You know how it is. You stay up late at night, trying to find the patterns and make the connections. You are constantly refreshing a half-dozen Q-related web pages, You have massive layers of text files open on your desktop, and your War Room is littered with Post-It Notes as if the walls of your house have bred a strange yellow dandruff,

You hear a tread upon the stairs! A dreadful feeling overcomes you. Your wife approaches...

Why are you not in bed? she says. It is six-o-goddamned clock in the morning!

You pause briefly, concerned, before you reply.

*Wars are not like trains, Ma'am. They do not run on schedules."