As usual, Chester replied without revealing any personal information -- other than the fact that he’d once been a kid.  Sometimes Dumas wondered exactly what the magician was hiding.  Had he experienced a normal childhood, far too boring for the great and mysterious Cheshire Cat?  Or had it been so terrible that he didn’t want to remember it, much less talk about it?  Or was something else going on?  Dumas had resigned himself to the strong probability that he’d never know for sure.  But that didn’t make guessing any less interesting.<br/><br/>“Come on,” Dumas prodded.  “You’ve got to give me something.  If you won’t reveal your birth date, at least tell me your favorite type of cake.”<br/><br/>But before Chester could answer, a new voice entered their conversation -- or, rather, the same voice with somewhat different inflections.  Dumas nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized that DEE had materialized its holographic avatar behind his chair.  He’d assumed that the security system would sulk all night.<br/><br/>“I bet that I could do it,” DEE challenged, looking straight at the purple cat.  If a human’s eyes were the windows to their soul, what inner landscape did a hologram’s eyes reveal?  “If I tried, I bet that I could discover your birthday.”