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as a matter of gravest international diplomacy. (Foolty showed me the avatar he was presenting to the South Americans and our coastal management wikis, and of course it looked nothing like the real Dog.) This time, with the weight of the whole UWA behind our complaints, we received less harsh verbal treatment from the foreigners. And our compatriots caved right away, acknowledging that they had been negligent in not protecting our waterways from shipworm incursion. When FooDog and I announced a broad range of penalties against them, the mermaid shimmered and reverted to a weepy young teenaged boy.
    But the South Americans, although polite, still refused to admit any responsibility for the Great Teredo Invasion.
    “You realize, of course,” said FooDog, “that you leave us no recourse but to initiate a trade war.”
    One of the Latinos, who was presenting as Che Guevara, sneered and said, “Do your worst. We will see who has the greater balance of trade.” He stood up and bowed to Cherry. “Madam, I am sorry these outrageous demands cannot be met. But believe me when I say I am gratified to see you well and suffering no permanent harm from your unfortunate accident.”
    Then he vanished, along with the others.
    Cherry, still un-SCURFED, had been wearing an antique pair of spex to participate in the conference. Now she doffed them and said, “Rebels are so sexy! Can’t we cut them some slack?”
    “No! It’s time to kick some arrogant Venezuelan tail!”
    “I got the list of our exports right here, nephew.”
    From the ubik, I studied the roster of products that the UWA sold to Venezuela, and picked one.
    “Okay, let’s start small. Shut off their housebots.”
    After hostilities were all over and I wasn’t head jimmywhale anymore, I had time to read up about old-fashioned trade wars. It seems the tactics used to consist of drying up the actual flow of unshipped goods between nations. But with spimed products, such in-the-future actions were dilatory, crude and unnecessary.
    Everything the UWA had ever sold to the Venezuelans became an instant weapon in our hands.
    Through the ubik, we sent commands to every UWA-manufactured Venezuelan housebot to shut down. The commands were highest override priority and unstoppable. You couldn’t isolate a spimed object from the ubik to protect it, for it would cease to function.
    Across an entire nation, every household lost its domestic cyber-servants.
    “Let’s see how they like washing their own stinking windows and emptying their own cat-litter!” I said. “They’ll probably come begging for relief within the hour.”
    FooDog had pulled up another roster, this one of products the Venezeulans sold us. “I don’t know, nephew. I think we might take a few hits first. I’m guessing.”
    Even as FooDog spoke, we learned that every hospital in the UWA had just seen its t-ray imagers go down.
    “Who the hell knew that the Venezuelans had a lock on selling us terahertz scanners?” I said.
    FooDog’s face wore a look of chagrin. “Well, actually”
    “Okay, we’ve got to ramp up. Turn off all their wind turbines.”
    All across Venezuela, atmospheric powerplants fell still and silent.
    The response from the Southerners was not long in coming. Thirty percent of the UWA’s automobiles – the Venezuelan market share – ground to a halt.
    FooDog sounded a little nervous when next he spoke. “Several adjacent countries derived electricity from the Venezuelan grid, and now they’re demanding we restore the wind turbines. They threaten to join in the trade war if we don’t comply.”
    I felt nervous too. But I was damned if I’d relent yet. “Screw them! It’s time for the big guns. Bring down their planes.”
    Made-in-the-UWA airliners around the globe running under the Venezuelan flag managed controlled descents to the nearest airports.
    That’s when the Venezuelans decided to shut down the half our oil-refining capacity which they had built for us. True, oil