Marcus Gray watched in consternation as the viral program cranked up. He knew that in moments the band of hackers would once again take over the Manhattan power grid. For now, they were doing it as a prank. But he also realized it could be a test run for something even bigger. Like a grid-by-grid shutdown of the entire system, opening the door for untold mayhem on the darkened streets.

Moments later, messages from the hacker gang started appearing on all their terminals. Taunting barbs letting everyone know that they were in complete control and nobody could stop them. Gray shook his head and closed his eyes, hoping that this would pass quickly. Losing power even in one part of the grid could spell pandemonium and place lives and fortunes at risk. The weight on his shoulders was crushing.

"I think I can help," said a voice from behind. Lane McBride from the Federal Counter-Terrorism Unit based in Manhattan, leaned over to regard Gray's terminal.

Gray turned to the voice, recognizing it with hope in his eyes, and said, "They're at it again."

"I saw the precursors," McBride noted, "That they were entering the system."

"Yeah, but it doesn't matter if we can't find exactly where they are," Gray sighed, shaking his head, "They're in a hundred different buildings, including the Empire State. You guys have agents standing by at all of them, but they have to search the buildings floor-by-floor to find them. The problem is, we have to shut down communications for the building so that they can't warn each other. So even if we could catch a few, do you have any idea how long a floor-to-floor search takes in the Empire State? We can't keep that building offline from communication for that long."

"Not to worry," McBride grinned, "I have an algorithm that will directly pinpoint their floors. All we have to do is send our officers up to the floor, and I bet we can round them up in minutes."

"Wow," Gray whistled, "I'd like to see that."

McBride whipped out a flash stick, plugged it in and let the program do its work. Within seconds, it had pinpointed each hacker, the building their signal was coming from and the floor of the building. "Here we go."

"I like it," Gray grinned.

McBride touched several buttons on his phone and dispatched the information, and monitored as each of the officers acknowledged the information and the plan. "We'll know soon enough."

Gray noted, "The problem has always been that they could hear us coming and could shift floors anytime they wanted."

"Not this time," McBride smirked, "At least, not if we do it right."

The first officer to report back was from the Empire State. Two of the hackers had been stationed there on separate floors. Both were now in custody and unable to warn their cohorts in the other buildings. Gray listened in awe as one by one, the officers reported in, having captured their respective quarries with minimal effort.

"That was brilliant," Gray stared at the screen as the weight seemed to lift from his shoulders, "How did you come up with the algorithm?"

"Simple process of elimination. I just looked at the problem from a very-large-scale search. The most important information is where the perps aren't - not where they are. The algorithm zones in on the candidate floor by understanding which floors are not candidates. Process of elimination leads the way. So we can search the Empire State and Chrysler buildings just as quickly as a single-story, capture the floor number and we're done."

---------------------

Some of you already see the parallels. It's how a zone map works. But how does it apply?

When we take a look at the Record Distribution option in the Netezza Admin GUI, we're often happy with a "ragged edge" for all the SPUs. And a "flat top" is the ticket. But what about the case of a "Manhattan Skyline", where we have high peaks and low valleys? This is higher than normal skew (something we're supposed to avoid, right?) People see those and shun them. However, these are often the natural result of an intermediate table produced by an ELT operation, and often a result of multi-pass queries in a BI tool. These usually leverage the mainstay workhorse CTAS (Create-Table-As-Select), so in many cases, people are tempted to turn on "random" for all CTAS operations. Or just maybe - one of our regular static supporting tables is deliberately distributed as a Manhattan Skyline just because we want to regularly perform co-located joins with it on larger master table using the same distribution key.

In any case, a primary reason we would get this kind of Manhattan Skyline distribution is if we are trying to preserve an existing distribution in order to perform a follow-on operation with tables on the same distribution. Whew! And why would we allow this to continue? Isn't a random distribution better than a Manhattan Skyline? Our problem remains: if the table has such a Manhattan Skyline distribution, we have higher than normal skew. Any full-scan on the table will cause the query to perform as slow as the "tallest bar"  (the SPU with too much of the table's data). As the table grows in size, the problem worsens. It is not a scalable distribution in its latent form, so don't embrace one without a plan.

Well, random distribution has a risk too, especially at the BI level, of negatively affecting concurrency performance. Even if our individual queries are not hindered by the data-broadcast incurred by the random distribution, they could just be a one-hit-wonder, because running many of these operations side-by-side can sometimes saturate the inter-SPU fabric, affecting concurrency. If we can keep the processing on the SPUs, we can avoid this problem entirely. So the issue is one of user scalability, something that all of us care about and that the other vendors (sometimes) turn a blind eye to. Netezza has it covered, and as usual, it's so simple a cave man could do it (now I'll get mail!)

So now we have two options, neither of which seem good - (a) keep the Manhattan Skyline distribution or (b) use a random one. Let me say that random is not always bad, but it poses a potential danger for concurrency. Likewise the Manhattan Skyline can often be a latent result of an intermediate CTAS so is unavoidable anyhow. And why would we want to preserve an existing distribution on a CTAS? The answer - because it will be a co-located write (blazingly fast). But wait! Don't we get a co-located write by default?

Maybe.

I have noted in prior posts how the default distribution for a CTAS might not be what we want or expected, so here's a quick recap:

(a) For simple single-table CTAS, it will preserve the source distribution key - (co-located write)

(b) For simple multi-table-join CTAS, it will leverage the first column result in the "select" clause (maybe a co-located write)

(c) For CTAS using summaries/group functions in the select, it will leverage the columns in the "group-by" clause (rarely a co-located write)

If any of the above are not the original distribution of the source(s), we could inadvertently sacrfice our co-located write. But we can preserve it if we specifically use "distribute on" with the CTAS execution. With co-located writes, this means the data never leaves the SPUs. If we distribute the CTAS on anything else, the data must leave its current SPU and find its way to another one. This initiates a data broadcast (and can negatively affect concurrency). Preserving the distribution, we get the benefit of a co-located write (avoiding broadcast to make the table) and set up the next operation for a co-located read (also avoid the broadcast to leverage the table). Short answer: preserving the distribution preserves concurrency performance. Now the SPUs are working for us at physics-speed.

Rather than just live with the latent effects, lets embrace and harness them for the good of all mankind. Well - er -  at least for our user base.

What we really want is threefold -

(1) preserve the distribution with a co-located write (preserve concurrency, potential Manhattan Skyline as latent artifact)
(2) leverage the result with a co-located read (preserve concurrency, potential penalty from Manhattan Skyline)
(3) mitigate the Manhattan Skyline with a zone map (ahh, best of all worlds)

So to get the first two, we can simply preserve the distribution with a "distribute on (key)" clause and make sure the distribution key is part of the "where/join" operations.. This is the simple part.

To get the third, we need to either (a) sort the data as it is created, or (b) make a materialized view after-the-fact to get the zone map effect for selected columns. The first one (sorting) is often easier than it sounds, and with strongly filtered intermediate tables is also very scalable. The second one (materialized view) has some caveats but is very fast to create. What does the zone map actually do? It effectively stripes each SPUs portion of the table so that only the section in the zone is actually addressed. Like McBride's algorithm, it's as though the rest of the data isn't even there, because the zone map has guided the optimizer to completely ignore it. So whether the SPU's data has a tall bar or a short bar, the performance is the same. We need all three of the above and the zone map mitigates the potential problem of unexpectedly high skew from an intermediate distribution - or an outlier table that we need to distribute on a common key. Even if (1) and (2) above give us a good distribution today, it could always "go Manhattan" in the future.

Another obvious question is "If this is an intermediate result, why bother? Just filter out the stuff I don't want and then there's no issue, right?" Well, technically yes, for a single operation, but I know of at least a dozen cases where the intermediate table is used for a lot of downstream activity, not just a one-off throwaway. So our stewardship rule is: make the data better. For the next downstream process or the ultimate data consumer, the data should get better every time we touch it.

Rather than rewrite or re-design a carefully tested and detailed process, adding a simple "order by" or MV is easy and preserves the existing logic, and data model, with little impact and high return. This is especially true of a static supporting table, because we can install what we need on the table's creation. The consuming processes all benefit from it with no more than regular query execution (materialized views are transparent).

In the end, we can still leverage the plain-vanilla parts of the Netezza performance model (zone maps, co-location) without having to over-engineer the data using indexes, intersection tables or summaries. This preserves something more  - the ongoing resilience and adaptability of the model itself.

Recap:

• Apply the "distribute on" clause of the CTAS to avoid the latent effect of default distribution.
• Preserve co-location for reads and writes in intermediate tables.
• If a potential Manhattan Skyline distribution is the CTAS result, rather than go random, sort the CTAS result by a selected column or use a materialized view.
• As always, apply strong filters to the CTAS creation so that it's not simply copying one table's contents to another (carve the data out).
• Experiment for the best fit, but remember that Netezza is an appliance.
• We don't need to engineer the queries, only apply simple performance model alignments in the data itself, to leverage the machine's physics

As the sunrise peeked over the horizon, it cast long shadows over the four cars awaiting the break of dawn. Stretching before them, the expanse of the salt flat beckoned, nay taunted them, to accelerate across its ancient surface. Not caring for the winner or loser, it merely provided a level playing field for them to test their wares and technology. But yawned at the futility of the race itself. The salt flat had always been, and always would be. Come one, come all, it invited daily, almost mockingly.

The leader for team-Exa sat in his racer's driver seat, eyes closed. When he felt the warmth of the morning touch his face, he raised an eyelid to examine the time. Now thirty minutes from flag-down, the sun would still be at his back when he won the race. And he would win the race.

The lead for team-Terra pushed back into her driver's chair to stretch her legs as her eyes fluttered open. She glanced toward her left to the Exa racer, gleaming in the morning sun, and then to her right at the NZ racer, its plain black lines and nondescript exterior, she knew, hid the power under its frame, and was nothing to be trifled with.

The fourth car on the end, entered in the eleventh hour was a plain vanilla Volkswagen Beetle with a rocket engine attached to its backside. No frills, no nonsense and nothing hidden. Five men from Redmond had delivered it last evening. They hadn't even had time to take a test run on the flat.

Minutes later all four drivers and their lackeys met in front of the four cars, partly to wish each other luck and partly to offer last minute trash-talk. Dominic Toretto, the driver of the NZ machine, ran his hands over his bald scalp and rubbed it vigorously, as if massaging the sleep from his head, then yawned and said, "Okay gentlemen. We're fifteen minutes from flag-down. Anyone want to back out? I swear we won't hold it against you."

"Dude," laughed Excel, the driver for the Redmond machine, "In your dreams. I have investors watching."

"As do I," smiled Tara, the only female driver, and would command the blue-streamlined Terra racer, named for its ability to master the earth and its elements. "We're all in this for keeps." She batted her eyes and tilted her head flirtatiously, "You want to see under my hood?"

"Out here in the open?" Toretto laughed, drawing chuckles from the others, "Sure, let's see what you have."

She ignored the innuendo and pointed her keytag toward the Terra racer and pressed a button, causing both side doors to slide away and the hood to pop open. Toretto strolled over to examine the engine. He'd seen these before.

"Lot of power under that hood," he quipped.

"Yeah," she said, expecting a bit more enthusiasm for her machine. She wouldn't find it among any of these drivers, though. They lived and breathed adrenalin, and knew as much about her machine as she did. And weren't in denial about its weaknesses, either.

"Looks plain," said Jeff, driver for the Exa-car, "And as you can see, not enough control."

"So let's look at yours," Toretto said, a twinkle in his eye.

As they sauntered to the next car, Jeff's lackey whispered in Toretto's ear, "We've radar-mapped the entire flat between here and the finish line. Every bump is programmed into the machine. You think that's a competitive advantage?" He slapped Toretto on the back and laughed loudly.

"Bumps don't matter," Toretto muttered, with the strength and experience of someone who would know.

Jeff spun to face him, "What was that?" he laughed, "Bumps don't matter. Did you hear that?" he looked around him to the others, with his lackey already laughing, "He says bumps don't matter." He crossed his arms, "Would it matter to you if I said that ignoring bumps at these speeds is like a death wish?"

"No."

"No, what? No it won't matter what I say, or bumps still don't matter?"

"Either way," Toretto said with a wry grin, "Bumps don't matter."

Jeff threw up his hands in frustration as Toretto poked his head into the Exa-racer's driver side window. Jeff asked, "What do you think, huh?"

Toretto examined the interior, laid out like a Boeing 757 cockpit. Three LCD screens loaded with controls and meters, flashing lights all around the dashboard and dozens of knobs and gears. "Got a lot of moving parts," Toretto sighed, "Think you'll need all that?"

"No more, no less," Jeff said, "Our investors are very demanding. All the tires and wheels are measured for pressure and impact, the dual-redundant monitors compensate for any detected differences, and the pre-mapped radar anticipates every bump and turn."

"It's a salt flat," Toretto grinned, patting him on the side of his shoulder, "There are no turns. And bumps don't matter."

Jeff nearly bit his tongue, but instead smiled and shook his head while Toretto continued his examination.

"Looks to me like," Toretto finally said, "You decked out the car just for this ride."

"Yeah. So?"

"Well, it might work for a salt flat under controlled conditions, but it's not streetworthy."

"We're not testing on a street," Jeff fired back, "All that matters is who makes it to the other side."

"Really?" Toretto raised an eyebrow, "You think people will be knocking on your door to buy a few of these to come out here to run on salt flats?" He laughed, "Your investors will expect to see the performance you show here," he pointed toward the West, "Out there. Or they can't make any money. Optimizing your car, just for this test, doesn't mean anything."

"We'll see," Jeff snapped.

"I'd like an assessment of my car, if you don't mind," said Less, the driver for the Redmond car.

Toretto simply said, "Not much different from the Exa. Except you don't make any bones about the fact that you've strapped a jet engine to an underpowered car. You think those wheels and frame can handle the stress of the race? We'll see how you do on the flats. That's all I can say."

"Gentlemen," intoned a voice all around them, coming from well-placed speakers, "We're five minutes from flags-down so anything you need for warm-up, do it now."

Jeff punched a button on his keytag to remotely initiate his computers into a final pre-race system check. Toretto slowly strolled back to his car, opened the door and flopped into the driver's seat. His lackey Mark, younger than he but the sharpest of his crew, brushed back a long black lock of hair and positioned it over his ear, then silently joined Toretto in the passenger seat. After Toretto punched several buttons to initiate the engine, Mark  could no longer hold it in.

"Don't you think we're about to get smoked here?" Mark said, glancing to the Exa car, "I mean, radar mapping, all those controls and - I mean - "

"I know what you mean," Toretto said casually, engaging the first gear, "Just trust the machine."

"I know what your philosophy is," Mark sighed, shaking his head, "Put it all under the hood, make it self contained, but what if you need to get creative in the middle of the race?"

"Would one of our customers have the option to get creative?" Toretto asked, allowing the car to roll ahead to the starting line. "Do we let them add stuff to the machine? Do we require them to know a lot about what's under the hood?"

"No, but -"

"But what?"

"I don't know what! It just seems like they have more, you know, more -"

"More what?"

"I don't know what! It just seems like more."

"More to break. More to maintain and watch - when the real mission is to go fast on the flats. And everywhere else."

"You think we'll win?"

"Trust the machine."

Presently a racing judge appeared with a flag in each hand, and took his place between the two middle cars. Watching the clock count down, he raised the flags high, then started counting down loudly.

"Hold on to your chair," Toretto mumbled, "It's a little rough out of the gate."

"I'm ready," Mark said, holding tightly to the chair, pushing against the floorboard to press his back into the chair's leather. He'd made the mistake of eating a meal just prior to the first test runs the week before, and had spent an hour cleaning his half-digested meal from the dashboard and interior windshield. This time, he'd fasted for twenty four hours. Nothing remained in his stomach, he was sure of it.

Over in the Exa-racer, Jeff had strapped himself into his seat, and his onboard systems had just finished its run-through only seconds before the flags would fall. The carefully tuned machine would master the flats today. The machine, and his name, would soon be synonymous with extreme speed and power. He would win this race. He was sure of it.

Each driver sat in breathless anticipation as the judge counted down to zero, and watched almost in slow motion as the flags went down. But that's when anything "slow motion" utterly ended. Each of the machines engaged their own forms of acceleration. The Redmond machine driver simply turned a valve and flooded the rocket engine with fuel. It's ignition was like an explosion of TNT and it blasted from the line like, well, like a rocket.

"They're getting ahead of us," Mark complained as the NZ car's acceleration pulled him deeper into the leather.

"It's just a side effect of packaging," Toretto said, his pulse rate not having changed one beat faster, "Just be patient."

Without warning, the Redmond machine sputtered and fishtailed its wheels as they passed it, Mark spun his head as the Redmond machine flew past them and they left it in a wall of salty dust. He then looked back at the Exa racer, and to Jeff's eyes riveted forward, set like flint againt the Western sky.

"How did you -" Mark began.

"Know it would run out of power?" Toretto lifted one side of his mouth, "Get real."

"We're still ahead of the others," Mark noted pensively, glancing around toward Tara, who seemed oblivious to everything around her.

"It will stay that way," Toretto said simply.

"So that's it," said Mark, "We stay in these race positions until the end?"

"No, they will think the race is over soon, and make their move."

Suddenly Tara's car started gaining ground, like something pushing it from behind. Mark saw her pulling up behind them fast, and faster still, "She's coming. She's coming really fast."

"Naah, she's just changed her fuel mix. Thinks going from 55/50 to 25/50 will actually matter."

Mark spun toward the Exa racer, now closing the distance, "He's coming too, Are we slowing down, or are they -"

"Making their move," Toretto said quietly.

"Aren't you going to do something? They're gaining!"

"Let them burn out," Toretto chided as the two competitor machines passed them and gained their respective leads, "And besides, the race is won in the architecture, not the gadgets."

"What difference does it make if we're behind?"

Toretto watched as the odometer slowly ticked over, And over again. "We're almost there, are you strapped in?"

"Yes, I'm strapped in, but almost where? Where is there?"

"There," Toretto pointed to a tinted stain in the salt flat, and watched the odometer tick over to the prescribed reading. "Here we go. Hold on."

"What are you doing?"

Toretto ignored him and pressed a switch on the dashboard. They could hear a whining mechanical noise coming from the rear as two gleaming foils slowly rose from the tail of their accelerating vehicle.

"What are those?"

"What did the Exa driver say?" Toretto reminded, "That at these speeds, bumps count. Actually, at these speeds,what counts is stabilization."

"How will those make us more stable? It looks like they're slowing us down!"

"Brace yourself," Toretto said, and punched the second button. "Accelerators engaged."

In that instant, the air inside the car seemed to grow thin, and the air around them seemed to radically change, buffeting the racer with increasing intensity. Then Mark felt it, a pulling, g-force of acceleration as it pressed him deep into the leather of his chair, and caused the blood to run from his face and into the back of his head. With a whoosh-whoosh, they passed the other two cars as though they were standing still.

Jeff watched helplessly as the NZ racer flew past them. Upon glancing down and across the controls, all of their gauges were standing at the max, pinned almost into the red line. Even if he could make it go faster, they would incur irreversible structural stress, and possibly crack apart on the flats, spinning into a million pieces. Jeff furiously spun dials and adjusted controls, attempting to squeeze just a bit more power from the machine. If he couldn't come in first, second place would have to do. Jeff now cursed his own racer as it entered the NZ racer's dust trail. His investors would be livid.

Tara furiously slammed her palm into the steering wheel, repeatedly cursing as the NZ car disappeared into the distance. Switching her fuel mixture from 55/50 to 25/50 had made her car lighter and more agile, but had not offered the additional speed. At least, not that kind of speed.

Then something rushed toward both their cars as the NZ racer crossed the sound barrier, a shockwave ripped up the surface of the salt flat and met them head-on. The Terra car was more stable, so the wave simply bounced its wheels. The Exa car was not so lucky. When the shockwave hit, the passengers heard the sonic boom before they felt it lift the racer's front end and flip it backwards, spinning it in a barrel-roll as it tried to find its footing again. Its back wheels landed first, then the front, causing the back wheels to lift off again, then the front, rocking violently back and forth like this at least five times before the right front tire blew out, sending the vehicle into a wild spin.

Jeff could hear and feel the car's structure releasing and popping from the stress. At this speed and rate of rotation, the Exa-racer's uncontrolled spin would rapidly develop enough centrifugal force to turn human brains to scrambled eggs. Jeff felt the red-out coming as an automatic release triggered and both their ejection seats activated, separately catapulting them hundreds of feet into the air. Their parachutes deployed when they reached apex, and Jeff witnessed his car disintegrate on the salt flat.

Jeff lifted his gaze into the West, watching the NZ car disappear like a speck in the wake of its own shockwave, churning up the ground behind it. It would likely reach the finish line before his parachute even touched him to the ground.

Toretto casually glanced to his rear-view mirror, watchind the salt flat behind him, practically corrugating the ground in his wake. "Hmmm," he finally said, "Maybe bumps do count. Just not for us. And I don't mind giving them a bumpy ride." He settled into his seat, "No sir." And with that, fully understood the frustrated rage building in the minds of his competitors, and soon their investors.

And more fully understanding the difference between being fast, and being furious.

"Blade?" Hannibal King touched the sleeping warrior gently on the shoulder, "Wake up, dude."

Blade raised one eyebrow, then slowly opened his left eye. Unafraid of the day or night, the warrior moved his hand ever so slightly to verify the presence of his sword. King could see the taughtness of Blade's shoulder sinews as he slowly shifted his weight on the pallet.

"This has better be good," Blade rasped, "I was in the middle of a dream. Kickin' bloodsucker tail," he wiped his hand over his face as though it would wipe away the sleep from his eyes, or the fatigue in his body, but it did neither.

"We have some news," King said with a low voice, "The upgrades have arrived."

Blade's other eye slowly opened, "Oh?"

"Yeah," King laughed, "You're gonna like it."

"I'll be there in five," Blade said, half of him wanting to roll over and sleep, and half of him curious about the upgrades. Blade always had a half-and-half approach to life. The bloodsuckers hated him for it.

A number of minutes later, the warrior strolled slowly into the main atrium of his personal lair, only to find it strewn with boxes, styrofoam and bubble wrap, "What's all this mess?" he rasped.

King appeared from behind one of the largest boxes, a vertical package over eight feet tall, holding a swatch of bubble wrap, "Don't you just love this stuff?" he quipped, violently popping several dozen bubbles with vigorous manipulation.

"Stop that!" Blade commanded, ever-despising King's cheeky nature, "Tell me what all this is."

"All this," King pointed to a far wall where the apparatus had been installed, "is just for you. At your service."

"Blade servers, eh?" Blade took two short steps toward the machines, "What does it do?"

"Only slices, dices and makes Julie-Anne cry!" King cackled.

Blade was not amused.

"Okay, seriously," King began, "Recall some of our - er clients - had some run-ins with the bloodsuckers? Their problems were really that they were working with too little information. Or that it was inaccurate, or not arriving in time. The BI bloodsuckers swoop in to save the day."

"I hate bloodsuckers," Blade seethed.

"Oookay, so they fell prey to the wiles of the bloodsuckers, promising a better mousetrap and all that."

"They always promise."

"Moving right along, they promise but don't deliver. Here's where we come in, and help them get on the right track."

"How do these machines do that?"

"The Blade servers include a special sauce - "

"Special sauce. Is it red?"

"Uhh, no. But it's all painted in your favorite color. The better part is that you can use this machinery during the day to find opportunities, and still let it work at night, you know, when you're - uh - out."

"Hunting bloodsuckers."

"Uhh, yeah, so let's focus here. The new server has a special acclerator that basically lights up the night."

"Is it ultra-violet light?"

"No, but it's ultra-clear light. The kind of light we need to shine on business priorities, SLAs and how to leverage the machine at the enterprise level. You know, best practices."

"I don't need any practice. When the sun goes down - "

"Okay, look," King interrupted, "The accelerator sits on the blade and does all the analytic streaming work. The server then allows for cache RAM to sit between the disk drives and the processor, so we can keep stuff in memory longer."

"I have a long memory for bloodsuckers."

"And some clients," King rolled his eyes, "May need long memory for lookup tables, oft-used dimensions and the like."

"Are you starting all that other-dimension talk again? I thought I'd made a deal with Stan that we would never introduce - "

"No, not alternative dimensions in spacetime," King smirked, "But multidimensional analysis."

"I don't follow."

"Data analysis."

"To what purpose? What are we looking for?"

King thought about the question for a moment, realizing that the answer could capture Blade's attention or lose him forever. He finally said "Bloodsuckers."

Blade's eyes flashed, "If this will help us find the bloodsuckers, why do we only have one? Why not more?"

"Now, now, we should start small and grow tall - "

"Platitudes," Blade huffed, "Time is short. Will it find the bloodsuckers or not?"

King knew that when he said bloodsuckers, he'd meant the broken processes and data that drain the lifeblood from a company, "Yes, it can help us find them."

"Good," Blade finally said, slowly strolling toward the machines. He stared at them for a long moment and finally said. "You work for me, now."

"Uhh, Blade," King said, "They can't hear you, they're machines."

Blade didn't say anything.

"Oh, and I have this," King produced a small metal plate and held it out to Blade.

The warrior turned and stared at the object, curious as to its nature. "And this?"

"Is a Final Interrogation Node," King said, "For use when you are about to dispatch a bloodsucker."

"How does it work?"

"You wrap the wrist-strap here," he applied the strap to his own wrist, holding the plate in his hand, then flicked his wrist. The plate flew to nearest stone column, remaining connected to King's wrist with a tether made of high-tensile filament. The plate sank into the stone with a dull rrrriiiiinggg. . King then flicked his wrist again and the plate dismounted, the tension in the tether returning it immediately to his open palm.

"That was fun, but what does it do, really?"

"When you're done asking questions that anyone can get answers for, the FIN takes it to the next level. And if you have one in each hand - "

"Twin Fins, very funny."

"You'll still get the answers you're looking for."

"I'll always get the answer I want eventually."

"Uhh, well, isn't that what the bloodsuckers say? Anyone can give the right answer slow. But these," he held up the FINs," Get the right answers faster than anything."

"Even faster than me?"

"Faster than Blade alone," King smiled, "Yep, even faster than a blade and all its servers. You still need the FIN's and special sauce. Bloodsuckers don't have those."

"Competitive advantage," Blade said in a low whisper, "I like it."