Itty elbowed Baby sharply in his side.
“Kidding,” he said, rubbing the insult. “I can see by the look on your face you still have some questions, Paulie, and we’ve got some time before arrival. “What’s grindin’ on ya?”
“Yes, that just so happens that is true. What’s the flooring made of again?”
The three of them just stared at him. “Oh,” said Baby. “Yer serious. Alright. It’s called plastiform, right? That’s common enough knowledge. It’s extremely malleable when exposed to the right combination of electromagnetic frequencies, which are scrambled on a daily basis by Tubewerx Central in what I can only believe to be some sort of attempt at keeping people from doing what we’re doing now. Plastiform’s the stuff that let’s buildings grow and take shape in the biz district, right? You saw how big Taste! is now, correct? Well, it just doesn’t stop there. The whole of the tubewerx is malleable as well. Partitions of the plastiform slowly move into position, allowing tube capsules to zip through in peristaltic motion.”
Paul called up Daemon Joe, his banker.
"Joe here, how can i help you paul?" Joe's image was an avatar of an electric star in a pinstripe suit and silk tie. It bobbed around the trex's screen like an animate bowl of gelatin. Pulsating music was in the background. The interface simply screamed bountiful credits.
"Joe, my food supply has gone to dust. What's the story?"
"Seems here, Paul, that you aren't budgeting too well. My advice: don't live beyond your means."