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rock, robot or not, would be worth killing for?
    She desperately wanted to warn the company, put them on the alert but her history of unfortunate episodes reminded her not to make a move until she had every bit of information she could get. She pulled up her telephone directory on her computer, picked up the phone and dialed Chad Richardson’s number. Here was someone who didn’t think she was a nut and who she was sure could help her decipher all the information she’d gathered.
    At their chance meeting in a bookstore Mia had been stunned to learn that Chad, an engineer, would be interested in something so diametrically opposed to the field he was in. They’d gone for coffee that night and many times afterwards. It was a totally asexual friendship. Mia felt comfortable enough with him to confide in him about her precognition, knowing he wouldn’t look at her as if she was a freak.
    She could probe his mind on this new vision. Maybe he could even give her some clues as to the meaning of the vision. A long shot but…maybe.
    “So,” she said, pleasantries disposed of, “can I interest you in a margarita on the Riverwalk tonight? I know it’s Friday but if you can get away early enough we can meet at Casa Rio by four.”
    “Is this a ‘Gee, Chad, I was just thinking how great it would be to have a drink with you’ call or a ‘Hey, Chad, can I ply you with alcohol and pick your brain’ invitation?” Mia’s laugh was nervous. “A little bit of both. Are you on?”
    “Of course. I’m always interested to see why my favorite psychic needs me.” Her hand tightened on the phone. “I wish you wouldn’t do that, Chad. You know how I feel about it.”
    His voice sobered. “I’m sorry. But remember, I’m one of the few who has ultimate faith in your abilities.”
    “And I thank you for that. So. Four o’clock?”
    “See you then.”
    * * * * *
    Any day of the week the famous Riverwalk, the top tourist attraction in Texas, was crowded with an eclectic mixture of tourists and locals, sightseers and shoppers. The stone walkways on either side of the narrow, meandering San Antonio River passed in front of a colorful assortment of shops and restaurants and were always wall-to-wall people. On the weekends the crowds multiplied exponentially.
    At Casa Rio Mia was lucky enough to snag the last empty table outside, under one of the trademark colorful umbrellas. She had deliberately chosen the meeting place for the noise factor. Here, with people chatting all around them, shouting back and forth, mariachi music punctuating the babble, her conversation with Chad would be difficult for anyone to overhear. The waitress brought the customary hot tortilla chips and took her drink order.
    He arrived minutes after she did, looking as always slightly disheveled and windblown and gave her the obligatory hug and peck on the cheek. He made short work of the margarita she had waiting for him, ordered a second and sat back in his chair.
    “Okay. Let’s have it. You look like you’re sitting on hot coals.” Mia knew she didn’t have to play games with Chad. He understood her, believed in her precognitive powers and she’d known him long enough to trust him. To be able to speak freely with him.
    “Here’s what it is,” she said and told him about her latest “episodes”. “I’ve done all the research I can but I can’t identify what this dumb rock is or understand the information I found on robotics. I’m hoping that’s where you can help. I’d also like your take on Carpenter Techtronics.”
    “Okay, kiddo, I’m happy to do what I can,” he told her. “But you know I’ve done a lot of studying on your abilities since we met and we’ve discussed it. Precognitive visions aren’t always specific. You’re getting a glimpse of a future event but because the visions are usually in bits and pieces they can be difficult to understand.”
    “I know, I know. ‘If precognition is a glimpse of the true or real future,