"O.K.," Scott acquiesced. "I'm here to play Devil's Advocate, not make a continent of enemies."
"Listen, you better learn something early on," Spook leaned in over the table. His seriousness caught Scott's attention. "You can disagree with us all you want, that's not a problem, most everyone does. But, we do expect fairness, personal and profes- sional."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning," the dimples in Spook's smiling cheeks radiated cama- raderie. "Don't give up on an argument so early if you believe in it. That's a chicken shit way out of taking a position. Real kindergarten." The Spook finished off his Heineken in two gulps.
Scott's tension eased realizing the Spook wanted the debate, the confrontation. This week could be a lot more fun than he had thought.
"At any rate, can you buy into that, that the traffic systems are alive?" The Spook asked again.
"I'll hold my final judgment in abeyance, but for sake of discus- sion, let's continue," acquiesced Scott.
"Fair enough. In 1947, I think that was the year, some guy said that he doubted there would be world wide market for more than three computers."
Scott choked on his beer. "Three? Ha! What mental moron came up with that?"
"Watson. Thomas Watson, founder of IBM," the Spook said dead pan.