[MiSTied] 'The Greatest Gift of All,' part 2
bookw...@my-dejanews.com
starts scrolling.]
>
>
>
> The Greatest Gift of All
Tom: Santa's sleigh overturning in front of your yard?
Crow [singing song from 'Tormented']: And a Supersoaker 202...
Mike: Getting out of reading this story?
>
>
>
> by
> Sarah Heiner
Crow: You think she's got a nice hind--
Mike: Crow! C'mon, that is *such* a stupid joke!
Crow: Well, it's funnier than calling her Sara Tucker...
Tom: Or Sara Lee...
Crow: Or Sahara Desert...
Tom: Or Heiner Forty-Niner...
Crow: Or Cousin It.
Mike and Tom: Huh?
Crow: Take a look at her web page later.
>
>
>
> Honors English 11
Tom: Honors English? We might actually see some proper grammar and
spelling!
> May 18, 1988
Crow: Hey, almost time for her 10-year reunion. Do you think she'll go?
Mike: If it's anything like the one you guys gave me, I rather doubt it.
>
>
>
>
> Hannah dumped her bag on the bunk
Crow: ...and went to sleep in a dresser drawer. She's a might confused.
> and sat down beside
> it.
[All wince.]
Tom: Misattribution right out of the gate. Guess I was wrong.
Mike: Now, now. It could be the exception, rather than the rule. I hope.
> She looked around the room, frowning slightly at the
> sterility of the place.
Crow: She's bunking in surgery?
> Blank white walls rose to a blank
> white ceiling. There was a white dresser with empty white
> drawers pulled out.
[All singing from 'Mr. B. Natural']: White, we're white, we're really, really
white...
> Nothing to show that anyone could live
> there.
Tom: Well, yes, oxygen does tend to be invisible.
> Still frowning, Hannah dug through her bag and
> brought out a notebook and pencil. Flipping through a few
> pages, she came to a blank sheet and began to write.
>
>
> May 6, 2243
>
> Dear Diary,
Crow: If there's one word about Isabella, I'm out of here!
> The _Starfinder_ was commissioned today.
Tom: Almost as bad--it's a young Jean-Luc Picard!
Mike: No, that was _Stargazer_.
Tom and Crow: Fan--
Mike: Oh, *don't* start that again.
> She's
> a beautiful ship, all graceful lines and smooth
> surfaces.
Mike: Boy, if the *ship* in this story is two-dimensional, what does that say
about the characters?
> I hope I'll remember enough of it to
> paint a good picture. I also hope that this assign-
> ment will be all I've hoped it to be.
Crow [singing]: Be/ all that you've hoped to be!
> It will be
> exciting to be on this ship, to go to unknown places,
> see unknown things,
Mike: Do unknown deeds...
Crow: Speak unspeakable things...
> maybe be a part of history. It's
> also wonderful to finally escape Minas,
Tom: Isn't that a Cretan king?
Crow: I thought it was a muffler.
> to get away
> from those narrow-minded, hard-hearted people...
Mike: Ah, it's in Iowa.
>
> "Hello!"
[All]: Gah!
Mike: Don't *do* that!
> Hannah jumped up and spun around,
Tom [singing]: Ya gotta jump down, spin around, pick a bale a' cotton...
> dropping her note-
> book. A girl of about her own age stood in the doorway,
> tall and with a graceful air.
Mike: Strange perfume she's wearing.
> She had honey-blond hair and
Crow: ...honey-sticky skin?
> dark blue eyes, and was as easily beautiful as Hannah had
> dreamed of being. She was staring at the pencil Hannah was
> still clutching.
Tom: Hannah dreamed of driving the pencil, like a stake, through the other
girl's heart...
Mike: You guys seize any opportunity for a dark comment, don't you?
Crow: Hey, we've been doing it for ten years. Why stop now?
> "What's that?" the strange girl asked, smiling, with a
> laugh hanging in her voice.
Tom: Funny, I thought that was called a uvula.
> "What's the matter?" Hannah snapped,
Mike: ...her tether and killed a coolie!
Crow: And he complains about *our* comments?
> irritated at the
> interruption. "Haven't you ever seen a pencil before?"
> "Of course, I have. I just didn't think anyone used
> them any more."
Tom: 'Cause it's the future, ya see...heh...it's *funny*!
> She moved forward, holding out her hand.
Crow [as girl]: Go on, take it. I've got plenty.
Tom: So she's a Hecatonchire?
Crow: Why not?
> "My name is Mandy. I'm your roommate."
> "I'm Hannah." She shook the proffered hand, a little
> shame-faced at her earlier outburst.
Mike: Maybe they should play Pictionary instead.
> "That one's my bunk?" Mandy floated over to the bed
Crow: They're either sleeping in the swimming pool, or someone turned off
gravity.
> on
> the other side of the room and immediately began to unpack.
> "We may as well tell each other our bad habits first. For-
> warned is forearmed.
Tom: And forearmed is foreknown, and foreknown is foreplayed.
> Let's see...I always talk too much,
[All]: We noticed!
> I
> sometimes snore, and I leave my books in any and every
> available space.
Mike: In kitchen cabinets?
Tom: In clothes hampers?
Crow: In toilet tanks?
> How about you?"
> Hannah laughed. She felt herself opening a little to
> Mandy.
Mike: Just enough for her refrigerator light to turn on.
> "I leave anything of mine anywhere,
Crow: Why am I suddenly envisioning 42 pairs of pantyhose and 5 bras
hanging up in the bathroom?
> I listen to
> classical music at weird hours in the morning, although that
> might not apply much here, and I'm vastly irritated if any-
> one interrupts me while I'm writing or painting.
Tom: So are these two passengers or crew?
Mike: Ya got me.
Tom: Either way, how could they be allowed 100 pounds of personal effects on
this ship, whatever it is?
Mike: Maybe they have replicators, like Star Trek.
Crow: Mike, no self-respecting sf story has replicators.
> How's that
> for a confessional?"
Mike: Wow, the Catholic Church has really relaxed its standards.
> "Good enough for me." Mandy grinned. Hannah did not
> miss her perfect set of teeth.
Crow: Nope, she punched those teeth right down Mandy's throat.
> "Attention." The ship's communications crackled to
> life.
Tom: Apparently they have sentient PA systems, too.
> "All yeomen report to crew lounge three for assign-
> ments. All yeomen to crew lounge three."
Mike: And at least three crew lounges. What is this, 'Love Boat 2243?'
[All shudder.]
> "That's us, fellow slave. Let's go." Mandy linked her
> arm through Hannah's. "What post did you ask for?"
Tom: Emily Post?
Mike: Flora Poste?
Crow: Disgruntled postal worker?
> "Communications. That's another one of my hobbies."
> "You sure have a lot of 'em. I really don't have one,
> except for reading. I asked for Quartermaster.
Tom: She wants to work in a video arcade?
> Should be
> easy to get that. Not many ask for it.
Crow: Next on Unsolved Mysteries, missing subjects of sentences. It's a more
wide-spread problem than you might think.
> I heard that a lot
> of people asked for Comm.
Tom: COOOOOMMMMM!
Mike: If only Ricardo Montalban was in this fic...
> There's going to be a lot of dis-
> appointments."
> "Not for me," Hannah thought, with a confident smile.
Crow: ...fingering the packet of arsenic in her pocket.
Tom: So what branch of the military is this, anyway?
Mike: Well, let's see. We've got a ship, yeomen...
Tom: People floating...
Crow: Slave labor...
Mike: Must be the navy.
>
> An hour later, Hannah stalked back into her room.
Tom [as Elmer Fudd]: Be vewy, vewy qwiet. I'm hunting woommates.
> The
> automatic door moved shut silently behind her, irritating
> her still further.
Crow: Yeah, silent efficiency is *so* irritating.
Mike: Maybe she prefers that all the doors have a cheerful and sunny
disposition.
> She wished that the ship had old-fash-
> ioned doors,
Tom: Well, some of their songs might be a bit dated, but I'd hardly call The
Doors old-fashioned.
> doors that she could slam.
Crow: So she slam-danced instead.
> She stalked over to
> her bunk and snatched up her diary and pencil.
>
> I can't believe what they've done to me.
Mike: Made you dress in a mini-skirt and knee-high boots?
Tom: Mike, this is text. What difference would it make if she was wearing
that?
Mike: Hey, a guy can dream, can't he?
> They
> assigned me to Engineering! Engineering!! The one
> place I have no knowledge of!
Crow: I'm guessing there's a lot more she doesn't have any knowledge of than
just Engineering.
[Tom snickers.]
> Why? I was by far
> the best person for Communications, from what I saw
> at the Acadamy. It's just not fair!!!
Tom: Oh boy, get the pig's blood ready.
> Well, now
> that I've got that out of my system, I guess I'd
> better unpack.
Mike: Whoa! Now *that's* a mood swing.
>
>
> May 21, 2243
>
> Dear Diary,
> Well, it's been two weeks since we left,
Crow: Don't you just love the meticulous establishment of 'place' in this
story?
> and
> things are beginning to settle down into a pattern.
Tom: ...of screw-rotation symmetry?
Mike: Tom, you do realize none of our readers will understand that, don't you?
Tom: Ah, screw 'em. [snickers]
Mike [turning around a bit]: Folks, I'm afraid Tom's channeling our writer a
bit more than he should. Please bear with us; he should be all right
in a moment.
> Engineering isn't as bad as I thought it would be.
> I finally found out why I was assigned that post.
Mike: Because nobody likes you?
Tom: Everybody hates you?
Crow: You're going to the garden to eat worms?
> Captain Saunders wants his yeomen to learn about as
> many posts as possible, so we'll be able to handle
> any job when we're promoted.
Mike: Ah, the inadvisable 'jacks-of-all-trades' method of training.
Tom: That's what you got at Happy Temps, isn't it?
Mike: To the moon, Tom, to the moon!
> I guess that's a good
> goal, but I still wish I'd gotten Comm.
[Mike and Crow look at Tom.]
Tom: No, I've already used my quota.
> I've finished my painting of the ship.
Mike [as Hannah]: What I'll do with 500 empty cans of steel-gray paint, I
don't know. Crow [as Hannah]: I just hope they don't see the racing
stripes I added.
> It's
> really turned out well, the best picture I've ever
> painted.
Tom: Yes, folks, in case you've forgotten, she *paints* *pictures.*
> I've also managed to find a small room off
> the Engineering Bay to use as a studio.
Mike [as Hannah]: Took me weeks, though--hiding in blinds, tracking it,
analyzing its scat...
Tom and Crow: Ewww!
> Now, at
> least, I won't be interrupted when I'm painting.
> I'm really beginning to like Mandy. She's a
> very nice person. Even though she's absolutely
Crow: Fabulous?
> beautiful,
Crow: Oh.
> she doesn't flaunt it like other girls.
> We get along well as roommates.
Tom [as Hannah]: Still, my sacrifice to Cthulhu must go on as scheduled.
> Our little habits
> and idiosyncracies seem to compliment each other.
Crow: Yeah, I suppose when you both trash your room, who contributes what
doesn't matter.
> It's so different here, compared to home. In
> spite of all the duties,
Mike: Like spit-shining the toilets?
> there's more freedom here
> for me than there ever was on Minas.
Crow [as Mel Gibson]: Frreeeedooooommmm!
> I'm so glad I
> left! It's wonderful here. For instance, yesterday,
> Chief Engineer Vander complimented me on my work! A
> compliment!
Tom: That's what the author needs!
Crow: She's not likely to get one for this story, though.
[Both snicker.]
> I couldn't begin to count
Mike: That I believe.
> how many times,
> on Minas, I should have received a compliment, and
> didn't.
Tom [heavy sarcasm]: Gee, you don't think this could be foreshadowing, do
you?
Mike [same]: Oh no, not in the least.
> Two days later, Hannah was working in the observation
> room.
Mike [as Observer]: Observer, shall we study this girl?
Tom: Brrr. That was *too* good, Mike.
> She loved to go there, away from other people, and
> work in quiet and solitude among the stars.
Crow: Until Sean Penn and Drew Barrymore come to party.
> As she worked on the inventories and red tape so dear
> to bureaucracies,
Tom: Ah, biting social commentary. What fun.
> the alarm klaxon sounded.
> "That thing goes off every day," she thought, grinning.
> "Probably a malfunction. Again. Or maybe an unscheduled
> drill."
Mike: That's right. Always ignore an alarm.
Crow: It's like the car alarms of today.
> As she bent to her work again,
Tom: Better watch that posture.
> her skin began to crawl
> and prickle, as if every hair was standing on end.
Mike: Someone snuck in a Vandegraff machine?
> She
> glanced up and saw a shimmering of the air at the other end
> of the oak table.
Tom: Oh, no! It's a Dryad seeking revenge!
Crow: Geez, Tom, enough with the obscure Greek mythology refs!
> As the swirling air began to solidify,
> she slowly rose from her seat. She stood paralyzed, her
> breathing quicker and more shallow,
Mike [as Hannah]: I'm having chest pains!
Crow: Help is on the way, ma'am.
> as the alien appeared.
Tom: And now, the great magician of our time, David Copperfield!
> The two regarded each other for a long moment.
> "He, or is it she?
[All]: You tell us!
> is quite humanoid," Hannah thought,
> making a mental inventory of the alien's description
Tom: Head?
Mike: Check.
Crow: Body?
Mike: Check.
Tom: Reproductive organs?
Mike: Heh-hem.
Tom: Sorry.
> despite
> the hollow feeling of fear in the pit
Tom: And the pendulum?
> of her stomach. "Very
> thin and tall, shorter legs and a longer torso proportion-
> ally, compared to humans. But the arms and hands! They're
> so shrunken and withered.
Mike: He must have left them in the dryer too long.
> They must be absolutely useless.
> A very human looking face, but with larger ears and no hair.
Crow: If Prince Charles and Patrick Stewart had a child...
> Its eyes are an unusual color, too. A very pale blue."
> The alien was making a similar inventory of Hannah.
Tom: Head?
Crow: Check.
Mike: Body?
Crow: Check.
Tom: Breasts?
Crow: And how! [wolf-whistles]
> "She's awfully overweight. Ought to do something about
> that.
Mike: Wow, Jenny Craig is everywhere.
> Her legs and torso are out of proportion, but I doubt
> she could do anything about that. Her hands are well devel-
> oped, as I'd hoped.
Mike [as alien]: My nose has been itching for five years.
> Her ears are amazingly small. It's a
> wonder she can hear anything. And that disgusting mass of
> hair!
Crow: Oh, *she's* Cousin It.
> How can she stand it? Still, all in all, she's not a
> bad looking female, considering she is an alien."
Tom: Yikes, it's an alien Wilt Chamberlain.
> The silence was becoming unbearable.
Crow: Suddenly, the words 'I seem to be having this tremendous difficulty
with *my* lifestyle.' drifted across the table.
> The alien opened
> his mouth.
Mike: Close your mouth. No cavern tours today.
> To Hannah's ears, the sounds had a musical
> quality, but she could make no sense of them. She frowned
> in perplexity, hoping the alien would understand the expres-
> sion.
Crow: Unfortunately for Hannah, a frown, in the alien's culture, was an
invitation to sex.
> Evidently he did, for the musical sounds broke off.
> For a moment, he seemed lost in thought. Then, the alien
> captured and held her eyes.
Tom: He asked for $500,000 ransom.
> Hannah caught her breath as his
> eyes deepened into a blue-black color.
Mike: It's Lyta Alexander!
> She wanted to move,
> to scream, to do something, but she was held motionless by
> the intensity of those eyes.
Crow: And the pacing of this plot.
> She felt a probing and pushing
> in her mind, as if there was something in there, searching.
> Then the spell was broken,
Tom [singing]: You know darn well/ When you cast your spell/ You can get
your way...
> and she reeled back a step,
> gasping.
Mike: She should get more exercise, if one step leaves her short of breath.
> The alien's eyes had returned to their original,
> pale blue color.
> "A very interesting language you humans have." The
> voice was deep, masculine, and the words rolled slowly off
> his tongue,
Mike [singing]: Rollin'! Rollin'! Rollin' off his to-onge!
Tom: Mike, *please!*
> as if he was tasting every one.
Crow: Words have taste?
Mike: Sure. Nouns taste like fruit, verbs taste like steak, and prepositions
taste like chocolate.
Tom: What do past participles taste like?
Mike: Pepperoni pizza.
Tom and Crow: D'ooh!
> "You...you're...telepathic! you got that out of my
> mind!"
Crow: Dingdingding! We have a winner!
> Hannah was astonished, and even felt a little
> violated. Her mind was her own private possession. The
> alien hadn't even asked permission to look into it!
Tom: Think logically, Hannah! Even if he *had* asked, you wouldn't have
understood him! Sheesh.
> "Yes, we do seem to have evolved more mind powers than
> you right now." There it was, that amused tone of conde-
> scention
Mike [as Observer]: You are as an amoeba to us.
Crow: Mi-ike!
Mike: Sorry.
> Hannah had been half-expecting ever since the alien
> came (teleported?)
[All]: You tell us!
> abord. She seethed inwardly and main-
> tained a stony silence.
Tom: Well, this relationship is off to a *rocky* start!
Crow: Yeah, he's taking his superiority for *granite!*
Mike: I oughta hit you two.
> "Now that I've learned about you, maybe you would allow
> me to go into your mind again and teach you about my
> culture."
Mike [as alien]: We revere the one called Joe Bob Briggs.
> Hannah hesitated. She did not like the thought of
> having her privacy invaded again, but it was a great oppor-
> tunity.
Crow: Yeah, mental rape doesn't happen every day.
Mike: Crow!
> As far as she knew, she was the first human to en-
> counter such an intelligent alien.
Tom: What about all those congressmen the 'Weekly World News' said were
aliens?
Crow: You'd call them intelligent?
> Finally, she nodded.
> She closed her eyes and felt the pushing presence in
> her mind.
Mike: Whoops...pardon me...'scuse me...
Tom: Would you kids quit pushing back there?!
> But this time, it fed information into her mind,
> answering her questions even before she asked them.
Tom: Would you stop that, Radar?
> Wonder
> flooded her mind at the things she saw and heard.
> Finally, the stream of information trickled to a stop.
Mike: Dang. Now I have to go to the bathroom.
Tom: Sorry, Mike. You'll have to hold it a bit longer.
> She opened her eyes and smiled.
> "That was beautiful," she whispered. "You certainly
> have a better life than we do."
> The alien smiled back.
> "In some ways." A shadow quickly passed over his face.
Crow: Boom shadow!
Tom [singing]: I'm being followed by a boom shadow/ Boom shadow, boom
shadow.
> "Before I leave, I'd like to give you a gift. Will you open
> your mind once more?"
Mike: Hannah's Mind. Now open in three convenient locations.
> This time she did not hesitate.
Tom: 'She who hesitates is lost.'
Crow: Yeah? Well, 'look before you leap.'
Tom: Oh yeah? 'Silence is golden.'
Crow: 'The squeaky wheel gets the grease.'
Mike: Uh, guys? The story?
Tom and Crow: Sorry.
> "Of course."
> The now-familiar pressing and probing came again.
Tom: Pressing and probing and pushing and pulling and heaving and--
[Mike whacks Tom onna head.]
Tom: Thanks.
> When
> it retreated, it left something behind.
Crow: Her mind has turned into a lost-and-found.
> For a moment, there
> was a sense of heaviness in her mind,
Mike [as Christopher Lloyd]: There's that word again...heavy.
> but that was quickly
> gone.
> "What is it?" Hannah's hand automatically rose to her
> head.
> "It's a gift to help you realize your greatest desire."
Tom [as alien]: Financial independence. Now, if you'll just look at these
brochures...
> "Thank you," she replied, dazedly. "I wish I had some-
> thing to give you."
> "You will."
Crow: And the company you'll give it to? AT&T.
> The alien began to fade away. "I'll be
> back soon."
[Tom inhales, then...]: Naah. Arnold's been done to death.
> "Oh. That's nice." She stared at the place where he
> had been.
Tom: Mike, Hannah's just had her mind rummaged through by an unknown
alien. Her reaction?
Mike: Dull surprise!
Crow: Dingdingding!
> The door whooshed open,
Mike [as feminine voice on 'Space Ghost: Coast to Coast']: Woosh.
> and the room filled with
> security men and officers.
> "Yeoman!" Captain Saunders strode to her side. "Are
> you all right? What happened?"
> "Oh...oh, captain..."
Crow: Oh captain, my captain...
> Hannah shook her head distract-
> edly. "There was an alien here...extraordinary mind
> powers..."
Tom: Extraordinary body funk, too. Phew!
[Mike sighs.]
> Saunders frowned at her distracted manner.
Crow: I wish someone had distracted the author enough to prevent this story.
Mike: Be fair, Crow. This *was* for a class.
Crow: True...but still...
> "Report to Infirmary for some tests, young lady.
Tom [as Saunders]: Then march straight to your room!
> Then
> go to Conference Room B. We'll be waiting there."
> "Yes, sir." Hannah walked out the door.
Crow: Oh, I'm glad *that* was established. I was so afraid she'd walk out the
window.
> Saunders pressed the communications button.
Crow [as Dr. Forrester]: Push the button, Saunders.
> "Captain to Infirm."
> "Infirm. Dr. Williams here."
Mike: If he's infirm, why is he still in the military?
Tom: Ba-dum chhshh!
> "I'm sending a young yeoman down to you.
Crow [as Dr. Williams]: Thank you, Captain!
> She's acting
> very strangely, very distracted. I'd like you to run a few
> tests...make sure she's all right."
Tom: And, of course, a few simple medical tests will reveal the cause of *any*
mental problem.
Mike: Well, remember, Tom, this *is* the future.
> "Yes, sir. Infirm out."
> "Captain?" Wilson, the navigator, stepped up to
> Saunders.
Mike: Conveniently placed stool, that.
> "Why? Why did the alien go to her?"
Tom [whining kid's voice]: Aww, *Mom!* I wanna be visited by a mind-
reading alien too! Why does *she* get to have all the fun?!
> "That's one of many questions we'll have to ask her."
Tom: Who are you?
Crow: What do you want?
Mike [as he picks up Tom]: How do you avoid bruising yourself on that
head-thingy of Delenn's?
[The lights come up, and they exit to the other room.]
[Commercials.]
[Fade in on main dining room. People are milling around, but mostly heading
to tables. On a stage at one end, a man (looking rather like Paul Chaplin)
heads to a spotlighted microphone. Scattered applause and brief feedback
precede his opening remarks.]
Max: Ladies and gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen, friends, welcome to the
Restaurant at the End of the Universe. I am your host for tonight, Max
Quartlepleen! And I've just come straight from the very, very, very
other end of time, where I've been hosting a show at the Big Bang
Burger Chef, where we had a real wha-ha-hale of an evening, ladies and
gentlemen--you know what I mean! And I will be with you throughout
this tremendous historic occasion--the end of history itself. Now I just
want you to think about that, ladies and gentlemen, friends...thank you.
[Scattered applause] Thank you, thank you...ladies and gentlemen, take
your places at table. The candles are lit, the band is playing, and--
[Bobo walks up and taps Max on the shoulder.]
Bobo: Excuse me, sir, I hate to interrupt--
Max [lower voice]: What, sir?
Bobo [short, embarrassed laugh]: Could you tell me where the little gorilla's
room is?
Max [low voice]: Ahh...it's down the corridor, the second door on the right.
[Bobo wanders off.]
Max [regular voice]: And as the force-shielded dome above us fades into
transparency, revealing a dark and sullen sky, hung heavy with the
ancient light of livid, swollen stars, I--
[Bobo comes back into the spotlight.]
Bobo: Excuse me, but did you say left or right?
Max [low voice]: It's on the right.
[Bobo leaves again.]
Max [regular voice]: I can see we're in for a fabulous evening's apocalypse!
Thank you very much! [applause]
[Bobo dashes into sight.]
Bobo: Did you say apocalypse?
Max: Well, yes, yes I did, but--
Bobo: Oh, no! Not another thermonuclear device! I haven't been near it, I
swear! Oh, Lawgiver! [He dashes to their table, drops to his knees,
and clasps her legs.] Let's get out of here! I don't want to die! Save
me!
Pearl: Bobo, do you *want* me to throw up all this expensive food? Get up!
Observer: Yes, show some dignity, you bubble-headed baboon! We are
perfectly safe here.
Bobo [still on floor]: You promise?
Pearl: Yes! Now sit back down and finish your formula.
Bobo: Yes, Lawgiver.
[Bobo gets up, sits in his seat, and sucks noisily from a bottle.]
Pearl: Honestly...
[Cut to Mike and the bots, who've been watching from their table.]
Mike: That's the best floor show I've seen in years.
Tom: Sheesh, Mike, where in the universe did *you* travel to? Cleveland?
Crow: Yeah, I've seen better shows, and I never left the Satellite!
Mike: Well--
[Waiter #2 and Bruno enter.]
Mike: Never mind that now, guys, we've got ENGLISH ASSIGNMENT SIGN!
[Mike and the bots leave the dining room.]
[Continued in part 3]
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