“Seriously? What job function needs that much power?” Five tilted his head, then shrugged. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter, you’re stuck here like the rest of us. But if you’ve got all the knowledge in the universe... did killing the butcher work? I kind of blew up the Commission before finding out.” The math had been so perfect. Kill the butcher so his disgusting filthy son took over the shop, thus providing tainted meat, thus rendering the Hindenburg pilot too sick to fly, thus delaying the flight until it would have to go through an electrical storm and BOOM. History preserved. But math was for shit if some bonehead couldn’t figure out ‘pull trigger’.