(This is part of the Brejcha Personal and Disability Resource Site, and after reading this page you can Click here for a Menu . But for now, Welcome to my:
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This was originally published in the September 11th, 1998 (issue #54) issue of SpaceWays Weekly (SpaceWays Weekly was a commercial semi-pro E-mail magazine of Science Fiction and Fantasy short stories.unfortunately closed, but still up with all contributer info -1998 issue - click on September )
©1998 F. Alexander Brejcha
A tree of blinding light exploded up from the ground, prompting a retaliatory barrage of lightning bolts from above. Then: a brief silence, except for a steady cascade of water followed by a rolling wave of thunder that reached down with a new assault of wind to rock the van.
Max leaned forward in his wheelchair to look out past the single working wiper that was waging a losing battle with the rain. The engine was off, but the defroster blew away on full blast in a vain effort to hold back the rising fog that was starting to cloud all the windows. He tore off another sheet from the roll of paper towels next to him, and wiped what he could reach of the windshield again. Then he stared out at the dim landscape that only twenty minutes ago had been bathed with bright noonday sun. It was as if he was looking out on some alien planet. On the other side of the parking lot, dim tree shapes twisted and pushed out in the gloom, as if trying to ward off the elements. A single drenched pedestrian, wrapped up in an unraveling wind-breaker, staggered across the pavement to get to the Turnpike's fast food shop -- whichever one this was. He forgot who had this concession. He had just pulled in here to get off the suddenly invisible roadway that had disappeared under a sudden deluge of water.
Rolling down the driver's side window a bit, he let in a blast of cool, wet drops. God, it felt good after the suffocating heat just minutes earlier!
He took off his glasses and put them down on the passenger seat, leaving his face wet as he rolled up the window. How long would this last? He wanted to get to Pittsburgh before stopping for dinner and he was still west of Cleveland. Not far west, though, according to the map lying on the seat next to him. Cleveland was only a half hour away -- once the rain slowed!
It stopped.
As if someone had flipped a switch and turned off a faucet, the celestial fireworks and rain disappeared. The sudden silence was deafening, and he rolled down the window to lean out and breathe deeply of the cool, fresh air. Overhead, the clouds were being frayed into tatters and the sun was already breaking through in a second dawn.
"Excuse me?" a soft voice intruded.
He looked back to see a woman approach his van. She looked to be around his age, in her late twenties, and pretty in a strong-featured way. Her warm brown eyes were large and expressive, but sad. Their slight tilt gave her face a vaguely Oriental cast. Short, straight black hair added to the impression, but her faintly British accent belied it. She wore tight, stone-washed jeans over black boots and a thin powder-blue knit top with short sleeves, both of which showed off her slender but very feminine figure.
He opened the door, as much to see her better as to show his wheelchair locked into the driver's position -- to let her know he could not be polite and climb out to greet her.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"Please. I..." She paused, seemingly embarrassed as she put down the large, brown leather duffel-bag she was carrying. "I need a lift. My... ride left without me. We stopped here on our way back from --"
"-- the con in Chicago?" he guessed. He saw the small pewter dragon necklace dangling around her neck and grinned. He had seen the same thing in the dealer's room at the science fiction convention he had left early that morning.
"You too?" Her face brightened marginally.
"Uh huh. A repeat visit. My sister lives there, and given the fun I had at the Worldcon a few years ago, I just had to come back since she scheduled her wedding the weekend of the local con. It was a perfect excuse to get away from Philly and work."
"From work and reality?" The corners of her mouth twitched.
"Yeah, not a bad deal. Two for one," he joked. But she was solemn again and he leaned over. "What's wrong?"
She looked vaguely hunted. "My friends and I... we had an argument and they took off without me." She forced a smile. "It's funny you're from Philadelphia. That's where I'm going and I have to get there as quickly as possible. I don't have anyone to call, and I don't have a driver's license so I couldn't rent a car, even if I could afford it. Could I --"
"Sure. Hop in." He leaned over and using the one foot-rest he had to take off when rolling into the driver's position, reached over to pop the lock knob up on the passenger door with a practiced wiggle. She had already circled around to open the door and handed him her bag as she climbed in.
"Thanks a lot!"
"No problem. Having company will help keep me awake. I'm driving straight through because I've got to get back by tomorrow."
"Great! That means I won't have to try to find another ride." She sounded relieved. "I really do appreciate it." She blushed faintly. "Oh, and hi, I'm Maggie Daniels." She held out a hand, looking over his power wheelchair and hand-controls in curiosity.
He shook her hand. "Max Thompson. Multiple Sclerosis, and yup, it's neat." He answered her obvious unspoken questions with a grin and started the engine. "This lever is attached to both the gas and the brake with rods. Down is gas," he demonstrated, racing the engine by pulling down on the long lever that stuck out parallel with the turn signal stalk, "and forward," he pushed, "is the brake. And the dimmer switch and horn are right on the lever." He indicated a small toggle switch and a button near the handle.
She looked embarrassed. "I hope you don't think --"
"That you're being nosy? Nah. I hate it when people just stare, or worse: obviously don't stare, and don't ask questions. That's not natural. Kids are great, though. They'll come right out and ask. And they love my lift." He pointed back to the lift behind the passenger seat." When those doors open automatically and the lift unfolds, I wish I had a tape of the Star Trek theme music to go with it. I still think it's neat and I've had it for years, now."
Maggie chuckled briefly. "I'll bet." After a last look out the window behind them, she leaned back in the seat as he pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the turnpike. For the first time since she had approached him, she seemed to relax and turned to him with a tentative smile.
"What else do you do, besides entertaining kids?"
"Computer nerd. I work for a hospital data processing department. What about you?"
She tensed again and looked away. "I work for a group of aliens collecting data on humans."
"Oh."
It was said so matter of fact that he almost asked just what system her employers came from, until what she had said sank in.
About a mile passed by in total silence as he drove, carefully not looking at her as he wondered what he had gotten into. Granted, some fans sometimes got overly involved in make-believe worlds, but once they left the cons, they usually returned to semi-normal. More mentally normal than he was, most of them! But this? She sounded like she really believed it.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her close her eyes as she rested her head on the doorframe. Her face was tight and she was chewing slowly on her lower lip.
After a minute he turned to her, and she met his eyes immediately to give him a wan smile.
"I thought I scared you off there. Fanatical fan who's lost touch with reality, and all that."
"So why did you tell me?"
"I can't lie. A little 'adjustment' they made so they would get accurate reporting. I agreed to it and they pay well so I can't complain too much. But when I get a direct question it can be a little awkward. Especially when I'm tired --"
"Like now?"
She nodded. "Uh huh."
"Were you at the con at their request?"
"Yup. I've been doing the circuit for months. They're fascinated by the whole fan phenomenon. The people in fandom are an interesting mix of real heavy duty scientists and techies --"
"-- and some border-line flakes."
"And a bunch of fairly normal people who just need something to escape from mundane realities once in a while. Be fair," she chided him with a flash of humor.
"Yes, but those people aren't as interesting to watch," he countered.
"Touché." She chuckled.
Then he fell silent. He didn't believe her and felt awkward talking to her like he did. She was looking at him a bit suspiciously, too, so, for a while, they rode on in silence.
Then, after about twenty minutes, he couldn't stand it anymore. Carefully avoiding her 'job', he started talking about his experiences at the convention, drawing her out about what she had thought about the masquerade and the various panels. Before long, they were chatting like old friends, discovering that they shared a wide range of interests -- far beyond the world of science fiction. A whole new person was opening up to him as they talked, and he liked her.
The sprightly music of some Vivaldi concerti were enthusiastically chosen when he sampled the CDs in his changer for her, and for a while they compared notes on favorite composers and pieces. He found himself loving the sound of her voice and her laugh. The trip was going to be a lot quicker than he had expected.
But at last he couldn't restrain himself. She obviously believed her fantasy, and he wanted to know how deep it went. He had a deep curiosity about people, and wondered how someone so in touch with herself in every other area, could have such a strong delusion.
Trying to sound casual, he asked her: "I have to get back home for work, but what's your rush? Are you meeting your... employers?"
She sat up sharply. "Please! Don't humor me. I know you don't believe me, so please don't pretend you do."
He let go of the spinner knob on the steering wheel briefly and reached out with his right hand to touch her tensed shoulder.
"Okay, I'm sorry. You're right: I don't. But I've got an open mind. Convince me. I want to believe. Hell, I'm a fellow fan!"
She didn't answer right away, but just looked away, thinking. Finally she relaxed and turned back to him with an unexpected, quirky smile.
"I don't know if I should. At cons, everyone just chalks what I say up to my playing a part and getting into it, but I don't know --"
"-- if it would be wise to actually convince somebody?" he finished.
"Exactly."
"So, who's going to believe me?" He grinned.
"True." After a silent moment, she shrugged. "So, what do you want to know?"
"I'll tell you what bothers me. Even if I do believe that most UFO sightings are hoaxes or mistakes, I don't believe that they all are. But: if aliens are out there, how come we don't know it, what with all the SETI projects going?"
"There's a shield in place around the system designed to randomize, to a degree, any recognizable signals that could be picked up by our equipment." She held up a hand. "Don't ask me for details. I'm not a techie. I do know it also screws up some natural signals, strictly as a side-effect."
"Well," he admitted, "that would explain some conflicting results from research. Say I buy that -- what about all the damn sightings throughout history. If we're off limit until we grow up a bit... is that it?" He cocked an eyebrow and she nodded. "Well, they're not doing too well if all these saucers are buzzing the planet. You can't tell me they are all false."
She shook her head. "No. They're not -- though most of them are. But they have a problem --"
"Just who are 'they'?" he interrupted.
"I don't know. Except for the 'adjustment' they made, while I was asleep, they don't come near me. I've never actually seen any of them. They only contact me by phone, or over my computer while I'm online."
"Why did you believe them?"
"They knew everything about me. Too much for someone who wasn't tapped into a dozen different computers. And they were able to predict things no one could have known about. International events, political things." She glared at him defensively. "I didn't just wake up one morning believing I was talking to little green men on my TV. It took them a while to convince me."
"Okay, okay." He held out an open hand in laughing surrender. "You said something about a problem?"
She relaxed. "Yes. It's simple: grad students." Her mouth twitched in a grin.
"Grad students?"
"Well, undergrads, too. Or their equivalent. Earth is a rich source of study. It is one of the few worlds with such heterogeneous cultures. On this one planet, there are stone age and modern technological societies living in close proximity of each other. That kind of disparity is unheard of anywhere else. Cultural and sociological students and experts from a dozen planets are studying us, and sometimes --"
"Some of the younger, less disciplined students get 'drunk' and break the rules a little bit?" He grinned. "Is that it? It's so stupid I almost believe it."
She nodded. "Exactly. The penalties are strict, but --"
"-- that just adds to the thrill of the game," he finished. "It's reassuring to see some things are universal."
"Not really. There are only a few of the species who are that much like us. But it only takes a few."
"All right, Maggie. Let's say I believe you --"
"Which you don't."
"To be honest, no."
She smiled. "Thanks. But go ahead."
"Say I believe you, is that why you need to get back to Philly? To 'report in'?"
She nodded. "Uh huh. I have my computer there, and I can log on and leave a message for them."
He slowed and pulled over onto the widened rest-area they were just passing, wincing as the car behind him honked.
Maggie sighed and reached for the door handle.
"I know: 'find another ride'. This is what happened with the last time when I wouldn't back off on my story after we left Chicago."
He reached out to stop her. "No, wait." He turned and pulled off the back-pack hanging on the back of his chair. "I just thought: why wait till we get to Philly?" He nodded at the cell-phone on his engine cover, and then reached into the backpack to pull out his notebook computer. "I have several programs on the computer, and a built-in modem that interfaces with the phone. This is worth a roaming charge!" He grinned as he checked the phone.
"Four bars on the signal strength, we're close to a transmission tower." He unplugged the phone connector and slipped it into the modem jack. "I have several accounts, what do you use?"
"I found the aliens on BIX, talking in some of the conference areas."
He shook his head as he loaded it. "You're in luck: I use BIX a lot to talk to a blind friend in Boston. The text-based interface is easy for him to use." Then, after looking through his travel notes for a local access number, he typed it in and passed the computer over to Maggie.
"Your turn. I won't peek at your password."
"That's okay. I'll change it." She typed "mdaniels" for name and "snooper" for her password, squinting to read a screen almost washed out by the daylight.
Max smiled. "Appropriate."
"I thought so." Her fingers continued flying expertly across the keyboard as she went straight to mail. For a moment she paused, and then typed "to watchers" and then "ready to report" at the "subject?" prompt. At the first line prompt she just typed, "I am ready to make a preliminary report, please reply right away. Can't 'talk' long here." Then she ended the message, sent it and leaned back.
Her face was animated as she curled up in her seat to face him.
"Someone is always on and waiting for any message so this won't take long."
He leaned over and she swung the computer around so he could see, moving a little closer so she could also read.
He caught the light scent of her perfume as he looked over at her intent face. She really was beautiful.
He almost forgot what he was looking for when he turned his attention back to the glowing screen, but after a minute he pointed reluctantly. "They're not online, Maggie."
"No, they are." She was smiling softly.
"Oh, okay." He drew back selfconsciously and waited for her mail prompt, and for a while they just sat staring at the screen expectantly, but then Maggie looked up at him teasingly.
"So, are you married?" She cocked her head and studied him. "Nah, no ring, and I have a feeling you wouldn't be the type to take it off."
"Oh really? Why?"
"You're blushing!" She laughed. "I haven't seen that in a guy for a while. Now I know I'm right."
He shrugged. "Chalk it up to leading a sheltered life. Being a painfully shy nerd most of my life has a lot to do with it."
"'Most of'?" She glanced at the chair. "Let me guess. Being on display all the time now is changing that?"
He nodded. "That, and exposure to the fandom. I'm not nearly as self-conscious any more. It's something interesting I've been noticing. The people in the science fiction field, fan and pro, are more accepting of differences than a lot of the general population."
Maggie's eyes opened wide. "I hadn't thought about that! That's a good point. Probably because a lot of us are sort of out of the mainstream ourselves. Nerds R' Us, with apologies to all." She grinned. "I know you don't believe me, but that's something real valuable to add to my report."
That reminded him of the time and escalating roaming charge as he realized at least ten minutes had gone by without an answer. He started to question his decision to call from the van instead of finding a pay phone.
Maggie was also getting agitated, and her foot had started tapping a staccato beat on floor as she stared at the screen nervously.
Suddenly he noticed a car pulling in behind them, doors opening wide almost before the car had stopped. A man and a woman, both in their late forties, spilled out and came running towards the van. The man headed for his side of the van and the woman for Maggie's side. He rolled down his window even as Maggie locked her door, having noticed the couple for the first time. A hunted, desperate look came over her face as she ignored the woman knocking on her window.
"No! Not now!" She didn't look up.
The man leaned close, peering past him at Maggie.
"Are you okay, honey?"
"Go away!" Maggie drew in on herself and focused on the computer screen. Her mouth moved silently as if to urge an answer from the "watchers".
"Who are you?" Max asked the man as the woman came around to his side.
"I'm Jeff Daniels, Maggie's brother, and this is my wife, Lizbeth. We're her guardians. Maggie's been ill, poor thing, and we got permission to fly out to Chicago with her because her doctor thought it might do her good to get out and to mix with other science fiction fans, and this was the closest one going on this week. But apparently she fooled us and wasn't taking her medicine properly. You needn't worry, though, she's harmless -- just a little out of touch with reality."
Max took an immediate dislike to Daniels on an almost instinctive level. The patronizing tone grated, and he didn't like the way Maggie shrank from the sound of it. He turned to her. "Maggie?"
She ignored him. "Why don't they answer?" She looked up from the computer, eyes wide and moist. "I know they got my message. They always do!"
"Maggie, please." He reached out to lay a hand lightly on her arm. "Is that your brother and sister-in-law? Is he telling the truth?"
"NO!... I mean yes. But I'm not crazy. I have been talking to the aliens. They knew all about me. They're just studying us and I was helping."
"See what I mean?" Daniels oozed unctuous concern and Max felt like rolling up the window and getting the hell out of there, even though the driver's license Daniels displayed identified him.
"I even have the hospital pass," Daniels went on as he pulled out a folded sheet of paper and opened it to show an official looking seal and the heading "Santorini Health Center". Underneath, the paper identified a patient "Margaret Marie Daniels" as a patient with schizophrenia who was granted "an extended leave under supervision of her guardians".
"You see?" Daniels pressed. "Schizophrenia. That means she --"
"I'm familiar with it," Max interrupted. "I studied a little psych. Patients often report hearing voices directing them for some task, etc., etc." It made a sad sense. Maggie's 'voices' were on the computer mainly, but she had said they 'spoke' to her on the phone, too.
Daniels breathed a sigh of relief. "We're just worried about her and want to see her taken care of properly."
"Not likely!" Maggie sneered, suddenly animated. "They want to use my trust fund! As long as I'm 'incompetent' they're executors of my inheritance. And since I got the bulk of my dad's estate -- including the house in Bryn Mawr that Jeff and Liz are living in for free -- that suits them just fine. Dad didn't trust Jeff any more than I do, but unfortunately he couldn't predict this." She grabbed Max's arm and looked at him intently.
"Please! You seem to be a decent guy. Do I look like some loon to you?"
He felt torn. On one hand, she was more than just a pretty woman he had picked up on the road. She was intelligent, curious, had a nice sense of humor and, other than her preoccupation with the aliens, seemed perfectly rational, and he felt strongly drawn to her. On an instinctive level, he had immediately been comfortable with her.
But... He studied the paper again.
Maggie let go and sighed. "I know. What can you do? If I don't go with them, they'll swear that you kidnapped me and send the police after us. I don't want to get you in trouble." She logged off and exited, turning off the computer and hanging up the phone. "Let Jeff know how much the bill for this call was and they'll pay it!" She glared at Daniels as if daring him to contradict her.
"Of course," Daniels agreed. "You thought you were helping her. That's the least we can do."
Maggie turned back to Max, her hand warm on his arm again as she leaned close. "Thank you! I'm glad we met."
He started to speak, glaring at Daniels, but she stopped him.
"No. I'll be okay. Really. But thanks!" She bent forward to kiss him warmly on the lips, a soft touch that made him light-headed. As she pulled away she whispered, "you know my online name and password. E-mail me with your name and log on as me when you can. I don't know when I can log on again. They might revoke my computer privilege for a while. But when I can, I'll answer you. I could use a friend. And maybe you'll see the watchers' answer and believe me." Then she reached back to grab her duffel-bag and climbed out of the van.
As she walked slowly towards the waiting car and climbed into the back seat, she looked back at him with the same gentle, sad smile he had first seen when he picked her up.
Daniels leaned close with a patently phony smile. "Look, I'm sorry we interrupted your trip like we did. And like I said, we'll reimburse you for that call." He reached into his inside, jacket pocket. "Here's my card. Feel free to call me." Then he spun and disappeared.
Max watched Daniels and his wife get back into the gleaming rental car and he wished that they had never stopped. As the car pulled out with a swift surge of acceleration, he caught a glimpse of Maggie's face looking out at him, resigned, but fighting tears. He slammed his fists against the steering wheel in frustration and put away Daniels' card to start the engine with a savage twist of the key.
He could still taste her quick kiss and smell her lightly floral perfume.
Damn!
* * *
"You're sure about that?" he typed quickly. He watched Joe's shimmering words still hanging on the monitor above his question. Max had responded to a request for a private chat in the realtime conference area of BIX and had found that Joe had been able to dig out the information Max had requested as soon as he got back home.
"Positive," Joe's reply appeared on the screen. He was sitting in his house in Boston, but his answer appeared on Max's screen even as they were typed. "Someone does have a hidden account. They've been hacking in for months. The systems people found the hacker's trail after I called to alert them. They've got it narrowed down to somewhere in suburban Philly."
"Suburban Philly? Where?" Max pulled out Daniels' business card, a surge of suspicion crystallizing.
"A new node in Bryn Mawr."
The card showed a King of Prussia address for Daniels' office, but then he remembered Maggie saying she had inherited her dad's house in Bryn Mawr. He leaned forward.
"I think I've figured it out," he typed. "It's Maggie's brother. I'll bet he's been hacking in and using it to play mind games with her. I told you how he got control of her money. I wouldn't put it past him to have started with a few 'food additives' while she was still living at home. THE SON OF A BITCH!" his fingers stabbed.
"You're taking this kind of personal, aren't you?"
Max leaned back, staring at Joe's words. He could almost hear his friend chuckling.
"I guess I am," he typed slowly. He remembered that quick kiss in the van, the sound of her laughter, and their comfortable conversation before they had been side-tracked by trying to contact her 'aliens'.
"I can't explain it," he went on after a minute. "I only knew her for a couple of hours, but we really seemed to connect."
"Oh oh! Well Sir Galahad, you better ride to her rescue then. :grin:." The little online comment teased him. "What are you going to do?"
Max thought for a minute and then smiled. "I think I may have an idea. I'll get back to you." He left the conference area and sat staring at the system prompt for a long time, thinking through his plan. Finally he roused as he heard a beep and saw the reminding "Are you there?" message on the screen. He logged off and after a moment, he nodded. He couldn't contact Maggie to get her help because she had been cut off from computer access -- as she had suspected she would be -- but he thought she had told him enough that he could handle what he had thought of.
* * *
"Mr Daniels. We have been offline for a period of time due to problems beyond our control, but when we returned and tried to contact your sister, we found that you have apparently been responsible for her having been cut off from computer contact. We failed to realize how much your attempts to impersonate us were disturbing her. Apparently we underestimated her ability to sort out our genuine messages from your false ones. We thought we had adequately explained what you were doing in order that she would not act foolishly and jeopardize her freedom."
Max leaned back and studied the E-Mail letter he had just finished. Almost perfect. He reached forward to finish it.
"We hesitate revealing ourselves to more humans than necessary, but we do need her report on her visit to the Chicago science fiction convention. It will complete an important phase of our research. If you will cooperate and allow her to communicate with us again, we will release some information on a pending corporate decision which should allow you to make a substantial amount of money by buying stock prior to a significant merger announcement. Please respond by simply typing your message as a letter to your sister. We will intercept it and respond."
"There! That ought to do it," he muttered to himself as he ended the message and sent it to Daniels' mailbox. He had seen that Daniels was a BIX subscriber -- which made sense. Much easier to hack a system if already online and familiar with it.
He had figured that part out already and grinned as he pictured Daniels going crazy trying to find out who had sent him the message. There was no return 'address' on it since, thanks to Joe's influence with the BIX administrators, Max had his own hidden account now. It would do Daniels good to get a dose of his own medicine. He had already checked and seen that Daniels was online at the moment which meant he would get a mysterious and anonymous mail flag popping up on his screen. That ought to get his attention.
He logged off and then dialed back, signing on under Maggie's name and password this time. Then he checked into the Star Trek conference to get caught up on the messages. Luckily he remembered the number of the last message he had read, and skipped to it. He could take the time to get caught up since, when Daniels responded, he would see the mail flag.
It took nearly fifteen minutes, but with a little blip, a message showed on the screen: "mail from jdaniels". He smiled and moved into the mail area. One E-Mail message was waiting in Maggie's mailbox. He pulled it down.
"Who the hell are you? And how did you know I had been sending hidden messages to my sister? Is this some kind of blackmail attempt?"
Short and angry. And everything Max had hoped for. Almost.
He logged off and went back to the hidden account to type a reply.
"We are studying your world, as we said. Your sister had been assisting us until you cut her off. From your reply, may we guess her inheritance is involved in your attempt to make people think she was unbalanced?" He exited and signed back on as Maggie.
A shorter wait this time and then a terse reply.
"Okay. I don't know who you are, but you obviously figured it out. It's working fine, so don't screw it up! How much do you want?"
Perfect! Max let out a short yell. "Got ya!"
At that moment, the BIX administrators were reading both Max's and Daniels' letters, and they would be getting ready to contact Daniels. Now it was all over except for the filing of official charges. And Joe was making sure the information was passed on to the police and to the hospital where Maggie was being held. It would be a hell of a legal tangle, and it might take quite a while to unravel, but somehow he just knew that even if Daniels might go unprosecuted, he was going to lose control of Maggie's money, and that she would be released.
He wished he could tell her what was happening. And that he could see Daniels' face when he realized he had been tricked into admitting what he had done.
#
Suddenly a mail flag beeped. But with no name... he was still on under Maggie's account.
He stared at the mail flag with disbelief. The BIX people had scoured the system for top to bottom to make sure there were no other hidden accounts. A line from an old movie flashed through his mind: "They're ba-a-a-ck!"
Hesitantly he typed, "in 1" and then watched a new letter scroll onto the screen.
"Hi, Maggie, we have been offline a while because the faculty advisors came to Earth for a surprise inspection of all the graduate research projects. Anything new happen while we were away? Are you ready to report on the convention?"
- end -
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