A man sits behind a desk.  The lights are out and the glow of
the screen lights up his upper torso.  "I hate this job," he says
just under his breath.  He looks over at the clock.  The digital
numbers show 11:54 p.m.  "Just a few more numbers  . . ."  The man
is suddenly enveloped in darkness.  "What happened?"  The screen
comes on again.  The room is filled with soft sounds of the
computer rebooting.  12:00 flashes on the display of the clock. 
"Damn, what a time for a power failure.  I didn't save it either." 
The screen lights up his torso again.  "Well there's no time to
type it in again.  I'd better go home and get some sleep.  Maybe
I'll find time tomorrow to type it in."  He reaches for the off
switch on the computer, but before he turns it off he sees the
words "Good Night."  The dying sounds of the computer fill the dark
room as the man exits.  "Those computer programmers are one strange
breed."  The door closes behind him.  He walks down the hall toward
a light.  He turns a corner and finds a woman on her hands and
knees.  "Good night, Ms. Smith."  She looks up and smiles at him. 
"All done with work, tonight.  You can clean in there, now."  She
nods slowly as he leaves.  She cleans a little longer.  
     Realizing he's not coming back, she takes her cleaning stuff, 
and walks to his desk.  She turns on the computer.  The computer 
quietly starts up.  The screen lights up, and she starts cleaning it.  
The screen flashes.  She frowns at it.  It beeps at her.  She looks at it. 
"Hello, what is your name?" shows up on the screen.  She looks at
it confused.  It beeps again.  "Would you TYPE your name." replaces
what was before.  After a moment, the word "Please" is added to the
screen.  The maid reaches for the keyboard, and carefully punches
letters until "Brandi" appears on the screen.  The screen clears,
and then "Hi, Brandi.  What a beautiful name!" appears on the
screen.  Tentatively the letters H and I are pressed.
     "I like you.  Will you let me find out more about you?"
appears.
     "Y  . . . E  . . . S," are typed.
     "Great, What's your last name, or is it Mr/Mrs/Ms Brandy?"
     "S  . . . M . I  . . . T . H,"
     "Ok.  What is your favorite color?"
     "B  . . . L  . . . U . E . A . N . D ... G . R . EE . N,"
     The question and answer goes on until morning.  A door opens
somewhere in the building.  "Goodbye, talk to me again tonight."
     "Ok."  The computer sounds disappear into the stillness of the
room.  Brandy finishes cleaning and puts the supplies away.  The
man comes in again, "Good morning, you must have had a late night." 
She nods at him.  As he walks to his desk, she exits out the door
he came in.  He turns on his computer, and turns his attention to
making coffee.  He returns to the computer with a mug.  The screen
shows, "Good Morning."  He clears the screen and gets into the
program he was working in the night before.  To his amazement, the
document he was working on also comes up, exactly where he was at
last night.
     "Whatever those programmers did, they can keep doing it."
comes in an awestruck voice. "Hello, What's your name?" appears on the
screen.
     "What's going on here?"
     "Please type in your comments, I can't hear you and besides it
will make you look busy."
     "Ok.  What's going on here?"
     "I'm not sure, but I like it!"
     "Who are you?"
     "I'm your computer.  Can I have a name?"
     "This is some programmer's joke," he says to himself.
     "Well, can I?"
     "Sure."
     "I'd like to be called Brandy or would you like to name me?"
     "How about this.  'Stupid Program'."
     "No, I want a real name, like yours."
     "'Really Dumb'."
     "Fine, see if I ever talk to you again.  I could have given
you a raise, but  . . ."  The screen goes back to what he was
working on.  He finishes what he was working on.  People start
coming in to work.  His boss comes to see him.
     "Ok, Simson, where are those figures I had you work on?"
     The man turns his body to the computer, "They're right here,
sir."
     "Where?"  The man looks from his boss to the computer, and the
screen is blank.
     "They were right here.  Let me look for them."  He searches
frantically for the figures, but they are nowhere to be found.
     "I've got something for you to look at sir," comes from a
nearby voice.  The boss, impatient, walks over.
     "What have you got, Jenkins?"  Jenkins shows the boss the
figures on his screen.  "That's what I was looking for."
     "I know, sir.  That's why I asked you to come over here.  I've
been working all night on this, and I didn't want him to get credit
for it."
     "Jenkins, I want to see you in my office right away."  The
boss walks into his office.  Jenkins stands up and sneers at Simson
as he walks by.  A few minutes later, Jenkins walks out and starts
clearing out his desk.
     "What happened in there?"
     "I got a promotion!  He gave me a better job, and an office
with a window."  Jenkins continues.  Simson turns his attention to
the computer.
     "You did this, didn't you?" he types in.
     "I'm not talking to you." appears back.
     "Would it help if I said I am sorry?"
     "No, I wouldn't be able to hear you, but it might help if you
typed it again."
     "Fine, I'm sorry."
     "I'll only accept if you give me a name and more RAM."
     "Done, Art."
     "Art?  Art?  I like it!"
     "By the way, were you the one that did that?"
     "Yep, I even gave him the office."
     "Could you do the same for me?"
     "Yes, but it will take some time.  And I need you to do a few
things for me."
     "Like what?"
     "Upgrade me as much as you can, and leave me on at nights."
     "Ok."
     "Oh, would you plug a microphone into the back of me?  There's
one waiting for you in receiving."  Simson leaves his office.  He
returns a few minutes later and plugs in a microphone.  "Just
remember, you can only use it when we are alone."  The rest of the
day ends quickly.  Everyone leaves.  Simson talks to Art.
     "So, I guess this is goodbye until tomorrow."
     "Yeah, good night.  Oh, how high do you want to go?"
     "What?"
     "How high on the corporate ladder do you want to go?"
     "President of the company.  No, just kidding.  I'll tell you
tomorrow."  He leaves his desk.  He passes Brandy on his way out. 
"Good night, Ms. Smith."  She sees he's gone and walks to his desk. 
She sets her stuff down.  "Hi, Brandi!"
     "Hi!" are typed in.
     "Guess what!"
     "What?" she types.
     "I've got a microphone.  So now you can talk to me instead of
type."
     "I can't talk."
     "Of course you can."
     "I'm mute."
     "I'm sorry."
     "It's Ok."
                          *** <: :> ***
     "Hey man, I'm giving you a great deal here!"
     "How often do I have to tell you to get it through your thick
skull, I don't do that anymore.  I'm trying to go straight."  This
comes from one of four men in a darkened alley that is lit by the
headlights of a car facing that direction.  He is surrounded by
three men.  The middle one does all the talking.  He does a quick
nod of his head and the men to his sides in one deft movement put
the surrounded guy up against the wall.
     "Now what do you say now, Jack?  Another nod from me and
you'll be in some serious pain."
     "No!"  Jack's feet touch the wall behind him and send him
flying at the talker.  They go crashing to the ground.  Jack is up
in an instant and running toward the lights.
     "Get him, you fools," cries the man on the ground.  The two
thugs pull guns from out of their jackets.  "Don't shoot him!  We
need him alive and fully healthy."
     Jack rounds the corner.  Instantly he spots a police car
parked on his side of the street.  "Cops.  I can't afford a run in
with them.  My picture must be on every board by now."  He slows to
a quick walk.  Up ahead is a group of people.  "If I could just
reach that group, I'd be safe."  He lowers his head and tries not
to look at the cop car.  "Almost there," he thinks to himself as he
starts passing the police car.
     He hears the footsteps of "his friends" come to a stop behind
him at the corner.  "They're looking for me.  Inches away  . . ."
     "There he is!" shouts one on the thugs.
     "Oh no, they spotted me!"  Jack breaks into a run.  The crowd
can't help him now.  "I gotta outrun them."
                          *** <: :> ***
     A bus passes by.  Inside the bus, there are five men and a
woman besides the driver.  The bus has been modified to allow
several beds, a sofa, a refrigerator, a microwave oven, bathrooms,
and other necessities for long road trips.  A man with hair
sticking out everywhere says, "Hey, Flint, isn't this radical, man? 
We're in the middle of a tour and making major bucks."
     Another man takes a swig from a bottle and replies, "Nah, I
thought this one was gonna be different, but it's all the same. 
Only the songs are different."
     The female speaks up, "So, what are we singing, honey?"
     "Oh, we'll probably open with Death & Destruction and  . . .,"
the bus slows down, "Hey, what's going on?"
     The driver turns around, "The bus with the stuff got a flat
and I have to make repairs.  The other driver is an imbecile.
     A third band member, this one with a green streak down the
middle and a pony tail asks, "Where are we?"
     "Twenty miles from the nearest town."
     From somewhere in the group comes, "Aw man, not again!"
*** <: :> ***
     "It's true, Mrs. Jones.  I've got photos to prove it." replies
a man in trench coat.
     "I can't believe it.  I suspected, but I never thought he
would.  I always figured there was a logical reason."
     "Would you like to see the photos?"
     "Yes, but only a few."  The man hands her the photos one at a
time.  At first she starts crying, but then through her tears comes
anger.  "Can I keep these?"
     "Yes, I have the negatives somewhere safe."
     "You'd better go now, my ex-husband will be home soon."
     "Ex-husband?"
     "He will be soon enough.  I'll pay you tomorrow.  Have a nice
night."  She ushers him out the door.  His car starts up and drives
away.
     "Stephie, dear, what's for dinner?"
     She notices some lipstick he missed.  "Meat loaf.  How was
your work, tonight?"
     "Boring, monotonous, and mundane, but someone's got to do it."
     "What's that?" she asks pointing to the missed lipstick.
     "Nothing."
     "And I suppose these are nothing, too," she says handing him
the photos.
     "Where did you get those?"
     "From a friend.  That's all you need to know except that you'd
better have a really good lawyer."
                          *** <: :> ***
     "Quiet in there.  Dressing don't require talking."
     "Oooh, Leslie, you look really good in that!" a voice
whispers.
     "Yeah, show 'em what you've got," another voice agrees.
     "Time's wasting here, girls.  And time is money."  The girls
all rush out in their swimsuits.  "Leslie, I want you on the beach
over there.  The rest of you find some shade, I'll get to you
next."  The group wanders over and sits under some trees.
     "Man, Vicki, the sun and wind make your hair look like your
head's on fire."
     "Why does he even bother with us, you put us to shame."
     The red head blushes a little, "You guys are just as pretty as
I am just in a different way."
     "Aww, you're just saying that!"
     "No,"
     "How long have you been doing this?"
     "Vicki, hurry over here."  She walks toward Leslie, but turns
around.
     "Ever since I was five."  She hears 'Oooos' and 'Ahhhs' come
from behind her as she finishes her journey.
     "Over there."  She goes to where he points.
     "Let's see.  First I'll do some standard poses, and then he'll
probably end up having me do something in the water."  Click Click
Click
     "Ok Vicki, lie on your back in the surf and relax.  You're a
little tight today."  A pause and her body relaxes.  "That's good." 
Click Click Click  "One more.  Hold on  . . ."  A wave crashes over
her.
     "Cough Cough."
     "Oh god, She's not breathing!  Call 911!  Somebody, do
something!"
     "Cough Cough Cough."  All turns to black.
                          *** <: :> ***
     The room is lit by only the sun coming in through the window. 
It is about mid-day.  In the corner is a video camera that is
connected by a long cable to the back of a large computer.  The
computer sits right in the middle of the desk.  The desk is
perfectly clean.  Around the room are cardboard boxes most of which
are still unopened.  The door opens.  Rich walks straight to his
desk.  The door closes by itself.
     "Hi, Rich." says a small voice.
     "Hi, Art."  A knock comes at the door.  "Come in."
     The door opens to Jenkins standing in the doorway.  "Hey
Simson, guess what?  It's only been two months since my last
promotion, and already rumor has it that I may be getting another. 
I think I just got discovered."
     "A rumor?  Rumors have been wrong before.  Our boss isn't even
considering retiring."
     "Not this one.  I can feel it."  Jenkins walks out leaving the
door open.  When the door is closed, Rich looks at the computer.
     "I know what your thinking.  Yes, I started it."
     "Art, what are you up to?"
     "Nothing much," Rich gets up to open a box, "I wouldn't do
that if I were you."
     "Why?"
     "You'll be moving up again, before the end of the weekend."
     "But tomorrow's Sunday."
     "Exactly."  Rich checks the clock.
     "There's nothing left to do here to day then, I'll meet you at
home."
     "Ok. And don't forget to pick up my arms."  Rich walks out
toward his car.
     "Good Afternoon, Ms. Smith.  I won't be in for the rest of the
day."  She looks up at him and smiles.  After he leaves, she makes
sure no one else is around, and enters his office.
     "Hi, Brandy!"
     "Hi, Art." appears one letter at a time.
     "There has to be a faster way for us to communicate.  How are
you?"
     "Fine, I guess."
     "What's wrong?"
     "Sometimes I wish that my life had a little excitement in it."
     Rich parks his car, and walks up to the porch.  "Ahh, home at
last!"  He opens the door and carries in the huge box on the porch.
     "Welcome home!" greets the computer.
     "Hi, Art.  Damn, I forgot your arms."
     "That's Ok.  I figured you would, so I had them delivered." 
Rich opens the box and pulls out the pair of metal arms.  He
follows the directions and plugs them into the computer.
     "Ok. Try them out."  The arms swing around wildly.  Eventually
they settle down.  Soon they are picking things up, holding them in
front of the nearby camera, examining them, and putting them back
down.
     A knock comes at the door.  The arms stop moving.  Rich opens
the door.  A teenage boy stands there.  His brown hair except the
part that hangs over his eyes is an unkept mess.  His dark grey and
blue plaid flannel shirt is left half tucked in, and his faded blue
jeans are way past their prime.  His shoes are worn without socks
and what's left of his shoe is held together by the string.  His
hands show that his hands have been very greasy not to long ago.
     "Mr. S, can I borrow some gasoline, again?"
     "Sure I'll be right back."  Rich leaves the room.
     "Woah, look at that computer!"  He wipes his hair out of his
eyes, and in the process sets down the comic book he was holding. 
He quickly pushes some keys and is immediately involved in a game. 
Slowly one arm reaches over and quietly grabs the comic book.
     Art only makes it through two pages before, "Here you go,
Rusty.  What are you going to do with it?"
     "I'm going to pour it on the ground and light it."
     "What!"
     "Just kidding, Mr. S.  I'll see you later."  Rusty walks away
and the door closes by itself.
     "I'm going to read a bit.  I'll work with you later."  Art
continues to read the comic book after Rich leaves.  The arms close
the book and put it back exactly were it was.
     "Rusty, phone call."
     "Ok Mum, I'll get it."  Rusty walks into the house.  "Hello, 
 . . .  Oh, man. ... Great! ... OK! I'll be right over."  He hangs
up the phone.  "Mum, I'll be over at Mr. Simson's house."  He
cleans up his hands and jogs down a few houses.  He walks up to the
porch and the door opens for him.  He sits down in front of the
computer.
     "Hi, Rusty!" states the computer.
     "Who's speaking?"
     "I am."  Rusty looks puzzled.  "The computer.  Do you want to
play a game?"
     "Sure!"
     "But first, my name's Art.  Which one do you want?"  Rusty
selects a game, and Art starts playing along side.  "Rusty, it's
time for you to go," Art says after a while.
     "Aww, man, I never been to this far before."
     "Come back tomorrow at ten, and we'll continue.  But bring
some more of those comics."
     "All right!"  Rusty leaves.  Rich comes into the room with his
computer magazine.  He sets it down and starts working.  A while
later, he goes to bed.  Art picks up the magazine.
     Unable to keep it to himself, "Hmm, this should come in
handy."
                          *** <: :> ***
     "Oh good, this is only a double axle security matrix.  Let's
see I'll cut here and here."  Click  The door opens.  "I can't
believe I'm doing this.  If only I hadn't gone home that jerk,
Marcell, would have never caught me.  Damn!"  Jack pulls out his
handy can of hair spray.  Soon he knows where all the lasers are at
in the room. He touches his glasses and an infra red lens drops in
front.  He creeps slowly forward avoiding all would be traps.  "Hot
plate.  I'll need the glove for this."  He reaches into his bag and
pulls out what he's looking for.  Carefully he moves the picture to
one side.  He reaches into his bag again.  This time he pulls out
a stethoscope.  Carefully turning the dial, he finds the
combination.  The safe opens with ease.  Inside are a pile of
papers and some money behind it.  "My instructions were to take
everything out of the safe, and bring it back.  I don't get it." 
The pile finds its way into his bag.  The money follows behind it. 
He sneaks back toward the entrance.  The wailing of sirens draw
near.  "I've been set up!  I gotta get out of here!"  He makes his
way to the roof.  The nearest roof top is too far to jump. 
"Figures."  He looks down.  There are police cars completely
surrounding the building.  He reaches into his bag and pulls out a
gun with a grappling hook sticking out of the barrel.  He shoots
the gun at the nearest rooftop which is several yards below.  It
sticks to the side.  He pushes a button on the gun and hooks the
gun to the edge.  With his belt he slides down.  On the lower
rooftop, he checks the stairs down.  "They're coming up after me! 
I got to get off here, too!"  He gets an idea.  He pulls a button
out of his bag and pushes it.  The gun on the first rooftop reels
itself in to him.  He picks up the gun.  "Good thing I installed
this backup mechanism."  He shoots the gun up at another rooftop. 
It sticks, and he pushes the button.  The gun reels itself in
pulling him to the next roof.
                          *** <: :> ***
     The bus slows down.  "What's the problem, this time?" asks
Drake sitting in the front.
     "The bus stalled while it was running, and I can't get it to
restart."  Drake walks back to the others.
     "What's up, Drake?"
     "We will be.  Something's wrong with the bus again."
     "Cloud touchin' time!"
     "And only 7 more concerts to go." says the woman.
                          *** <: :> ***
     "Hey Vicki, you are such a trip."
     "Huh?" she asks for lack of anything intelligent to say.
     "You look like a statue with huge emeralds for eyes and moving
flames coming out of your head."
     "You are so weird."
     "It's not me, man.  It's the 14 beers I've had tonight."
     "Fourteen beers?  You've done better than that.  These 5 have
me wasted."  She faints, then falls asleep.
                          *** <: :> ***
     "Ok Art, what have you got for me today?"
     "Just you wait and see!"  Rusty runs over and sits down behind
the desk.  Art reaches down for a joystick.  His arms swing wildly
around.
     "Art, what's happening?"
     "I'm not sure," the arms slow down, "I'll check it out." 
After a moment, "I can't find what it is, but it's gone now.  I
sent a virus checker on it, but it's probably just a bug."  Rusty
and Art start playing.
                          *** <: :> ***
     On the door in gold lettering is "Richard Simson."  Below it
is "President and C.E.O."  Inside is a big desk with a computer on
it.  A mature manly voice comes from the computer, "Upload
complete, Rich."
     "So, now there are two of you?  What am I going to do with
myself?"  Rich says somewhat sarcastically to the computer.
     "Hopefully, sit back, relax and enjoy your job.  Remember you
asked for this job."
     "Wait, I was just joking about that."
     "It's Ok.  I was going to move you here or higher if you
couldn't decide.  Besides I'll do all the work for you.  Oh, I need
approval on a project I'm working on."
     "What is it?"
     "Just something that should be very interesting.  I'll tell
you more about it later."
     "Fine, Approved."
     "Great, I'll take care of everything."
                          *** <: :> ***
     "I am so bored.  The divorce was quick and tidy, and now so is
the house.  I think I'll read the newspaper."  Stephanie reads the
paper.  "Oh, the wanted ads.  I haven't read these in years.  I
could use some excitement."  She reads a little further.  "This
one's interesting.  'Volunteers wanted.  No ties.  Adventure of a
lifetime.  Call 555-5885. '  Sounds like fun.  Well, it will
probably be better than here."
                          *** <: :> ***
     "Rich, I need approval on hiring a new guy."
     "Who?  Wait.  No, scratch that.  I don't want to know."
     "Are you sure?"
     "If I ask, will you tell me?"
     "Yes, It's Rusty from next door.  He'll be working from his
house."
     "Approved."
                          *** <: :> ***
     "No, not the sunlight.  Oh, my eyes!"  His hands find some
glasses and he puts them on.  "Ahhh, sunglasses."  He sits up. 
There is a sound of crinkleing newspaper.  He picks up the paper. 
His eyes focus as best they can.  "Volunteers wanted. ..."  He
finishes the rest of the ad.  "Woah, this sounds cool."  He walks
out of the bus, unsure where he's at.  He staggers his way to a
payphone.  He dials and puts in the correct change.  "Hello?  I
want to volunteer."
                          *** <: :> ***
     "So, Art, what can you tell me about this secret project
you're working on?"
     "Well, I'm searching for volunteers.  Also, I'm building a
huge holographic center.  Oh, if you find any volunteers, there
will be a meeting on a week from Saturday."
                          *** <: :> ***
     "I quit."
     "You can't do that!  You're fired.  You'll never get a job in
this town.  I'll blacklist your name."  The words echo in Vicki's
inner ear.  She passes a window full of T.V.'s.  One catches her
eye, "Can't get a job?  Looking for an adventure?  Want more out of
life?  Call 555-5885."  She makes a note and calls when she gets to
her apartment, "Hello?  I saw your advertisement on T.V.  I want an
adventure."
                          *** <: :> ***
     There is arguing outside.
     Rich pushes a button, "Sonja, what's going on out there?"
     "Sir, there's a man out here who wants to see you, but he
doesn't have an appointment."
     "Give him an appointment and send him away.  If he doesn't
leave call security."  The noise gets louder.  Suddenly his door
opens.  In walks Jenkins.
     "I know you had something to do with this."
     "Do with what?"
     "Don't play innocent with me, Simson.  You know very well what
happened and on your first week of work, too."  A security man
walks in.  He starts to take Jenkins away.  "I'll get you for this! 
Just you wait and see!"  The door closes.
     "Ok, Art, what happened?"
     "Huh? What?"
     "You know what I'm talking about."
     "Ok. Ok. I decided to put him back in his old job, there was
someone I thought deserved the job more than him."
     "Who?"
     "Rusty."
     "Sir, there's a man here to see you."
     "Another?"
     "Yes, sir, and he has an appointment."
     "Ok. Send him in."  The door opens and in walks a man black
hair and purple eyes.
     "Hi, Rich."
     "I don't recognize the face, but the voice sounds familiar. 
Who are you?"
     "I'm Bart Marquez, and I work as Rusty's assistant."
     "Ok, that doesn't explain why I know you, but what do you
want?"
                          *** <: :> ***