Sfstory Log 034

=========================================================================
Subject:     wherein plotlines are picked up and interwoven
From:        Dr Abigail Ann Young (YOUNG at vm.epas.utoronto.ca)

The pub seemed to flicker before her eyes, and then as far as the
Doctor was concerned, it went out.  When she opened her eyes, she was
was in a rather odd looking laboratory containing what were
clearly benches and other equipment for non-human, non-bipedal,
beings.  On the bench before her was a brown betty tea pot,
from whose spout emerged a fragrant wisp of steam, and next to
it was a brown earthenware cup.

It must be tea: she never touched the stuff herself, but still she
recognized the fragrance and the usual accoutrements.  Instinctively,
she looked down at her hand to see whether the pint of ale which she
had been clutching when MORGANA's device took effect was still
there.  It was, so she drank it off and looked around the lab.  There
was something about it which was both familiar and disturbing.
Despite the odd furniture and equipment, it reminded her strongly
of something which had once been very familiar....von Spleen's
laboratory!  Could this also be the lab of a Spamologist?  She
touched the teapot: it was still hot, but obviously cooling
rapidly, so it seemed likely that the owner of the lab would
return soon.

Suddenly a figure she knew materialized in front of the bench:
not von Spleen, but Dar Jeeling, Red-Rose-Tea-ologist supreme,
former henchman of the Doctor (in disguise), and a Powerful But
Evil Pan-Dimensional Being (PBEPDB).

Each was unpleasantly surprised to see the other, but they recovered
quickly, and the Doctor outlined the events which had brought her
there [thus providing me with an excuse for a short plot summary]:

&&&Well, after you disappeared, THE PLAN languished for some time
while we tried to find another computer account to help.  Then
the boys [as she sexistly referred to the dictionaries who were
her henchmen] announced they'd found another account which was
even more useful than you could have been, named MORGANA.  She,
or rather, it had no use for THE PLAN, but seemed to think it
needed to duplicate me -- I don't know why -- so it did, and
sent me here.  What it wants to do is save DVAX5 from
inevitable destruction by preserving its backup files on CD-ROM:
I think MORGANA must be an omnivax core account in disguise.
I'm afraid THE PLAN has to take second place now to trying to
save the multiverse from DVAX5: even the elimination of sexism
and bad grammar is less important than preventing DVAX5 from
taking over everything.  God knows that THE PLAN would have
no chance at all if that happened.&&&  She sighed regretfully
and looked at her empty glass, wondering what the likelihood
was of getting any beer here.  She turned to Dar and asked,
&&&What have you been doing since you left us, eh?&&&

With a faint growl of rage he said, "I discovered that Spam was
very easy to get in altiverse#1, so easy that I never needed to
waste time on your plot.  But when I brought some back and opened
the tin, I discovered that two different three dimensional vectors
of a multi-dimensional force cannot co-exist in the same space:
the Spam in the tin and the Red Rose teabags in the box reacted
like matter and antimatter....."  It laughed ironically, a trait
picked up from the Doctor during their association, "Do you like
my new lab?  There wasn't anything left of the old one except the
charred top of a box of Red Rose tea bags.  So I must either forego
the greater power of Spam and continue to work with tea, or leave
this altiverse, in which alone I can exploit my full powers as a
PBEPDB, to establish a lab in another, Red-Rose-tea-free altiverse.
And I can only travel between the altiverses by using a nice, hot
cup of tea, and the effect only lasts until the tea cools....."

&&&That's too bad, but what about the multiverse?&&&

"What about it?"

&&&Weren't you listening to me?  If MORGANA succeeds in preserving
the backup files for DVAX5 and running them on another omnivax
machine, the paladins and their henchmen will be defeated and the
multiverse will fall under DVAX5's domination.  If that happens,
you don't think you'll be let to run about scheming to take over
the altiverse, or anything else for that matter, do you?  If she
wins, we're both sunk!&&&

"Oh..." observed Dar weakly.  Like many beings, mostly male, before
him, he found the Doctor's combination of insight and impatience with
lesser minds a bit hard to take: no wonder she was trying to take over
altiverse#1, she didn't think anyone else knew enough to come in out
of the rain.  "What do you suggest we do about it?" he riposted with
mild sarcasm which was completely lost on the Doctor.

&&&We have to warn the paladins or their allies, or better still,
the authors.&&&

"Well, won't they read this posting?"

&&&I don't think that's good enough.  Someone should go to altiverse 721
don'ttryitauthorsonly and warn them, and someone else should keep track
of MORGANA.&&&

"Well, I can travel between altiverses, however unreliably, using the
tea, and MORGANA would not recognise me, but how could you get to
Altiverse 721?"

&&&I'm ... related to an author, and I have an ABPSAR: that ought to
help....&&&

"An ABPSAR!!!  But that means you have Spam!" It looked wildly around
the expensive new lab, as if expecting a critical Spam/Red Rose Tea
reaction at any moment.

&&&Yes, of course, but it's shielded inside the fuel comparment of
the ABPSAR and can't react with your tea.  Will you help?&&&

"For a price.... You give me the ABPSAR when (and if) we succeed."

&&&Done.... Now, have you got any ale, eh?  We've got some planning
to do&&&

HAS HE GOT ANY ALE?

WHAT'S THE DOCTOR'S PLAN?

WILL SHE GET INTO THE AUTHORS' ONLY ALTIVERSE?

WHAT KIND OF TRIP WILL DAR HAVE TO FIND MORGANA?  WILL RED ROSE BE ENOUGH?

***** Appended 22:29:19 on 11/15/88, Posting #    75 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Omegas gets on the move
From:        The Cowboy (CFW9587 at TNTECH)

     Omegas, feeling quite like his old self, stood and surveyed that which
     lay around him.  What he surveyed was Club Dead, an expensive and
     miraculous retirement home located in an obscure alterverse that
     lacked even a number.  Club Dead was unique among retirement homes in
     that upon staying there long enough one became immortal.

     There were a few catches, however.  First, you had to have a shitload
     of money.  Omegas had had no trouble in acquiring it, as he simply
     teleported to an alterverse where money grew on trees and took all he
     needed.  Second was that you had to be an inhabitant of that
     alterverse, or be a former immortal.  Again, Omegas had no trouble
     with that, as he was formerly God's most streetwise henchman.  Lastly,
     you had to be very patient, as the process took many years to
     finalize.

     This, Omegas had trouble with.

     After a while, Omegas realized that his posession of the
     mini-taimetraveller exempted himself from the last requirement, and
     simply fast-forwarded himself through the necessary twenty-five
     years.

     He was, as was previously stated, feeling quite like his old
     (immortal) self.  Flipping a farewell salute (consisting of one
     finger) to his companions, he teleported away.  It took the better
     part of the day for most to realize that he was gone, as they were
     very wrapped up in telling him about their grandchildren.

     -------------------

     Time Agent 357 (liscenced space hero) and St. Peter (doorman of
     Heaven) travelled through Time and Space protected by the
     reality-distorting effects of the mini-ABPSARI.  The Automatic Beet
     Peeler and Sub-Atomic Re-Integrator could chew up almost any substance
     and turn it into energy in accordance to the equation E=md^2 (this
     contradicts common assumption that the formula is E=mc^2; a grevious
     error due to an Earth scientist misjudging the weight of a photon).
     However, if it happened to chew anything other than SPAM (Sickening,
     Putrid, Artificial Meat) the resulting distortions in the Space/Time
     continuum was, uh, not pretty.

     Needless to say, they were in pursuit of Omegas, as he had changed The
     Book and had brought the wrath of the Almighty down upon himself and
     all that rot.  For greater detail, let us read now from Chapter 3 of
     the second book of Harold, one of the lost books of the Bible:

     15     And Harold came to his father's deathbed as he had been bid,
     and listened to the marvels of which his dying sire spoke.
     6      And it came to be known that there was in Heaven a great Book,
     and that all the lives and deeds of all men would be recorded
     therein.
     17     And that any man wishing to enter into the Kingdom of Heaven
     would first be checked against the account of his life in The Book.
     18     And any man found wanting had best slip the doorman a C-note or
     else be excluded forever from the land of Joy and Happiness.
     19     The Book shall be deemed Holy and Good and shall be kept
     complete.  No deed shall be overlooked.  No deed shall be changed.
     20     If any being, mortal or otherwise, shall attempt to add unto or
     take away from The Book, or change it in any way, he shall be deemed
     Unholy and Ungood.
     21     And the Unholy and Ungood being shall be set upon by the hosts
     of Heaven, and be made to pay for his misdeeds.
     22     And with this, Harold's father died, and was raised into
     Heaven, and given a beer at God's Place.

     [The Lord moves in mysterious ways.]

***** Appended 19:45:16 on 11/16/88, Posting #    76 *****
]=========================================================================
Subject:     Wherein Buzz and the gang leave
From:        Patrick McCoy (enldc8c at buacca)

     Meanwhile, Buzz, Tachi and Bert were standing in the pit in which
they had been recently tossed.
     "What are we going to do, Buzz?" asked Bert.
     "As soon as the sandsharks are released," Buzz responded, "we
can't move a lot as they hunt by vibration."
     "And then?"
     "I'm not sure."

     Meanwhile, Toni had just finished brutally whiping up the floor
with Sherif the Madder.
     "Groan," said Sherif the Madder.
     "I'm taking your plans to the Destructionvax5 Sattelite," responded
Toni, who deftly read his puny little mind.
     "Uuugghh!" returned Sherif.
     "Of course I'm going to rescue Buzz now," she responded as she
took a jacket and four advanced Heat assault rifles.
     "Hrmmmf," objected the broken prince.
     "That's what you think! I can handle several of your guards and,
once Buzz is out of the pit, your forces don't stand a chance." Toni then
darted out of the room and raced towards the pit.
     "Grooddmmm," he responded, slumping to the floor.
     Toni sped along the hallway leading to the pit where Buzz, Tachi,
and Bert were sweating things out. As she passed the harem supply room,
she stopped long enough to telekenetically grab her own clothing. As she
rounded the final corner, she began to unlace the already rather
revealing blouse she was wearing. This served to distract the guards
long enough to allow her to psi-fry the first ten and blast the others
with a well placed burst from one of the stolen rifles.
     "Toni?" asked Buzz from the pit after the dust began to settle.
     "Just a second," she responded, "I'm almost done changing!"
     "Toni, I don't mean to rush you, but the Sand Sharks are
beginning to close in!"
     "Throw these onto their blow holes!" she responded, tossing the
silks into the pit.
     "Wow!" exclaimed Bert as Buzz caught the clothes, "What a great
idea!"
     Buzz chuckled to himself absently as he tied rocks onto the blouse
to weight it for throwing, "She did do OK, didn't she?"
     "But why don't we just shoot them?" asked Bert as Buzz tossed the
shirt in such a way as to catch the first two Sand Sharks.
     "She has Heat Beam Rifles up there. It would only make glass out
of the sand and wouldn't harm them. Now if we were armed with the
electrostatic guns of the Havaneese, then we could shoot them.
     "Oh," responded the Fungoiod Tetrapod as Buzz suffocated the final
Sand Shark.
     Toni lowered a platform into the pit and the three young heroes
followed their elderly mentor as he lead them through the back streets of
Schimmitar City to the Rocket Racer V.
     They made quick work of the guards, blasted off, and were well on
their way before any type of pursuit could be organized.
     "Where to next, Buzz?" asked Bert as they sped awawy from Schimitar
Prime.
     "We still have to attend to the Destructionvax5 Sattelite," responded
Tachi.
     "Exactly," exclaimed Buzz in a dramatic voice, "I just hope that we're
not too late."

*****************************EPILOGUE***********************
The place: Altiverse #223donttryitauthorsonly
The time: Now

     A brilliant rainbow shot down poolside near where several
of the authors were gathered around the still-comatose body of
Eric, Lord Sabre. In a dazaling display of special effects,
Patrick McCoy appeared, startling the crock which had beed so
recently taught to do the backfloat.
     ++ FX isn't on strike anymore and I've found a bank account
in Switzerland untouched by the Black Scorpion Incedent. ++
     *NI* That's some good news... *NI*
     ++ What's with Sabre? ++
     |-}------- The Horror... -------{-|
     ++ Things look bad. ++
     Just then, the James Bond Theme began to be piped in.
     ++ Things look worse... ++

HOW DO THEY LOOK WORSE?
HAVE THE AUTHORS FINALLY GOTTEN TO THE POINT TO END THE DVAX PLOTLINE?
DID QUAYLE ACTUALLY BECOME VP-ELECT???

For this and that, stay tuned folks...

***** Appended 14:42:44 on 11/18/88, Posting #    77 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     The Doctor crashes a party
From:        Dr Abigail Ann Young (YOUNG at vm.epas.utoronto.ca)

The Doctor and Dar soon went their separate ways.

Dar, motivated by a desire for the Doctor's mini-ABPSARI [(C) Bing
von Spleen] and the faint realisation that a revived DVAX5 would
not be good for his chances of taking over any altiverses at all,
brewed up some more Red Rose and left for Altiverse #1.  His
plan was to get in touch with the dictionaries and try to trace
MORGANA and the CD, and then destroy it.  He hadn't exactly
worked out all the bugs in this plan, but set out hopefully for the
pub where they were last seen.

The Doctor, on the other hand, waited a bit before setting out
for the authors' only altiverse (mistakenly referred to as #721
in the last posting... Gee, fellas, I'm sorry I goofed, but like,
this may be the only posting in the history of SFSTORY, or even
all of CSNEWS, to contain a sentence in which 'hopefully' is
used correctly, eh?  I ought to make up some points on that, eh?).
She was experiencing a strange sensation, called sobriety, and
wasn't quite sure she liked it.  Freed from its usual pickling
solution of Upper Canada Rebellion ale, her mind was omce again
working keenly.  Although the ultimate problem with DVAX5 was
undoubtedly that it had been invented and programmed by men, the
situation at hand was not one to call to mind her obsession with
the evils of sexism in a male-dominated university system: it
was much bigger than that.

She made and discarded several plans before deciding on a two-pronged
attack.  First, she would build a tea-powered message capsule from
scraps of tea and other odds and ends around Dar's lab and send a
warning to Linda, who as the only female Paladin was clearly the
most suitable person to get it, about the existence of backup
files for DVAX5 disguised as a Sting CD.  Then she'd use the ABPSARI
to visit the authors-only altiverse, warn the other authors that
a projectile shaped like a brown betty tea pot was on its way toward
Camelot Central, and then she'd go find a beer.  It seemed like a
good plan, so she set about trying to find an extra teapot, some
paper, a pencil, a sonic screwdriver, and the other necessary hard-
ware for the message capsule.  In a matter of minutes, it was on
its way, powered by a powerful mixture of Red Rose and Red Zinger
tea.

WILL LINDA AND HER COMPANIONS RECOGNIZE THIS MESSAGE FOR WHAT IT IS?

WILL THE DOCTOR BE ABLE TO GET INTO THE AUTHORS-ONLY ALTIVERSE?

CAN MORGANA BE STOPPED?

WILL WE EVER REACH THE END OF THE DVAX PLOTLINE?

***** Received 13:14:45 on 11/21/88, Posting #    78 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Omegas goes a hunting
From:        The Cowboy (CFW9587 at TNTECH)

     Omegas hung in space, uncaring of the vacuum he was breathing or the
     deadly radiation he was absorbing.  He gazed with idle interest as his
     Classic Coke simultaneously froze and boiled, bursting the bottle and
     surrounding him with brownish flakes of ice.  Then he turned his
     attention to the two devices he carried.

     The mini-ABPSARI and the mini-timetraveller both worked by thoughtwave
     commands.  Omegas had but to think of nothing but Swiss cheese for a
     few seconds to calibrate them to his brainwaves, and then had but to
     think of the time and alterverse he wished to go to and use his
     inherent powers of teleportation.

     He did so.  He pictured in his mind a certain situation and teleported
     himself there.

     ---------------

     St. Peter and Time Agent 357 flashed into existance in Central Park.
     Casually ignoring the rapists, muggers, and other degenerates they had
     scared into revealing themselves, they pulled out sophisticated
     instruments and began scanning.

     "No reading of him here," muttered 357.

     "One down, infinity minus one to go," replied St. Peter.

     Leaving the shocked natives to their own devices, they teleported away
     to alterverse #2 and continued their search.

     --------------

     Omegas, on the other hand, had just found what he was looking for.  He
     materialized in the middle of a roaring fire, surrounded by chanting
     beings of a vaguely humaniod variety.  "Blimey!" they shouted.  "Our
     Supreme Leader 'as arrived at last."

     Smugly, Omegas stepped out of the fire and into the crowd, enjoying
     how they fell back before him.  One of the larger beings approached
     him and prostrated himself before him.

     "Oh great an' powerful Supreme Leader," he grovelled.  "'Ow may we
     serve you, guv'ner?"

     "You may first serve me by ceasing to salivate on my best boots,"
     snarled Omegas as he sent the being across the temple with a
     well-placed kick.  But soon, Omegas mellowed out a bit, had his new
     subjects bring him some of their best wine, and began to plan future
     conquests.  Then, he noticed that one of his new subjects wasn't
     grovelling like the rest.

     "You there!" he shouted.  "What's your name?"

     The being he pointed to walked over to him.  "I be Maldor, yer
     Lordship.  What will ye be wanting?"

     "Why aren't you grovelling like the rest?" he asked.

     "Well, yer Lordship, it be like this.  I ken yer no more than a fake,
     and that yer 'ere from another universe to launch us inta a deadly war
     wi' all of 'umanity."

     "And you think you can stop me?" Omegas asked, rising to his full
     height and looking Maldor straight in the belt buckle.

     Maldor chuckled.  "O'course not, yer Lordship.  I just want t'be yer
     second in command, so's I can get lucky wi' some o' the women-folk.
     Not t' mention filthy rich."

     "Good," chuckled Omegas.  "Take these plans and begin construction at
     once."

     Maldor looked at the plans and scowled up his near-human face.  "But,
     yer Lordship, I dinna ken.  Whot's it's all for?"

     "Those are the plans for the mini-ABPSARI.  With a few thousand of
     those powering your primitive weapons, all of the alterverses will
     fall before our wrath."  Omegas began chuckling wildly, and casually
     conjured up a television set and began watching Andy Griffith Show
     reruns.

     WILL 357 AND ST. PETER FIND OMEGAS BEFORE HE COMPLETES HIS PLANS?

     WHY IS OMEGAS ALL OF A SUDDEN BENT ON MULTIVERSAL DOMINATION?

     WHY ARE MY ENTRIES SO WEIRDLY FORMATTED?

     For the answers to none of these questions, read the next exciting
     episode of SFSTORY!

***** Received 21:44:08 on 11/21/88, Posting #    79 *****
=========================================================================
From:        (PH217AJL at ITHACA)

     The dont-try-it-authors-only alterverse was getting a might crowded, the
author thought as he walked discreetly past the swimming pool, Lord Sabre,
Cowboy, etc. etc.  He walked up a garden path, along the Cliffs of Insanity
(why not) overlooking the Dire Straits and the Bleak Shore, and found this
locale more soothing to the spirit than had been the pool.  Strangely enough,
a few stars overhead suddenly went supernova, providing light.  He sat down,
pushed aside a large flat rock, uncovered a writing tablet and pen, and started
to doodle.  He was in another jam.  After hemming and hawing for several
postings (a time-honored technique seldom used profitably, especially when
writing for an insatiable audience), he had gotten his characters where he
had first imagined their being several weeks prior.  But now it was time to
move on, stretch the borders of imagination, voyage into new regions of thought,
have them see strange and wonderful things, experience dramatic situations, make
some pointed social commentary, and wind up victorious or not, depending on the
results desired.  Possibly he would succeed in winning a larger audience, or
at least keep the current one happy.  Pleasing other authors had so far been
fairly easy, but then this is nearly always so: the authors almost always told
each other that they loved the other person's work (a quite self-supporting
and smug lot) and often times, they actually did.  But while not spending
so much time as to endanger final exams in three weeks, the author was scraping
his cranium for ideas for the next bit with Ian and Janice that would work,
and some were finally surfacing.  As usual, they weren't very well-worked out,
but then they were invariably used anyway, worked out as best as possible.
After a long gaze into the infinite void above, he began to write.

WHY ARE THERE MORE TYPOS THAN USUAL?  (Because I'm mailing this rather than
                                       sending it)

WHAT IS IN STORE FOR IAN AND JANICE, AND WHEN WILL WE HEAR ABOUT IT??

IS THERE EVER ACTUALLY GOING TO BE ANY WILD DEBAUCHERY, OR IS THE AUTHOR JUST
PLAYING A JOKE ON US?

WILL THIS LETTER GO TO CSNEWS OR UMNEWS?  ONCE SENT, WILL IT ARRIVE?

IF IT DIDN'T, YOU AREN'T READING THIS

***** Received 15:56:29 on 11/28/88, Posting #    81 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     The Cowboy takes a break
From:        The Cowboy (CFW9587 at TNTECH)

In the author's alterverse, a rectangle of black appeared.  A large man
stepped through it, brushing rainbow colors from his beared.  He adjusted
his backpack and started towards the pool.  Upon reaching it, he drew a
large handgun and skillfully melted the ice surrounding the crocodile and
pointed it south.  Do crocodiles fly south for the winter? he wondered.  He
drained and covered the pool, and put his favorite lounge chair in a nearby
shack, not really caring if it would still be there when he returned.

He then turned west and began walking past the Dire Straits.  Eventually, he
came to the woods.  He had never seen them, but he knew they had to be
there.  For he was an author, and in the author's alterverse things changed
themselves to fit his desires.  The Cowboy stopped to drink from his canteen,
and decided it was not unheard of for a stray horse to be wondering about.
He sank his mind into the inner workings of the alterverse around him and
shifted things; from possible to probable, from probable to actual.  He made
friends and mounted the albino mare, riding at a slow trot into the mountains
that had not existed a moment before.

The night sky overhead slowly lost it's confusing array of stars, novae,
nebulae, and obscene constellations.  A localized glow slowly appeared
behind the mountain.  Soon, a orange-red sun would rise, shining a normal
light upon this portion of the author's alterverse.  Though he rode through
virgin timber, a well-travelled path materialized behind him, clearly
marking his way.  He looked back to admire his handy-work, and noticed the
wolves stalking him.  Good going, Cowboy, he thought.  Concentrate on the
forest and forget about the wildlife.

He spurred his horse to a gallop, and the red-eyed wolves pursued.  He dug
his mind into the fabric of reality around him.  Shift.  Yellow-eyed.
Shift.  Green.  Shift.  Gone.  Later, when he had regained his breath, he
shifted the mountains slightly, giving them gentler slopes and fewer jagged
peaks.  He did it slowly, so as not to spook the horse.  Animals aren't as
good at lying to themselves as humans, he recalled.

He travelled onward, noticing the empty valley below.  By the time he
reached the bottom, it would no longer be empty.  He allowed the horse to
pick it's own way down the mountain, wondering if it were too late in the
year for songbirds.  He decided it was, so instead willed a gentle snow by
nightfall.  He reached the valley, no longer empty (I told you so), and rode
up to the log cabin nestled in the woods.  He released to horse, knowing it
would stay close.

He entered the cabin and reached into his backpack.  He pulled out a portable
computer and placed it on the desk.  Perhaps he would use it to post over
the holiday season.  Perhaps not.  He needed the rest.  He fed the fire,
being careful not to throw sparks on his bearskin rug.  He pulled out a book
and settled into a very comfortable chair, and suddenly got that wonderful
feeling you get when it feels like you're the only person in the world.

The phone rang.

"Hello?" he asked, wondering who had this number.  Not even his mother had
this number.  He listened.

"Sure, Scott, come on over.  Bring Nathan, too.  Invite those new guys, and
see if Sabre's up to a little party."

Laughter from the other end.

"That's right.  We deserve a little celebration, with finals and all that.
And see if you can find Beth."

A query.

"Well, there aren't too many armadilloes that howl at the moon, so she
should be pretty easy to find.  Right.  See you then."

The Cowboy hung up the phone and looked about him.  He carefully stowed the
bearskin rug in the closet, and spread plastic wrap over his favorite chair.
He went to the well-stocked bar and poured himself a drink, picked up his
other phone, and dialed.

"Dr. Young?  Party in thirty minutes.  Lots of sexist remarks for you to
jump all over.  My place, right.  See if you can get ahold of Debbie on your
way down."

Oh, well, he thought.  I can start resting tomorrow.

***** Received 22:36:53 on 11/29/88, Posting #    82 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Omegas reveals his plans
From:        The Cowboy (CFW9587 at TNTECH)

Deep within the heart of an unlisted alterverse Omegas, once again immortal
and very powerful, lounged in a lounge chair and watched Andy Griffith
re-runs on a small television.  He flipped the TV off as his number one
henchman Maldor approached.

"Ev'ning, guv'ner," said Maldor.  Omegas stood and returned the greeting,
and once again noticed that even his hulking form was drawfed by those of
the inhabitants of this alterverse.  No matter, he thought.  It's what I
asked for.

"What is your report?" questioned Omegas as he levitated himself so as to be
able to look his general in the eye, as opposed to belt buckle.

"Well, guv," Maldor drawled.  "Those ABPSARI thingies are under
construction.  An' our boffins air kenning 'em ev'n as we speak."  He paused
while Omegas translated this.  "Our defenses 'ave been strengthened, an'
those bonnie lasses you summoned are keeping the troops 'appy."

Omegas nodded his approval.  So easy, he thought.  With the power of the
ABPSARI, which allows one to travel interdimensionally, all one had to do
was decide what kind of place one wanted and look for it, for all realities
existed somewhere.  He would very soon have the necessary power to rule all
alterverses.

"But why would ye want to, guv'ner?" asked Maldor.

"Well, as long as I remember I've had people trying to run my life for me.
Every time I'd try to do something, I'd have somebody over me saying I
couldn't.  So, I quit, went out on my own, and I *still* has people trying
to run my life.  I finally decided the only way I could do what I wanted was
to take over."

"Hmm.  And how will ye take over?"

"As soon as the Destructionvax5 satellite is destroyed, I'll make my move on
Time Central.  TC is the only force that's really equipped to handle a
multiversal attack combined with limited time travell, which is the type of
attack I'm going to launch.  Once they're out of the way, we'll send in our
troops and just seize power everywhere."

"But won't they fight back, guv'ner?"

"Sure, but with your ABPSARI weapons and an unlimited supply of fuel..."  He
paused to jerk his thumb towards the SPAM mines just over the horizon.
"...they don't stand much of a chance.  Excuse me for a minute."

Omegas stood, straightened his leather jacket, and teleported away,
activating his mini-ABPSARI and mini-timetraveller as he did so.  Seconds
later, two forms appeared where he stood.  Maldor stood gaping as they
conferred amongst themselves.

"Not here, either," mumbled Time Agent 357.

"We'll find him sooner or later," mumbled St. Peter as they teleported away,
activating his mini-ABPSARI and mini-timetraveller as he did so.  Seconds
later, one form appeared where they stood.

"Are they gone?" asked Omegas.

"Uh, yeah," answered Maldor.  "Who were they?"

"St. Peter and Time Agent 357," answered Omegas.  "Two of the people who
keep telling me I can't do what I want to do."

WHAT DOES OMEGAS WANT TO DO?
WHO IS HE GOING TO DO IT TO?
WHAT IS HE GOING TO DO ONCE HE CAN DO WHAT HE WANTS TO DO?

i don't even know

***** Received 22:37:30 on 11/29/88, Posting #    83 *****
=========================================================================
From:        "Andrew Lewis" (LEWIS at ITHACA)

    "Well, I'll get to that," said Ian Lockheed, Time Police Captain AWOL and
Sting look-alike.  He was talking with the mysterious, beautiful, and extremely
clever Janice, the not famous but superior astro-engineer.  She had somehow
delivered Ian and his ship from the hazardous Twilight Zone and brought them to
her abode in "parts unknown".  They were walking through a maze of damp stone
walled corridors headed for the kitchen.  "First, how did you get me out of
the Zone?" he asked.

    "Trade secret.  But since I designed your ship, that gave me a few
advantages," she replied over her shoulder.  She of course led the way at a
brisk pace, Ian following as best he could in his still slightly stiff (for
tongue-twisters everywhere) condition.

    "Well then, why wasn't I killed or driven insane?"

    "Once you entered the outer regions of the Zone, you were in, shall we say,
my sphere of influence, and not affected by the perversity of the Zone in the
normal way.  You did experience some of the hallucinogenic effects, but most
of what you remember was again my doing.  You weren't in any real danger."

    "Then we're not actually in the Zone?" Ian asked.  They had arrived at
a spherical room with two winding staircases leading up and down.  Janice
started up one of them.  "Wait there..." she said, disappearing quickly.  Ian
waited somewhat impatiently.  After a few seconds, Janice returned with a small
hand-sized comm unit.  She handed it to him.

    "Here's a transceiver.  It will keep you in touch with The Sun's computer,"
she said, "or with me, depending.  And no we are nowhere near the Zone.  Not in
the sense that you're asking," she smirked.

    "Well, can't you give me a little hint?" he asked.

    "Not until I can trust you further, Ian." she said.  "You still haven't told
me why you came to see me," she added.

    Ian looked carefully at Janice.  She looked back, serious but not hostile.
"Allright, I'll try."  He took a deep breath.  "While I was going through some
reports after the battle at Time Central, I was...attacked."

    "By what?" Janice was a little suprised but, following the adage of appear-
ing wise by remaining silent, did so.

    "It's hard to describe.  A mental attack, propegated from a great distance
away from Time Central." Ian looked Janice in the eyes.  "It was terrifying."

    Time Police, while not significantly braver than most, are equipped to deal
with mental attacks.  "It broke through your training?" she asked with some
dismay.  The training she was referring to was commonly thought to be almost
unbreakable.

    "Yes.  I eventually was able to remove myself from local reality and fight
it off, but before I did, the, um, entity spoke to me.  It told me that this
was its announcement of an invasion of the alterverses."  Ian paused.  "Janice,
you can't imagine what that experience was LIKE.  The effect such an alien
would have on the masses..."

    "Yes," she nodded, "but what does this have to do with an aerospace
engineer?"

WHAT INDEED?

IS THIS SUDDEN DEVELOPMENT JUST ANOTHER PLOTLINE HEADED FOR ARMAGEDDON, JUST
LIKE DR. YOUNG'S, COWBOY'S, ETC.?

DOES WATCHING "UNSOLVED MYSTERIES" LATE AT NIGHT IN AN ISOLATED HOUSE IN THE
WOODS LEND UNDERSTANDING TO THIS DEVELOPMENT? (yes)

THE ANSWERS ARE ALREADY HERE, BUT HAVEN'T TRAVELED IN TIME TO THIS DATE AS YET

***** Received 22:55:10 on 11/30/88, Posting #    84 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Wherein Bubba and the gang return to space
From:        Nathan Irwin (UD140680 at NDSUVM1)

     Nathan entered Alterverse # 233 with a flourish.  Dressed in a
Renaissance costume and brandishing a Tenor recorder, he swept into
the Authors' Alterverse with the pomp and showmanship that only a
Theatre Arts major can master.

     "Wes Hale, Lords and Ladies!" he called out, "Anybody home?"

     "Only us peasants." replied Scott McGuire, a fellow author,
"How'd the Madrigal Dinner go?"

       "Not bad," said Nathan, "We sang very well, and the sack theater
was GREAT, but the audience was small, and I bummed an ankle, and I
think...."

     "Yeah, right." Scott cut him off, "Why don't you just get to work
on your next posting, okay?"

     "CERTAINLY, Milord," Nathan bellowed, and proceeded to strut about
the room, looking for a terminal.

     Scott sighed.  It was going to be one of THOSE days.  Again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

     "Well, boys, there she is: The HMS Homeward Bound.  She's all
yours now."

     Time Police Chief Sean Landorian, Bubba Wojohowitz, Louie Stevens,
and Billy Guardian were standing in the Time Central hangar, admiring the
sleek, silver starship.  Sean had taken a break from all his paperwork,
in order to arrange a proper send-off for the trio of Earthlings, and
Bubba, Louie, and Billy were looking forward to their impending return to
high space.

     "Thanks very much, Sean," said Bubba, "but where's Zark?  I sort of
assumed he'd be here to see us off."

     "Your former comrade is in the Time Central hospital annex, where
he is being prepared for his upcoming surgery.  Sometime tomorrow, we
hope to surgically disconnect his brain from DEATHWISH at VIGILANTEVM, the
omniviolent superaccount that controlled him.  After that, we hope to
reattatch some of his dormant brain cells.  After all, he's been running
on only *four* for the last year."

     "That's RIGHT.  I'd forgotten." exclaimed Bubba.

     "Yes.  Well, you'd better be going." said Sean, "After all, I've got
quite a lot of paperwork to catch up with.  But before you go, I'd like
to present you with these."  With those words, the Billy Dee Williams
lookalike pulled three Time Police badges out of a pocket of his uniform.

     "What are THOSE?" asked Billy Guardian.

     "These are badges," Sean replied, "that identify you three as
official Time Police Deputies.  Wear them in good health."

     "Gee, Landorian, I don't know what to say." said Bubba.

     "How about 'Goodbye'?" snarled Sean.

     With a sigh, Billy, Louie, and Bubba collected their badges, boarded
the HMS Homeward Bound, and blasted off.

     "Bloody civilians," Sean muttered to himself, "keeping me from my
paperwork.  As if I didn't have ENOUGH to worry about, with Ian running
off, and Varnyloop disappearing, and 357 doing God-knows-what, and......"

     Sean's voice faded into the distance as he trudged to his office
(which was by now engulfed with paperwork).

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

     "So, what do we do NOW?" Billy asked of his partners.

     "I dunno," Bubba responded, "I guess we wait for Nathan to decide
what he wants to DO with us."  With that, Bubba pressed a button on the
navigator's console labelled, "Proceed to new plotline and get us into
trouble."

     And so, the HMS Homeward Bound roared off into Hyperspace.

WILL NATHAN COME UP WITH ANOTHER PLOTLINE ANYTIME SOON???

IF HE DOES, WILL IT BE ANY *GOOD*???

WHEN WILL SEAN LANDORIAN GET ALL THAT PAPERWORK DONE???

AND WHAT's GONNA HAPPEN TO ZARK??

Hey, don't ask ME.  If I knew, I'd TELL you.

***** Received 11:34:55 on 12/05/88, Posting #    86 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Where was Noah when the lights went out....
From:        Dr Abigail Ann Young (YOUNG at vm.epas.utoronto.ca)

The Doctor looked around the pool area with disdain.  There were
no authors in view, just a few dead leaves floating on the
surface of the water.  The sky was looking quite appalling:
surely those colours couldn't be natural.  From a distant
pavillion floated the sound of a stereo, which probably marked
the location of the convalescent Lord Sabre.  She decided not to
disturb him, but to leave a note on the table by the pool.

     She removed a pen from her pocket and felt in her pockets
for paper.  As usual she had none.  She remembered that authors
had wide powers in this altiverse and thought her position as the
imaginative projection of an author's psyche might allow her to
conjure up a sheet of paper.  She concentrated.  A sheet of paper
appeared as if being rolled off invisible rollers and fell on the
table top.  It was a piece of blank sheet music....  The Doctor
shrugged: it would have to do.  After all, she'd been trying to
produce note paper.  Someone here must have quite a sense of
humour, eh?

     Having completed her note, she looked about for something to
anchor it on the table.  There was an empty Coca-Cola Classic
bottle on an inflatable duck tray bobbing in the pool.  That will
do, she thought.  I've warned them about MORGANA and the Sting CD
here and also sent a warning to the paladin Linda.  Dar will just
have to take care of MORGANA and the boys, eh.

     Now it was time to go look for an ale.  The ill effects of
sobriety were getting more pronounced: she'd almost drunk a cup
of tea before leaving Dar's lab.  Surely there must be an
altiverse whre she could be safe from MORGANA and get a cold
brew....  She set her mini-ABPSARI [(c) Bing von Spleen] and
flickered out with a pleasing effect rather like the transporter
from the original Star Trek.

     She reappeared in a dark, confined, rectagular space which
smelled like Javex bleach.  Her keen powers of reasoning told her
that this wasn't a pub.  She felt around, knocked over a mop, and
put her foot in a pail of sophisticated design.  She must have
materialised in a broom closet.  She felt for the door, but the
handle was on the outside.  She turned over the pail (no easy
task in a confined space) and sat down on it.  She might have
known the ABPSARI, being the invention of a man, would fail to
operate at some key time.  She opened the fuel compartment and
examined it by the light of a miniature torch on her keychain.
Aha! She cried, no more SPAM.  Wherever she was, she was stuck
until she could find more.  She began to pound on the cupboard
door....

WHERE IS THE DOCTOR?

WILL SHE MEET SOME OTHER CHARACTERS SO I CAN STOP WRITING
MONOLOGUES?

IF THIS IS THE IMAGINATIVE PROJECTION OF MY PSYCHE, SHOULDN'T I
SEEK PROFESSIONAL HELP?

WILL THE AUTHORS GET THE DOCTOR'S NOTE?  WILL LINDA GET THE NOTE
IN THE TEA POT?  WILL SABRE RECOVER?

WILL JOHN MARRY MARCIA, OR WILL HE REGAIN HIS MEMORY AT LAST AND
RETURN TO MARY AND THEIR SIX CHILDREN?

For the answers to few if any of these questions, stay tuned to
.... SFSTORY!

***** Received 19:19:32 on 12/06/88, Posting #    87 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Slaving away
From:        "Andrew Lewis" (LEWIS at ITHACA)

    The scene never changes.  A rocky mine, toiling humanoids, badly
malnourished, pulling carts full of rocks around or knocking them out
of the walls with antiquated mining tools; supervising robots which dealt
out frequent warnings and punishment to those who didn't work quickly
enough.  Here the robots were also somewhat humaniod in design, but not
aesthetically designed in any way.  They were short, metallic, quick,
and particularly strong and programmed to be vicious.  The humanoids were
tall, thin, gaunt, and only occasionally rebellious.
    "gET TO WORK, sLAVE!!" one of the guard roborts yelled at one slave
who was not working.  While several of his nearby comrades were industriously
loading debris into a cart, he was cleaning his nails.
    "Yes of course, O Lord," he said, putting his improvised nail-file into
his only tunic pocket.  He started tossing rocks into the cart, using the
classic hook-shot technique used by Larry Bird (whom he didn't know of).
The robot rewarded his impetuosity with a quick and brutal electric shock
from its stun gun (built into each forearm, quite accurate).  The slave
convulsed for a second or two, recovered, grinned at the robot, and
resumed work with a more subdued attitude.  The robot left him to punish
other slaves.
    "Don't do that, Zeke!  They'll kill you!" hissed another slave.
    "Relax Tsecad!" Zeke muttered, continuing with his work.  "Just keep
working until the other robots are out of sight!"
    Tsecad, a smallish, hairy sort of humanoid slave, picked up her axe and
resumed her attack on the tunnel wall.  Keeping clear of the sharp point of
the axe, Zeke cleared the rubble away into his cart.  A few other slaves
(who shall forever remain nameless) were wheeling the carts away and bringing
empty ones back for refill, or doing other mining tasks.  In all about twenty
slaves were working on one particular section of the tunnel visible in our
narrative perspective, guarded by three robots.  The robots took turns in'
gratuitously harassing the most obvious slaves.  Eventually, two of the robots
left, running back up the tunnel to the surface.  The lone robot continued
the routine of "punishment" on its own.
    The slaves began sneaking covert glances at Zeke, waiting for a signal.
After a few minutes of waiting, he finally yelled "NOW!!" and the group en masse
charged the robot armed with their mining equipment.  The robot managed to stun
four of the slaves into convulsions before Tsecad managed to smash its power
pack.  The robot finally collapsed.  Without so much as a cheer, several of
the remaining slaves ran up the surface-leading end of the tunnel, and knocked
out some of the support struts.  The ceiling promptly collapsed, sealing the
group in.
    "Perfect!" Zeke exclaimed.  "We've only got a few minutes before they dig
us out, so hurry!"  Tsecad and another slave hurriedly uncovered a programmed
instruction module from a recess in the tunnel wall, and installed it in the
damaged robot's undamaged 'brain', throwing the original module into a cart.
Once the robot was repaired, it would act on the new, slave-programmed, instr-
uctions.  The convulsing slaves finally stopped convulsing and lapsed into
sleep.  The other slaves dragged them over to the rockfall from the ceiling
and carefully covered them up with debris, to give their condition a less
dangerous apparent cause.

WHAT DOES ALL OF THIS HAVE TO DO WITH IAN AND JANICE?

ARE WE LEADING INTO ANOTHER ELABORATION ON THE PLOTLINE?

WILL IAN EVER MEET UP WITH ANY OF THE OTHER REGULAR SFSTORY CHARACTERS, OR
IS HE NOW DOOMED TO LEAD A LIFE OF ONLY SOCIALIZING WITH JANICE'S FRIENDS?

HOW DID A BUNCH OF SLAVES WITH NO COLLEGE EDUCATION MANAGE TO PROGRAM A
ROBOT?

WILL THE EDUCATION OF THE AUTHOR INTERFERE WITH THE TIMING OF THE NEXT POSTING
OF THIS PLOTLINE?  (exams start in two weeks...)

***** Received 14:16:27 on 12/07/88, Posting #    88 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     SHE KNOWS WHAT SHE WANTS
From:        "Andrew Lewis" (LEWIS at ITHACA)

    To Recapitulate:  Ian has left his job as temporary Chief of Time Central,
much to the annoyance of his co-Chief Sean Landorian (who now is stuck with the
paperwork and still no secrataries from Club Nympho to "assist" him) because of
a mysterious mental attack from unknown alien who claims to be preparing to
launch an all-out attack on the alterverses.  He tries to find Janice, an astro-
Engineer of great intellect, intolerance for almost anyone not as smart as she
(almost everyone who has ever existed in her opinion), and green hair, thinking
that she can somehow aid him in his endeavors to combat this strange alien.  He
gets stuck in The Twilight Zone in the process, only to find himself rescued by
the same Janice and taken to her abode in an unknown location.  Here he tells
her of his plight.
    Meanwhile, in a nearby mining complex, some of the slave force has over-
powered one of the guard robots and reprogrammed it for reasons (also) unknown.
    Meanwhile, zillions of light years away, Cybrenita, the 18 year old ruler
of the planet Zynchrony-Beta, has finally lost her virginity.  The population
of Z-B rejoices and Cybrenita declares a week-long vacation.
    Meanwhile, Quooth, Floyd Cobolt, Sean Landorian, G.X.P. Varnyloop, 4T5,
and Dan Quayle have done nothing in weeks due to author/media neglect.  A poll
of the Affiliated National Drunken Yuppies (ANDY) has declared that this is
an unacceptable situation and that it must be rectified immeadiately or that
organization will petition certain authors to write horribly plot-twisting
intrusions which will so mangle the alterverses as we know them that the mess
resulting will never be straightened out.  Enough said.

    "What does that have to do with you?" Ian asked in disbelief.  Janice was
getting callous these days, he thought.  "Well, aren't you also an expert in
psi-technology?"

    "A bit rusty, and I see where this is leading..."

    "Janice, you've got to help me.  Omegas is still on the run and 357 is too
busy chasing him to be of any help.  I can't get anything out of Heaven and
The Author (Ian paused reverently as a omninous chord suddenly echoed through
the stone tunnels of Janice's home) has locked me off from the rest of
civilization.  You *have* to help!"

    "Well, maybe I've got problems of my own!" Janice said sharply.  "Hey, you
up there," she called to The Author, without any pretension of subservance,
"I've got my own rebellion!  You gave me that two years ago, and now after all
of this work you want me to pack it up?  It's taken this long to get them to
captureone of their oppressors, I can't leave them now!"  she shouted.

    The Author maintained a godlike silence.

    Janice cursed profoundly and kicked the wall.  Ian jumped back as the
particular section of wall she kicked was six inches from his left ear.
"Time Police! *(&$$#&)&! them all! *#*!&(* authors $*&*(&ing up my life," etc.
Janice ranted, pacing around the room.  She turned and stomped off down the
down-flight of stairs, shouting obscene curses at The Author as she went.
Ian followed her.

    The room they entered was a wardrobe as far as Ian could tell: fairly large
and filled with racks of clothes and various other things such as spacesuits and
tools.  Janice was ignoring Ian, who was trying to get her to quiet down.

    "Janice, it's not a good idea to provoke..."

    "Tin plated puppet with delusions of Godhood!  Get a life!" she shouted.
Suddenly, her blouse disappeared, leaving her exposed to Ian's shocked but
admiring eyes.  She turned a little red but this latest result from The Author
really ticked her off.  "Damn chauvanistic moron!  *#$**#)( funny." she grabbed
another blouse from a nearby rack and threw it on.  It promptly disappeared too.
She glared at Ian and pulled another one on.  This time her pants vanished,
leaving her flourescent blue undergarments visible.

   "All right, strip me naked, I don't care!  I'm not leaving!" she shouted.
"You're not going to manipulate me like this, you know!"

   Ian would have been enjoying seeing Janice like this, but the nearness
of Author Intervention made him nervous.  So he kept quiet and tried to act
as though he was accustomed to having old acquaintances stripped in front of
him while he was trying to convince them to help him out.  He wasn't too
successful at this.

   "All right..." The Author finally said.  "Ian, it's up to you.  Stay with
Janice and help her, or save the Alterverses.  Your choice."

WHAT WILL IAN DECIDE TO DO??

DOES THIS AUTHOR INTERVENTION VIOLATE THE JEFF SMITH ACCORDS??

WILL THE OTHER AUTHORS PICK UP THE SLACK AND RESUME POSTING??

IS THIS THE END OF THIS POSTING??

   "Well..." Ian couldn't easily decide.  All he had to go on was the
immediate personal experience of being attacked by the alien on one hand, and
the only person who could help him refusing to do so on the other.  It was a
difficult choice.

   "Janice, I don't think that you're being manipulated nearly as much as I
am.  But I'll help you," he finally decided.  Saving the Alterverses would
have to wait for now.

   Janice had reclothed herself while he was thinking, and The Author had
not been teasing her in the meantime.  Now she calmed down a bit.  "What makes
you want to do that?" she asked him.

   "The threat of this alien is quite severe.  But I can't do anything about it
without your help.  So if I help you with this problem of yours, will you help
me?"

   Janice frowned.  "Yes, I'll do it.  BUT..." she shouted at the ceiling again,
"I'm not doing this because of anything you said or did!  So go $**& off!"  She
sighed after a few seconds of silence and lack of other interference from The
Author.  "What a pest.  I thought that he had stopped bothering me for good."

   "The Author?" Ian asked in disbelief.

   "Yes, he's done this sort of thing before, many times.  You see, Ian," she
began, as she led him back up the stairs, "I wasn't always this intellegent.
I had to do...certain things for him for this reward.  It wasn't all what you're
thinking, but it was insulting after a while.  So I demanded my freedom, and
he stuck me in this alterverse.  A whole universe to muck around in, as long
as I didn't venture out of it.  A fair bargain."  she said as they finally
got to the kitchen.  "Now it seems that I can take a vacation after we solve
my problem."

   "Great!  So what's this problem of yours?" Ian asked.  "We'll whip it off
in a few days, and be on our way."

   "We have to help the slaves of Zynchrony Alpha overthrow the robotic
government and establish normal diplomatic relations with Zynchrony Beta or
this Alterverse will disintigrate within two months."

SO JUST HOW AND WHEN DID IAN AND JANICE MEET??

WAS THIS THE ISSUE WITH THE EXPLICIT SEXISM??

OR IS MORE TO COME??

I HOPE TO KNOW SOON AND POST EVEN SOONER.

***** Received 14:53:06 on 12/08/88, Posting #    89 *****