Every time the Wabbit visited, Hardhack has a new configuration. Where the cash for all this came from was a mystery and few dared ask. The air smelled of electricity and plastic. A multitude of fans whirred. Hardhack came scampering out from a back room and he was excited. "Is that it?" he yelled. "It's a long time since I've seen one." Lapinette wrinkled her nose. "I think it's 1992." Hardhack sniffed it long and hard. "No vinegar, no mouldy socks. No cow on the ice." Lapinette pointed. "Kin you play it?" Hardhack looked at the label. "PAL or SEECAM?" "Both," smiled the Wabbit. Hardhack took hold of the tape. "Careful," said the Wabbit, "Politis protocols are active." Hardhack fingered it gently and hummed to himself. "Can you extract and make safe the encoded information?" asked the Wabbit. "If I can't, no-one can." Hardhack smirked. "I have to bake it in a furnace." He disappeared into a back room. Lapinette knew all about this. "Essential," she said. "He can make us a flan at the same time," said the Wabbit. "No-one thinks you're funny," snapped Lapinette. They waited. Hardhack re-appeared. "Into the Light, a film by Kenneth Shanks?" Hardhack strolled up and down. "There's digital encoding. Finicky." The Wabbit nodded. Lapinette scowled. "A flickering chequerboard on the very edge of the video tape. I'm downloading it to my computer array's binary buffer." Hardhack waited for applause but didn't get any. "Now give me the digital coordinates," snapped the Wabbit.
