*Koi-san lifted his head above the surface of his pond. Small wavelets scurried away across the black waters as he blinked. His mouth opened and closed and his gills flapped.

With a kneeling bow Hisako Onada acknowledged the appearance of her master, Koi-san. She stood and stepped soundlessly off the tatami. Where the pine flooring ended at the edge of the pond was a small heap of gravel and sand. In this heap was planted a cross. Crucified on the cross was a squirrel, brush-like tail curled around its stretched hind legs, paws clenched around the small nails holding it to the bamboo, mouth open, yellow teeth bared in a noiseless screech of rage. Hisako Onada bent over and poked it; it was stiff and dead. She moved her hand back to her lap and bowed apologetically. Her silk kimono whispered an echo.

"All as dead as Jim-san from Tex-ass's political career," she said softly.

Koi-san ducked his head into the water and arched his back, splashing water about, rippling the pond's surface with his displeasure. He surfaced again, eyeing her suspiciously.

She bowed. "There are other entertainments," she said and kneeled, her distorted reflection waving at her as she looked briefly into that black water. She reached behind her, pulling the laptop over to the edge of the pond. There was a breeze from the garden and the smell of spring rains did fill the atrium as she typed in the following url:

http://www.eecs.harvard.edu/~yaz/en/squirrel_fishing.html

Koi-san settled down, fins waving slowly and gently in the calm water. It was better than waiting.*