!

MEERA: Best to hold steady, Hoss. This is a tender time. Lookee here. Just take a peep. Bits and choppers, but it scans.

(He throws more images on walls, screens, set, etc.)

HOSS: I don’t need to visio more random road litter! I’m sittin on Ready!

MEERA: Just peek it. Timing. Wrong move’ll set you back a year or more. Charts are moving too fast. Every day there’s a new Star Marker now. You don’t wanna be a Flyby. You want somethin durable, everlasting.

BECKY: He’s choogin, Hoss. Loopy but choogin.

HOSS: He’s dead meat. Look at this Vector shit on the wall! How do you make hide or hair outa this data mush?

MEERA: Patterns, Hoss. Matrix Mesh out there that needs new modes to conjure. I’m playing all this off the wall. Same as the rest.

HOSS: You’re not comin up with an action! A Kill! You’re fartin around in Info-Retard Land while my blood’s on Go!

BECKY: Gotta listen to Management, Hoss. Fingering is everything.

HOSS: Management? This Zoombah can’t even figure out the wiring anymore. Lookit him! Pathetic. Crawling through radio voltage from some lost World War his Daddy can’t remember. Git his ass gone! I need me a Forward Man. Git me a Dee Jay or something. One a the Stand Bys.

MEERA: A Dee Jay?

HOSS: (to MEERA) Git gone, Gazer. You’ve iced up in this crib.

BECKY: You’re not firing him?

HOSS: (to BECKY) You’re the one told me he was buckled!

BECKY: Yeah, but you can’t just shunt him out on the Lone PrayerEE. They’ll dice him up for quick snacks.

MEERA: (gathering up his equipment) I’ll pack it. I was daydreaming a change of scenery anyhow. Stagnation never was my cup of meat.

HOSS: (still sitting) I forged all my early Marks on Ruthless Culls. Ruthless. I’m not going soft now. Gotta kick out all the scruples. Go against the Code. That’s what they all used to do. The Big Guns: Little Richard, Jerry Lee, Duane Eddy, Gene Vincent. They all broke Codes.