63 lines
2.8 KiB
Plaintext
63 lines
2.8 KiB
Plaintext
RUMOR ROOM ON LOCATION
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(In the Rumor Mill)
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<The almost deafening roar from the main blade of a busy sawmill threatens to
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drive your senses into overload as you descend the rickety ladder into..... THE
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RUMOR MILL!> Hi! My code name is Boffo and I'm pleased you could take this trip
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into my little Rumor Mill! That'll be twenty bucks. <he riffles through your
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cash> Thank you. Now, let's start with a tour of the manufacture of computer
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industry rumors, okay?
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<Boffo leads you down yet another rickety rank of rungs; the incessant whine
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of the blade grows yet a little dimmer.>
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Here we are! <You're gazing into a cavernous room in which every figure seems
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peripheral and furtive.> It's a little distracting until you get used to it, but
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this is where all the high-tech rumors are born and disseminated!
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<A paper airplane sails across your line of sight; your head twitches slightly
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as you flinch involuntarily when a trial balloon looms off to your right.>
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I know how you must feel. This place is a traffic jam of trial balloons, red
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herrings, whisper campaigns, leaks and boardroom ennui. Never mind all that --
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it's just window dressing! You want to see a rumor in-the-making?
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<Boffo leads you through the fog through a massive set of steel doors into a
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cramped office with a clean desk and a red telephone with "Jobs" scrawled in
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magic marker on the handset.>
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We have a special place in our hearts for this guy Jobs. He started it all a
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few years back by himself leaking important rumors about his former company.
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<Boffo stifles a merry belly laugh> What a crutch!
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<Ring! Ring!>
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<Boffo snaps up the phone and listens, eyes widening, to a voice on the line.>
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Thanks! <Click.> Here's one for your twenty bucks: Big Blue is going to
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re-release the PCjr with Unix to sink MS-DOS and torch Ma's combo sally!
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<Ring! Ring!> <Boffo again yanks the handset to his red left ear.>
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Huh? Uh-huh. Hmmmm. Okay. Thanks. <Click.>
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Okay, since you're here, I'll tell you another one for free: Apple's about to
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announce the McDLT -- a hybrid McIntosh with a cool-touch screen and even hotter
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capes that'll -- <suddenly a loud buzzer staccatoes; a low, wailing siren starts
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to doppler toward you>
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OMIGOSH! <Boffo heads pall-mall toward the now-closing steel doors> Let's get
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outa here!
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<Panting, chugging, you run desperately behind Boffo, avoiding few of the
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dangling cobwebs that never seem to touch Boffo, you finally run smack-dab into
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his back, nearly knocking him over. A cool envelope of unconsciousness enfolds
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you...>
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<A flickering light, far away>
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Wake up! C'mon, buddy, wake UP! <Boffo's ragtag visage slowly comes into
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focus> Tour's over! Time for you to move along! See ya' next time, okay?
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