627 lines
21 KiB
Plaintext
627 lines
21 KiB
Plaintext
From the creators of Star Trek, the Next Regurgitation... From the mind
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that spawned an argument simulator... There comes...
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S I X M E N A N D A B A N A N A
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---------------------------------------
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-----------------------
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-------
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A NEW THUMPING GOOD TRANSDIMENSIONAL, TIME TRAVELLING, PASTIE EATING,
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LEMMING FLATTENING, NETWORK CRASHING, CRAMP INDUCING TEXTFILE BASED ON A
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FEW KEYBOARD FREEKED LUNATICS AND... A BANANA
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It`s one- thirty- PM, which is quite a coincidence because the story
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starts in room D-130 at the Henley College. D-130, by the by, is the
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computer room, as borne out by the sign on the wall, which reads:
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HACKERS HAVE DENS
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GRAPHIC ARTISTS HAVE LAIRS
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SYSOPS HAVE DOMAINS!!
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---------------------
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In the Room, Steve "The Mad Hippo And Part- Time Local Gravitational
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Anomaly" Lake is working on a Silly C Program. Bog "Conifer Tree"
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Hennessy-Barrett is working on a silly picture involving lemmings, vaseline
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and Yaks. There are assorted nonentities doing relatively unimportant
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things with the various Psuedocomputers scattered around.
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Steve is having a problem with his current proglet...
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STEVE: BUGGER!
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Steve is a fun, fun fellow. Almost totally silly, with an eternally happy
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outlook on life, until he gets angry, he is most renouned for being able to
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catch buses. Literally. This phenomenon is due, in most part, to his
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ability to generate an instant 6000 metres per second squared acceleration
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in any direction. Given enough Coke and sugar, that is. His other talents
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include squashing things, and making totally logical constructs do totally
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illogical things. He is, in short, the ultimate Amiga owner that Evolution
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could possibly have produced.
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BOG: Problem?
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Bog is... Bog. Too tall for most shoes, too longhaired for most glasses,
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too violent for most vending machines, Bog`s primary method for expressing
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himself is to strafe the object in question, and bayonetting people with
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Hypothetical Bayonets. Bog`s most spectacular ability is the capacity for
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taking a mundane, menial task, and turning it into an excuse for not doing
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anything more like work. This minor failing is made up by the fact that
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when it comes to boring tasks (EG, maths or boring parts of Physics
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(Equations, but not detonations), he has a head like a sponge. As a
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further peep into his Psych Profile, he is lemming- obsessed and F-16
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posessed. Another Amiga Phreeeek, his pet love is insulting PC owners.
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STEVE: MY BLOODY PROGRAM ISN`T WORKING!
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Now, Steve makes a critical error. He stamps his foot in frustration. The
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building quakes, and windows shatter. A mousepointer is jolted clear off
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one screen and lands on the desk with a sound like a winded lemming. On
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the other side of the globe, six million chinese people are bounced into
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orbit.
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Just at that moment, in should walk Nick Hatton. Most people call him
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Nick, but his freinds call him Nik. Y`see, he doesn`t like the "S" sound
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in the middle, to rhyme with Disk. That`s the sort of person Nik knows.
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The really odd thing about him is the flight path ladder and gunsight
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etched on his specs. And the fact that he gets contrails off his knuckles.
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The current totally, utterly, unutterably odd thing about him is the fact
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that he`s covered with fine white plaster dust.
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NIK: Steve, is there a problem?
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STEVE: How did you know?
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NIK: Well, Bob (The lekkytronical teach) just got brained by a lump of
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combo readybrek/ plaster, and everything`s covered in fine white dust
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downstairs, plus the fact that six million chinese people are now orbital
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sushi.
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STEVE: Ah. So that`s how you could tell. I`m having trouble with my C.
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BOG: What, does it keep stock still, and the beach washes up and down?
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Everybody throws large, hefty objects at Bog, who ducks, allowing it all to
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hit The Kevin which just at that Most Opportune moment entered.
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THE KEVIN: Aaaaaaooooowwww. Ha ha ha. Good joke everybody!
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Sadly, Kevin U. Palmer (The "U" standing for "Uuuuhhh....") is under the
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delusion that everyone likes him, and just pretends to want to kill him.
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However, if you swapped the operative words in the above sentence, (Like
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and Kill), you would arrive at the truth. Another home truth is that if
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you know The Kevin, you will already mentally have done this, and also
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substitude the word "Sadly" for the word "Hilariously".
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Nik examines Steve`s sourcecode.
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NIK: Oh, no wonder!!!!
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STEVE: What is it?
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NIK: You`ve written this like we were taught to! That`s why it`s not
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working! If you just do the reverse of what Graham said, you`ll be
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allright!
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STEVE: Okie dokie, matey.
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BOG: (Aside to Camera): Now the real reason that Steve`s program doesn`t
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work, is because it was written on an IBM clone. If it had been written on
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an Amiga... YOW!!!
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Nik wipes the blood off of a suddenly- dented keyboard and carries on
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talking to Steve.
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NIK: Dead simple. Just pretend that you know precicely nothing about C
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programming.
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STEVE: Uhhhhhhh.... OK.
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Steve whips out his Big Silver Roar Gun and riddles the monitor and CPU
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box with hypothetical bullets/ rockets/ Lemmings squeaking "Fire" and
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napalm.
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NIK: Perfect! It`ll work now!
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Lo and behold, the screen goes blank, and a banana drawn in ANSI graphics
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appears.
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BOG: Now, if you`d handdrawn that in DPaint 4 on an
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Amigaaaaaaghghghghghhh!
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Nik pulls a PosiDrive out from underneath Bog`s shoulderblade, wipes it on
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the carpet and reinserts it in his pocket. After some gasping, Bog manages
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to get himself upright in his seat.
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BOG: You`re just jealous.
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WHUMP! (Squidge)
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BOG: Whhaaaaaaaargggghh! Ye BASTARD!!!!!!!!
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Leaping from the chair, he takes Nik down in a tangle of mice, headphone
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cords, glasses, tape streamers and PCs. A cloud of dust obscures the
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proceedings until finally there is only one person left standing. And
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that`s Steve, who has been brassbanding "In The Mood" during the fight.
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NIK: Goaaar, that was fun.
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BOG: Can`t thank you enough, old man. Been moons since I`ve had a decent
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scrummage. Fookin` great.
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Three minutes of sorting out glasses, headphones, cables, body parts and
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assorted fractures later, the twain retire for a relaxing fag and another
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enlivening round of personal insults. The sound of grunts, clangs and
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thudding body blows reaches us from outside.
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Steve shakes his head sadly, and continues with his Banana Simulator
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program. All in all, a totally gnormal day at Henlej College. Must
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remember to change back from the Swedish kejmap. But, as our heros are
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soon to discover, even the ones I haven`t written in yet, today is not just
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your common- or- garden Collij day.
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STEVE: (Pushing buttons) Oh, my god!
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NIK & BOG (In Dolby B): What?
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STEVE: We`ve got a new server, and nothing`s wrong with the Net.
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Just as he speaks, The Kevin utters that Dread Phrase:
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THE KEVIN: Hey everybody, I`ve just done something really interesting!
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NETWORK: Dwwwwwweeeeeaaaarrrrooooooouuuuuughhhhhhh, kerthunk.
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All the monitors darken. The lighting gets dimmer, and the temperature
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drops five kelvin, but then if you had an armload of kelvins and that
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happened, you`d probably drop some of them as well.
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ALL EXCEPT THE KEVIN: !>ohshit<! (Hushed)
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THE KEVIN: Hey, wow, I didn`t expect THAT to happen!
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ALL: (Still hushed) ?>what<?
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THE KEVIN: (EXTREMELY loudly) THE NETWORK`S CRASHED!!!!!!!!!!
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ALL: (Relaxing), Oh is that all? (Etc) No quantum- level disturbances?
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No wars starting? Nobody faffing around with transmission (wince) lines?
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THE KEVOID: Naaahhhh don`t be silly. Nothing like that ever happens in
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real life!
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Everyone suddenly goes silent, and looks toward the camera ominously,
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then to a big lighted panel on the computer room wall.
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(---------------------)
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| D A F T C O N 5 |
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(---------------------)
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All wipe sweat off foreheads, and breath sighs of relief.
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PATINGGGG! The sign changs to:
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(---------------------)
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| D A F T C O N 4 |
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(---------------------)
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And everybody starts acting nervously, looking over their shoulders, and
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under desks and thing looking for anything Out Of The Ordinary.
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STEVE: Maybe the sign`s broken?
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NIK: If the sign`s reading wrong, how do you explain it`s presence here
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any way? Did we always have a Sillyness State Indicator on the wall?
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STEVE: Uh, I can`t explain it. I just hope it`s wrong!
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BOG: Twiddle dee dee.
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A ByStander looks worried.
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Nik notices this.
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NIK: (Reassuringly) Don`t worry: He`s always like this.
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BYSTANDER: You mean that`s supposed to reassure me?
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NIK: Good point.
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BYSTANDER: OK. (Bystander points).
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BOG: Caution, all personnel: Daftcon State Four has just been justified.
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Daftcon State Four has just been justified. You can stop taking life too
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seriously, `cos you can bet your arse it`s stopped taking you that way.
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STEVE: It generally takes me with a grain of salt.
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NIK: Jammy sod, all I get is a glass of water!
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ALL: G R O A N N N N N N!
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KNIGHT WHO SAYS NI: Ni!!!
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Nick Clayton enters, and everyone swings through 180 degrees and sticks
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their fingers down their throats. Disk crawl out of diskboxes and hide
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under keyboards, and a muffled gunshot from the SysOp`s office marks the
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fact that Alastair just can`t take any more. Ser Clayton is everybody`s
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favorite: The guy who can make anybody`s program his own baby, and always
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does. The progenator of the phrase "Vorsprung Durch ASCIIEditor, as we say
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in D132". He`s also known as The Great One, on account of being,
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essentially, a fat bast.
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BOG: Serves Alastair right for taking me off the CP directory. I`ve
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wanted to do that for ages.
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NICK: Awight? (Inner tube jowls slapping the sides of his head with the
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sound of two six- hundres- foot radius waterbombs willed with orange jelly
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impacting once every point- eight seconds)
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NIK: We were.
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STEVE: Sort of.
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BOG: Oh fuck.
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THE KEV: Now I am.
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N/S/B: You fucking joking?
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THE KEV: Ah, well, you see, Nick here is the only one here who knows all
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the keyboard shortcuts to every windows application ever written.
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STEVE: Yeah, `cos he wrote `em all!
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NIK: Last weekend.
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BOG: At four PM.
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S/N/B: I N G E R M A N ! ! ! !
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NICK: Dutch, actually.
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Nik, Steve and Bog collapse with laughter.
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ADVERT TIME!
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A man and a woman are cudled up on a soft sofa in front of a lovely warm
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fire. Their lips draw near. Suddenly, the bloke burps, then pukes all
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down the gel`s cleavage. The legend
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TREVOR`S BLADDER SALTS: FOR THOSE... DELICATE MOMENTS
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appears.
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Fade.
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There`s a youngish looking bloke sat in total darkness except for a
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glowing screenful of assembly language instructions. His eyes are
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strained, haggard and monitor- irradiated.
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VOICEOVER: Sometimes, you just feel as if you`re at the end of your
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tether. The deadline for the next scrap of code is ten hours away, failure
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means the end of your career, and you`re stuck. Total brain- lock. You
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don`t have a chance in hell of getting that substructure right. There`s
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only one solution.
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The progger pulls a gun from his pocket, puts it to his temple, and blows
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the contents of his head all over the monitor.
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VOICOVER: Remington: When you just can`t take any more from life, our
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.22, .38 Special and .44 Magnum calibre cartridges won`t let you down.
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Fade back to the SIX MEN AND A BANANA logo.
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Craig is walking down the corridor leading from Norcot Centre to Lekky
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labs, and he has a syringe stuck behind his left ear. In one hand he holds
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six mars bars, and in the other a can of Coke and a pair of skis.
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Freind Craig Bapty is an oddbod. This is the person who has become so
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attatched to the character he plays with during roleplaying games, that he
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has come to beleive that he DOES in fact have meshed skin and bone,
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cybernetic eyes, and a sodding great titanium alloy arm, with hidden rocket
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launchers. This makes taking the piss out of him great fun, `cos he whips
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his right arm up at you, chenches his fist, then yells "BUGGER!" then rams
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a screwdriver into it to find out what`s wrong. Sad....
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As Craig approaches the doors at the end of the corridor, there is a
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muffled BLAM from behind him, somewhat reminiscent of an Iain- sized object
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suddenly displacing it`s volume in air. Craig turns.
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IAIN: Bugger. Missed the lab again.
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As with most of the Henley College Crew so far, Iain is gnot gnormal.
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Iain is always... lurking. Lurking and plotting. Plotting and Scheming.
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Plus, that odd faculty of self- displacement through The Cirucits of Time,
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which he`s been doing much, much more of recently. (Ed: Check out
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Bill&Ted`s Henley College Adventure [C] 1992 Hippo Enterprises)
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Craig simply looks baffled and continues down the corridor to the computer
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room. As he climbs the stairs, he hears another BLAM from above him. On
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entering the computer room, Iain is up to his knees in floor. Or the
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carpet is up to it`s eyeballs in Iain, depending on your point of view.
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Nobody has noticed this apart from Craig yet.
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CRAIG: Iain, what the fuck are you doing?
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IAIN: Missing the bloody electronics lab again! I bet you anythign that
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any minute now, Bob`ll turn up with the carpet I displaced downstairs.
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BOB: Does anybody know how this bit of carpet appeared inside my Thermos?
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IAIN: Told you so!
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Craig holds his head in his hands, (Clatter, clatter, splooosh, and sound
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effects for six marsbars impacting on the floor which I haven`t cooked up
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yet.) and gibbers.
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BOG: Steve, d`you reckon it`s worth walking up that bloody hill just to
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sit in tutor for five minutes and then spend forty minutes waiting for
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maths to start?
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STEVE: Uh, no.
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BOG: Me either.
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Both Bog and Steve turn back to their respective computers for exactly four
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point seven zero three nine six seconds, then turn with pricise
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simultaniousness to look at Iain drumming his fingers on the floor whilst
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standing vertically.
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Nik turns to ask Steve something, and notices that Steve isn`t interested
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in being asked anything at the moment, and sees what`s got his attention.
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NIK: Oh, SHIT!
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Even Nick Clayton is speechless.
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IAIN: What?
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BOG: Iain, Iain, Iain, you`re, like, part of the floor, dude!
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IAIN: So I`m a lousy shot. So what? It`s perfectly normal to commune
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with carpets nowadays, you know!
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STEVE: Wooooahhhhh.....
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NIK: How the HELL did you get there?
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IAIN: I got distracted.
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CRAIG: Whine.
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STEVE: If this is DAFTCON 4, I`d love to see DAFTCON 0.
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BOG: Believe you me, you really, REALLY don`t want to.
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IAIN: Whyever not?
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BOG: It`s disturbingly like being on TV.
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CRAIG: Do I want to know why that`s so terrible?
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BOG: Ever seen the Twilight Zone?
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NIK: Oh, SHIIIIIIT!!!
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Even Iain is looking worried by now.
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BOG: But don`t worry. We`ve only got, what, two hours `till the buses
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come.
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Gareth sticks his head around the corner, and Iain`s natural SEP field
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successfully deflects his attention.
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GARETH: Yeah, but then we have to wipe it off!
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ALL: Baaa! Baaa! Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
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GARETH: Allright, allright, no need to get rude.
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ALL: BULLSHIT!
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GARETH: Smartarses.
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*****BLAMMO!***** Iain dematerializes for exactly a small fraction of a
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something before reappearing two feet off the deck.
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IAIN: Wah!
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(Thud)
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BOG: One hour fifty seven minutes. Oh God, which sadistic bast made these
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units so big? Even a second`s a long time. Wankers. I know! There`s a
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cure for this one!
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STEVE: Oh, yeah!
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NIK/ CRAIG/ IAIN: Oh, NO WAY!!
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BOG: Yes, way...
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STEVE&BOG: Some thing in life are bad. They can really make you
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mad...
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PTINNNNGGG!!!
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(---------------------)
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| D A F T C O N 3 |
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(---------------------)
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ALL: Oh, bugger.
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Suddenly, Graham`s voice comes from the Office of the Tenders of The Lan.
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GRAHAM: Waaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!
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NIK: <ouch>
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BOG: <Gnnn>
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STEVE: <Oooo>
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IAIN: <Yahh>
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CRAIG: <Mmph>
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GARETH: Can I have a go?
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N/B/S/I/C: Fu... uh... no. You can`t.
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BOG: Only one thing for it, dudes. It`s starting to get silly. You know
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what that means.
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STEVE: Yeah. Nothing does what we expect it to do.
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NIK: Right! So if we`re playing it at it`s own game...
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BOG: Then this computer (If I can bring myself to call it that (sneer))
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expects me to use the mouse, then by simply doing something else...
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IAIN: You outwierd it!
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Craig pulls the syringe from behind his ear, and shoves it into his arm
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CRAIG: God, I wish I had something stronger than Insulin on me...(Squirt)
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BOG: Reet.
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He grabs the mouse, which starts squeaking, and attempting to drive his
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hand crackingly into the CPU box. Sussing it`s game, he grips it, hoys it
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three feet it the air, and, an expert eater, catches it in his gob.
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Krrrunch.
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BOG: Guuuuumph.... bruuuuuuuup. Hmmm. Needs oregano.
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Steve, Iain, Craig and Nik start chewing simultaneously and agree all at
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the same time. They look at one another.
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NICK: Oh my God, they`ve gone mad.
|
||
|
||
As The Claytoid passes by a diskbox, it`s contents start rippling out of it
|
||
and onto the floor in a pretty fanspread relational to tidal gravity from
|
||
his paunch.
|
||
|
||
STEVE: Bloody hell. Not satisfied with taking other people`s code, he`s
|
||
ripped off my bloody gravity flux as well!
|
||
|
||
BOG: Well, at least now it doesn`t seem like we`re looking at you through
|
||
fisheye lenses anymore.
|
||
|
||
IAIN: How`s that?
|
||
|
||
BOG: Well, now photons should warp around him any longer.
|
||
|
||
STEVE: Bugg... uh.. no, I mean...
|
||
|
||
The ICL that Stevey Babes is sat at suddenly... phases. The banana
|
||
disappears to be replaced with a cabbage flashing red and purple.
|
||
|
||
STEVE: Aaawwwww, SHIT!
|
||
|
||
At this point, Dan "Pastie" Powell walks in, and seeing as I can't think
|
||
of anything for him to do right now, he just leans against a wall for a
|
||
bit. While he's doing that, I'll tell you about him.
|
||
|
||
Dan is marked by the fact that he's the only person in creation to have an
|
||
alien lifeform living in perfect simbiosys with him. The creature's real
|
||
name is totally unpronouncable, so everybody just calls it by it's function
|
||
in life :- "Hair". The other remarkable thing is, he's the only person in
|
||
the Team who's room is always tidy: The reason for this phenomenon is
|
||
simple: Dan uses pasties for energy. Hair uses the rubbish on Dan's floor
|
||
for energy by grazing whilst he sleeps.
|
||
|
||
Craig has finished logging in, but is confused by the Henley Kollidge login
|
||
screen`s replacement by a glowing red orb. He hits the break key.
|
||
|
||
HAL: I`m sorry, Craig, but I can`t allow you to do that.
|
||
|
||
Craig looks overhis shoulder at everyone else.
|
||
|
||
CRAIG: Can somebody tell me what the HELL is going on here?
|
||
|
||
STEVE: I`m afraid IT`s happening again, Craig.
|
||
|
||
CRAIG: No, not... THAT.
|
||
|
||
NIK: Yes. We`re re- entering...
|
||
|
||
ALL: THE A LITTLE AFTER LUNCHTIME ZONE!
|
||
|
||
Soundtrack: nee nee nee nee, nee nee nee nee, nee nee nee nee, nee nee nee
|
||
nee!
|
||
|
||
HAL: Craig, why don`t you take an anti- stress pill and we`ll discuss
|
||
this. After all, I have the utmost enthusiasm for the mission.
|
||
|
||
STEVE: Hmm. We appear to have had a fragment of 2001, a Spaced Odyssey,
|
||
penetrate our personal reality- space.
|
||
|
||
NIK: Can you justify calling THIS reality?
|
||
|
||
IAIN: Ever seen inside an Amiga?
|
||
|
||
NIK: Oh, yeah.
|
||
|
||
BOG: Shurrup. (Sulk).
|
||
|
||
STEVE: Actually, guys, this is a bit of a change! We`re staying where we
|
||
were this time, and everythings coming to us!
|
||
|
||
Cue backdrop fade out to inky black space, pierced at intervals by stars
|
||
scattered like diamond dust on jet- black velvet, then to a clinically
|
||
white room: the monitor with the glowing red orb has been
|
||
transdimensionally replaced with a dull red scanner eye and a seventies-
|
||
like Bolton- ferbruary- day- grey console with the nameplate "H.A.L.
|
||
9000". We just have enough time to hear our heros` jaws hit the ground
|
||
before it`s time for the credits.
|
||
|
||
IN NEXT WEEK`S SIX MEN AND A BANANA...
|
||
|
||
-----
|
||
|
||
STEVE: OK. It seems that Iain here has turned reality into swiss cheese.
|
||
We just happened to randomly pop up on the Discovery, just before Frank
|
||
Poole gets killed by Hal...
|
||
|
||
DAVE: Whaaaat?
|
||
|
||
HAL: Oh, bugger. Er, it was just going to be a joke, Dave...
|
||
|
||
-----
|
||
|
||
DAN: Need a hand?
|
||
|
||
BOG: Thanks.
|
||
|
||
(POP) Bog pockets Dan`s left hand.
|
||
|
||
DAN: Oi! Give that back!
|
||
|
||
BOG: Soz. (Skwudge)
|
||
|
||
-----
|
||
|
||
HAL: I`ve got some people trying to take control of the Discovery. They
|
||
want to destroy my mind.
|
||
|
||
KILLEMALL: Will three Mark IIX assault droids and a disruptor unit do?
|
||
|
||
HEL: That should be perfectly adequate.
|
||
|
||
KILLEMALL: I`m despatching them now. They should arrive in a couple of...
|
||
|
||
-----
|
||
|
||
That last part has been removed on the grounds of maintaining suspense.
|
||
|
||
Fade.
|
||
|