MiSTed - Roland Warner's "Hostage" (1/4)
Bill Livingston
CROW: Did you call Six Flags?
TOM: Yeah. They turned us down.
CROW: What!? Aw, man! Why?!
TOM: Because there's never actually been six different flags flown
over the SOL.
CROW: Geez! What a bunch of nitpickers!
TOM: What about your idea?
CROW: About the IMAX attraction?
TOM: NO! Nonononono! That's the *last* thing we need up here!
CROW: I think it'd be cool!
TOM: So you're really looking forward to 10-story tall apparitions of
John Agar & Coleman Francis?
CROW: [quickly] Okay, IMAX is *right* out!
TOM: What I was referring to was the Colonial style bed and breakfast.
CROW: Oh, yeah. That fell through, too. Apparently all the major
space programs have some sort of stupid rule about their
astronauts only staying at government-approved lodging.
TOM: Boy, it's all about who ya know!
CROW: Yeah, tell me about it!
[Mike enters, carrying a box full of several large balls of string]
MIKE: Hey, guys, what's up?
CROW: Oh, hi, Mike! Tom and I are trying to figure out some way to
stimulate tourism around here.
MIKE: Oh, okay, then. Have a good time. [Wanders off]
TOM: Hey, how about a historical marker?
CROW: That would be great - if anything historical had ever happened
here.
TOM: Well, there was the time I freed myself from that insidious clump
of silly putty!
CROW: "Historical", Tom, *not* "Hysterical".
TOM: Why, you - I oughtta -
[What Tom "oughtta" is cut off as Mike, still carrying the string,
wanders back in]
MIKE: Guys? 'Scuse me, but did you say "stimulate tourism"?
CROW: Yeah. [to Tom] Maybe if we put in a Super-Wal*Mart?
TOM: Well, we'd have to get the load pan bay rezoned, and the
council is *not* gonna go for -
MIKE: Waitasec - how do you expect to get *tourists* on a *satellite*?
TOM: Well, we won't unless we come up with some kind of hook!
CROW: Yeah, like a theme park or a national monument or something.
TOM: We tried to get ourselves designated an official Civil War Battle
Site, but there was some big to-do over historical accuracy or
some such.
CROW: I still say Gypsy's Richard Basehart shrine ought to qualify as
some kind of...
MIKE: No, what I mean is - we're in *space*! The only "tourists" we
ever see up here are stray shuttle flights and the odd alien
monstrosity.
CROW: Exactly, Mike! And we're trying to change that! We figure if
we can get something going, the public demand will bring a
concurrent surge in highway and other infrastructure spending.
TOM: Right. We're operating under the principal, "If you build it -
they will come.
CROW: Saaaaay, that's an idea - maybe we can get a major sports
franchise up here! Mike, is there enough left on your Optima
to put a down payment on, say, the Montreal Expos or the LA
Clippers?
MIKE: Well, I think I might have a few hun- D'oh! Look, I hate to
rain on your parade, but there's no way an orbiting attraction
is going to pull in the crowds.
CROW: [sigh] Look, Mike, if you're not gonna help us, at least don't
spread your negative attitude around.
TOM: Yeah, *some* of us are trying to maintain an air of civic pride!
MIKE: I just - oh, never mind! [as the lights flashes, he sets the
box of string down on the console] Anyway, we got commercial
sign, and I gotta make a quick trip to the necessary. Would
you two community pillars mind watching this string for me?
TOM: Yeah, sure, knock yourself out.
[Mike hits button and walks off]
CROW: Anyway, how about a museum featuring Joe Don Baker's Death Car!
TOM: He's not dead, and anyway -
[Crow and Tom look at each other, then at the twine, then at each
other. As the meatball appears, we hear the triumphant cry:]
CROW & TOM: STRING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ADS: Drop the Chalupa!
It's all about suppression!
Shezzam! Ah am Sci-Fi! - Jim Nabors
[SOL - Tom and Crow are next to a portion of what is obviously a truly
big-ass ball of string. Next to them we see tiny clumps of thread
labeled "Mini-Strings - $9.99". Behind them are signs for "The Servo
Motor Lodge - only 500 yards from the Ball of String" and "Crow T's
Family Eats - Home of the World-Famous Stringburger!"]
TOM: I tell ya, if this don't get 'em coming in, then the spirit of
chintz is really and truly dead!
CROW: Don't say that, Tom - not even in jest!
[Mike re-enters]
MIKE: Okay, guys, I'm back and - GYAH!!! What have you done?
CROW: This is our vacation attraction, Mike! The Biggest Ball of
String in Outer Space!
TOM: Yeah, semi-cephalic tourist types will flock here from all over
just to get a glimpse of this baby! And when they do -
CROW: When they do, boy, we soak 'em for every cent we can! We got
tacky over-priced souvenirs, wretched over-priced food, and
run-down over-priced lodging to wring out those bucks!
MIKE: Oooo-kay. But how did you get this monstrosity out of those few
measly spools I left here?
TOM: Well, we did some exploring, and we found a couple hundred balls
of the stuff stashed below!
MIKE: Tom, that's all Gypsy's. She was going to knit us a cozy!
TOM: A cozy? For what?
MIKE: The *whole satellite*!
TOM: Oops.
CROW: Well, we still have the stuff we got when we unraveled all your
underwear and added it to the pile.
MIKE: Oh, now see, that was a creative way to - you *what*?!? Are you
telling me that I'm totally bereft of underwear?
TOM: You still have the pair you're wearing.
[Long pause]
TOM: I said, "You still have the pair you're wearing!"
[Long pause]
MIKE: Um...
BOTS: EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!
[Mercifully, the lights begin to flash]
MIKE: Oh, the Fruits of the Loom are calling.
CROW: Sometimes you scare me, Nelson. And not in any good way!
[CASTLE FORRESTER - Bobo is in a cage barely big enough for him stand
upright in. He, along with Pearl &, Brain Guy, are being examined by
three people in sealed environmental suits]
CASEY [Jim, voice of Kevin Spacey imitating Christopher Walken] This
one - has suffered severe neurological - dysfunction. His
brain - is discolored - and has swollen so much - he's forced
to tote it around like a meat - loaf.
OBSERVER: It's supposed to look like that, you nitwit.
CASEY: Hey - back off, old - man!
PEARL: Would you stop prodding me with that stuff?
RENEE: [Bridget, with a long red wig sticking out from beneath her
helmet]: It's my job! I have to comfort you and relieve your
suffering.
PEARL: Hey, I'll relieve you of -
RENEE: Hey, who are they? [points at viewer] Are they in any danger?
PEARL: Huh? Oh, them - they're only in danger from *me*! Hiya, NelSalk!
Look, I'd love nothing more than to trade jovial bon mots with you
and your metaloid buds, but apparently we've been placed under some
kind of stupid quarantine!
DUSTY: [Paul, voice of Dustin Hoffman] Yeah, uh, we suspect the
monkey here may have brought a highly infectious disease into
the country, so we, ah, we gotta test everyone, y'know?
BOBO: Look, I may have a few rashes and a couple of running sores and,
okay, one or two fungal infections, but just because I'm a
smelly, flea-ridden, darn dirty ape doesn't mean that I'm some
kind of a disease-ridden pest, pal!
CASEY: Uh - oh. Bad news, Dusty. Read - this. [hands Dusty a paper]
DUSTY: Oh, great. Yeah, yeah, great. Generals Freeman and Sutherland want
ah, want to blow the place up. I - uh - I better drive up there
and make a grandstanding speech in front of him. Yeah. I'll just
drive up there. Yeah. I'm an excellent driver [leaves]
PEARL: Great, give a guy a couple of Academy Award, and suddenly he thinks
he's Johnny God. [sigh] Okay, you ninnies -
CASEY & RENEE: Yeah?
PEARL: No, the other ninnies. Look, this brouhaha may take a while to get
straightened out, but I'm not gonna suffer alone. I've got a
virulent little story here called "Hostage", and it's all about
futuristic viruses and such like. And just to prove there's no
hiding place, it's written by an old ally of yours - a certain Mr.
Roland Warner, of "James Cameron Conspiracy" fame! Roll up your
sleeves, boys - it's time for your booster shot of PAIN!
BOBO: Oh boy - that's gonna hurt!
CASEY: I - know!
[SOL]
GYPSY: [OS] Which one of you goons filched all my twine?!?
BOTS: Uh-oh!
[lights flash]
ALL: OH NO! WE GOT BADFIC SIGN!!!!!
BOTS: AND JUST IN TIME!!!!!
[Chaos, doors, etc.]
[6] {5} (4) <3> |2| O
[All enter]
CROW: That was a narrow escape!
TOM: Never thought I'd be grateful for this old theater!
> Hostage
>
> * * *
MIKE: Hey, Leonard Maltin gave it three stars.
>
> The Preparation
TOM: Is "H"!
CROW & MIKE: Ewww!
>
> * * *
>
>He had first conceived the idea when he had heard the idea
CROW: ...when he thought about the idea when he mentioned the idea when
the idea occurred to him...
> after hearing
>about the Ebola outbreak on Jupiter in their oxygenated zones.
SERVO: Remember, oxygenate your zones twice a day.
> It was his
>greatest idea he had ever made.
MIKE: It was even better than the spec script he'd submitted to "Voyager".
> He had previously done several other
>criminal activities like attacking Mars and making it look like Earth
>attacked them.
CROW: He planted Earth's handkerchief in the asteroid belt.
MIKE: Good thing Barnaby Jones saw through his little deception.
> Earth found the place where he had set up his operation but
>couldn't find him.
>
>He had also killed several presidents,
TOM: No one had the heart to tell him Martin Van Buren and Chester A.
Arthur were already dead.
CROW: Sad, really.
> robbed several interuniversal banks,
MIKE: He mugged the Sliders!
TOM: Good.
>committed several virtual reality crimes, he had even managed to create
>several secret identities such as Douglas Eunate,
TOM: Eunate?
CROW: No, Me Doctor, you Nate, your wife patient.
> a banker, Timothy Warner,
ALL: HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, NURSE!
>an architect, Dean King, a cab driver,
Crow: It's Moon Knight: The Fanfic!
> and other different names by taking
>the microchip out of his forehead and reprogramming them with his computer.
TOM: Which explains the zipper in his cranium.
CROW: Paging Dr. Hrrhfnhrrr.
>These identities assisted him in those crimes.
>
MIKE: Unfortunately, his identities couldn't get along and he eventually
broke up.
>This idea would put him over the top
TOM: I'd say we're already there.
> and give him the most pieces he had
>ever needed.
>
CROW: Now he can finally finish that jigsaw puzzle!
>He had already started his operation by setting up his own laboratory at
>his house. Beside him, he had several vials filled with some of the world's
>most deadliest viruses
TOM: Melissa, "Good Times", Michaelangelo, "Join the Crew"...
> including the newly found viruses, Zaire Pneumonia,
>SDS or Sudden Death Syndrome, Martian Fever, and CSP or Clean Slate
>Personality.
CROW: Rockin' Pneumonia...
TOM: The Boogie-Woogie Flu...
MIKE: Cat Scratch Fever...
> These viruses were the cause of several deaths on Saturn,
>Venus, and Jupiter, all of them airborne.
MIKE: Boy, that would really be a problem if those planets actually had
any air.
> There were no cures but were
>stopped by sucking them out of the oxygenated zones and sent out into the
>lifeless void of space.
CROW: Wow! That was one filthy sentence!
> The only problem with the idea for sending it out
>is that some of the virus clung to either the planet's very small
>gravitational pull or clung to the side of the glass like rim of the
>oxygenated zones.
>
TOM: Have you tried chicken soup? It'll probably get rid of those pesky
viruses.
MIKE: I don't know about him, but I think I'd notice something clinging
to my oxygenated zone!
>Timothy Warner knew that or that was at least was what he was known as. He
>had even forgotten his real name through all of his aliases.
CROW: ["Timothy"] Now what *was* my real name? It's on the tip of my
tongue!
> He knew that
>underneath those names, his real name lived on.
MIKE: Not that it makes any difference, since he can't remember it.
TOM: That Sounds like the theme song for "Titanic 2: Across the Sea
of Years".
> He'd planned to make his
>way to Venus where he'd heard of a hidden tunnel that held a virus that
>became very viral when brought into air.
TOM: Look out!! The virus is becoming viral!!!
> It was only a rumor but Timothy
>expected to actually find it.
>
CROW: That's just how thick he actually was.
>He placed the vials back inside the secret panel in his house and grabbed a
>suitcase beside him and opened a drawer beside him. Inside the drawer,
>there was a sealed gray metal box inside.
TOM: And inside that box was a container. And inside that container, there
was a mystery wrapped in a riddle inside an enigma.
> He placed the box inside the
>suitcase which contained a two things he would need to make his trip: two
>vials, a change of clothes, and 4 black boxes.
MIKE: Of course, by "two things", they actually mean "a large number of
things".
CROW: Well, precision may be a little much to expect here, Mike.
> Hidden inside the pile of
>clothes, he had a space suit made to resemble clothes, his own special
>design.
TOM: Of course, since his clothes were all made to resemble space suits,
dressing was a bit difficult.
> The suit could form it's own air and keep the person inside it
>alive for an extended amount of time.
CROW: Hey, neat! It formed air out of thin air. Which - I guess -
really - isn't all that hard.
> He then pressed a button on a small
>computer console and the lab he had shrunk to a black box.
TOM: Special effects courtesy of Tex Avery.
> He tossed the
>computer and the box into the suitcase.
>
>Timothy pulled out a little car and pushed a button on the bottom and
>watched the car expand.
MIKE: Inflatable Hot Wheels - the cars of the new millennium!
> He then placed the suitcase in the passenger seat
>of his car and he sat in the driver's seat.
>
CROW: Instantly, the urge to drive through a fruitcart at high speeds
began to overwhelm him.
>"Autocar: Spaceport." Timothy commanded.
TOM: Are we suddenly trapped in SuperMarionation?
MIKE: Roland Warner's Hostage is GO!!!!!
> The car's steering wheel folded
>into a triangular shaped object and shrunk back into the car's engine. The
>car started in motion and began moving down the road, doing 70 m.p.h.
>
CROW: If the car is voice activated to begin with, why does it even need
a steering triangle?
TOM: In case there's an urgent need to stop suddenly for a yard sale.
>The world had changed through the many years of his life, when he was a
>child, his father was a member of a street gang called White Supremist
>Movement who believed that there were too many blacks out on the street and
>that white's should rule the street.
MIKE: Pat Buchanan, Jr., ladies and gentlemen.
> His father was shot down in the middle
>of a protest in front of city hall.
CROW: Wow! The debate on the school bond issue sure took a nasty turn!
TOM: Ironically, they were protesting in *support* of police brutality.
> The government had found his father
>attacking a black person in front of city hall after the man had cursed
>them for their thoughts.
TOM: [Bester] The Corps is mother and father!
> Timothy's father jumped the guy as he turned the
>corner and stabbed him. A policeman watched this happen and had gotten out
>of his car too late because Timothy's father had already stabbed the man in
>the head and began running.
CROW: [Tim's father] I'd stab you in the torso, but that's such a minority
thing to do!
TOM: Miss Manners says "It's only proper to say goodbye and leave a
condolence note after sticking a shiv into someone."
> The policeman began running and gained about 12
>feet between them.
MIKE: [policeman] Okay, I'll take these 6 feet, and you can have those 6
feet. Now let's head to Thom McAnn's.
> Timothy's father pulled out a gun and fired three shots,
>hitting it's target twice.
MIKE: The third shot traveled back in time and struck the Archduke
Ferdinand.
TOM: Oh, the humanity!
> The policeman fell to the ground with a bullet
>in the arm and in the leg.
CROW: And according the Warren Commission, it was the same bullet.
> Timothy's father jumped into a car and ripped
>open the sheathing underneath the wheel and began to hot-wire the car.
TOM: Why do I feel like I'm trapped in a "Starsky and Hutch" rerun?
> It
>started up and he placed his foot on the pedal and the car moved into
>motion.
MIKE: Since moving into motionlessness would be both impossible and quite
rude.
TOM: But very Zen.
MIKE: True.
> The only thing that he didn't expect was that the policeman had
>staggered to his feet and stumbled across the pavement.
ALL: [dully] We didn't expect that.
> The policeman drew
>his gun and shot Timothy's father. The car began speeding down the road and
>crashed into a store one block from where the policeman was.
>
TOM: The car escaped with minor injuries.
>Timothy began to block the thought from his mind. Even though he wasn't
>there when his father was shot, he still could gather a image of what
>occurred that night.
>
CROW: Action News 19: On the spot, traumatizing youth around the clock!
>After his father's death, Timothy felt free.
TOM: He was free, young and fresh. Sadly, the trauma had turned Timothy
into a Mentos kid.
> His father had been very
>abusive to him and his mother. Timothy left home when he was 16 and moved
>his way across country doing odd jobs for people.
CROW: This is bad: Timothy is a direct linear descendent of Torgo, Ortega,
and Mikey the Gardener.
> Half of his earnings he
>sent to his mother, the other half he used for himself.
MIKE: Maybe his mother can tell him what his real name is.
CROW: She probably forgot, too. Lord knows I would now, if I could.
> He began to become
>very interested in technology after taking a brief tour through a computer
>company.
TOM: Wow! These TRS-80's are just so cool!
> He started visiting a library in a small town that he would never
>leave for a very long time, Kilroy, North Carolina.
>
Crow: Secret, secret. He's got a secret.
Mike: Well, Timothy *is* a modren man.
>The library had Internet access and he would visit all kinds of home pages
>for various people.
TOM: He got to see thousands of resumes, cat pictures, animated "Under
Construction" GIF's, and "Favorite CD's" lists.
> He enrolled in the local college, Kilroy College,
CROW: Made possible by a grant from the Styx Foundation.
> and
>was accepted. He found a job, working in a local computer store. He used
>his salary to pay for a small apartment and his college payment.
>
TOM: And a few brewskis on the side.
>In college, he enrolled in computer science and architecture. During his
>college years, he was a straight A student and passed all his quizzes and
>graduated with honors.
>
MIKE: You'd think someone would have been suspicious when he aced his
"Advanced Viral Terrorism" classes!
CROW: Especially after he wrecked the curve for everybody else.
>After college, he discovered his hidden talents in criminology and took it
>to his advantage.
>
TOM: So is there really that big a demand for Criminal Computer Architect
Supergeniuses?
MIKE: This is the future, Tom - *everyone* can be a Criminal Computer
Architect Supergenius.
>All the technology came to his advantage. Cars became more advanced with an
>autodrive sequence, narrower exterior for smaller lanes with a larger
>inside to hold more people.
CROW: The 2196 Ford Taurus: 500 feet long and 2 feet wide!
> Housing became more available for the less
>fortunate.
MIKE: And strangely, less available for the more fortunate.
> Everybody had microchips in their foreheads which were used as a
>credit card, wallet, ID, passport, driver's license, and many other things.
MIKE: It can be used as an oil filter.
CROW: A can opener.
TOM: A deep fryer.
CROW: A pet taxi.
TOM: A magic marker.
MIKE: A subjunctive verb.
TOM: Fellas, it can be all this!
ALL: AND MORE!!!
>
> * * *
>
>The car slowed to a stop as it reached the spaceport. Timothy got out of
>the car and pressed a button on the dashboard.
CROW: It's not as impressive as using the Club, is it?
> He watched as the car shrunk
>to about the size of a toy car.
MIKE: A toy car that weighing 3000 pounds.
> He placed the car in his suitcase and
>opened the door to the spaceport.
>
MIKE: And boy, is it embarrassing when it just pops open in the middle of
a flight or something.
TOM: [stewardess] Sir, would your please remove your Lexus from the
carry-on rack?
>The receptionist greeted him at the front desk with a cheerful smile.
>
>"Good day, sir. How may I help you?" She greeted him.
>
>"I would like a non-smoking rocket to Boulder, Venus."
CROW: He'll be visiting Mork and Exidor.
MIKE: [receptionist] I'm sorry, all we have available is a smoking rocket
to Winston-Salem, Mars.
>
>"Yes sir, hold on one second."
>
>The receptionist typed something in on her computer console in front of her
>she scanned the screen for a moment and turned to Timothy.
>
CROW: Ironically, the Computer had a virus.
>"There's a flight leaving in four hours sir, shall I book you a seat?"
>
MIKE: [Timothy] Yep. I have 300,000,000 frequent flier miles to use.
TOM: [receptionist] Okay, that qualifies you for a free pack of honey
roasted peanuts, sir.
>"That would be fine, ma'am. Is there a seat in first class available?"
>
>The lady turned her head back to the console. "Yes there is. It costs 50
>pieces."
>
CROW: So what are these supposed to be pieces *of*?
MIKE: I think it's just imaginary money. Sort of like "Credits" on Star
Trek.
CROW: You mean before Star Trek decided they didn't use money any more.
TOM: Except for gold-pressed latinum.
MIKE: Exactly.
>"I'll take it."
>
>"All right sir, just put your forehead against this plate here."
>
MIKE: [Timothy] No! There's still meat loaf and green beans on it!
>Timothy placed his forehead against a bent metal plate and a whirring sound
>started up.
TOM: Then he was sucked into the wood chipper and the story ended.
MIKE: You wish.
> He felt a little twinge in the middle of his forehead as a
>metal eye scanned it for the chip and a click as it acknowledged the
>existance of it.
TOM: [sarcastic] Ooooooooooooh, thank you *so much* for noticing I exist!
> The computer beeped and brought up all the pieces he had
>on the chip. So far, he had 1,550 pieces in his forehead
CROW: Which explains that strange rattle when he nods.
> and was reduced to
>1,500 pieces as the computer reduced the amount of credits in the chip. The
>only thing not marked in his forehead that the computer couldn't read was a
>chip behind his ear that held all the pieces he had stolen from other
>banks.
[All laugh]
TOM: Not a very effective place to stash your loot, is it?
MIKE: Hey Tim, what's that huge misshapen bulge behind your ear?
CROW: It's, uh, where I keep my bowling ball.
TOM: So I guess when they say being a criminal is all in your head, this
is the sort of thing they have in mind.
> He had a wire linking the chip to his forehead where he could add
>pieces to the microchip.
CROW: Of course, running across his face as it did, it was a bit
conspicuous.
> Even though he could add aliases to his forehead,
>he couldn't create pieces in that chip. When he stole pieces from a bank or
>something, he would steal a giant hard drive from the bank's main console
>and make off with it.
TOM: So he can use his computer to create totally new identities for
himself, but he can't counterfeit a few lousy holo-dollars?
CROW: PGP's come a long way!
> He was able to scan the hard drive for bugs that
>would indicate where he went with the money.
MIKE: The new Pentium VII - now with built-in Jiminy Cricket firewall/
conscience protection.
> After removing a bug if there
>was one, he would then go to a small bathroom or a place where android
>police would least expect him to go.
MIKE: [Android Cop] Do you think he's in the can?
TOM: [Android Cop] Don't be silly - no one ever goes in there!
> He would then run a small wire from
>the hard drive's main wire to a small hole where the microchip was placed
>and begin the transfer.
TOM: Seems like they'd be able to avoid most bank robberies just by
installing SurfWatch.
> He would then dump the hard drive in a incinerator
>along with any other trash he had and the transfer would be complete.
>
CROW: Thank goodness those hard drives are completely, 100% flammable.
MIKE: Who knew silicon chips and copper wiring would be replaced by flash
paper and cordite?
>"All right, Mr. Warner. You have been marked for a flight on a Hercules
>Rocket to Boulder, Venus at 7:00 p.m. Is this right?"
>
TOM: [Ben Stein] Well, it's correct, but it's *hardly* right.
>"Yes it is ma'am. Thank you." Timothy said as he removed his head
>
MIKE: Now he's just the eerie, disembodied head of Timothy Warner.
CROW: This way, when the faces of those he's wronged float up before him,
he can float right back up at them.
>"Thank you for flying Hercules."
TOM: [ticket woman] Have a Legendary Journey.
>
>Timothy turned and left the building. Around the corner, there was a real
>estate machine that could give information on such things as what houses
>were on the market, what apartments were for sale, and other useful
>information.
>
MIKE: Such as where the really good Venusian restaurants were.
CROW: Hmmm - "Vend-a-Mortgage"? I dunno...
>He placed his forehead against the metal plate on the machine and the
>mechanical eye scanned it. As his forehead was against the plate the
>machine began to talk to him.
>
MIKE: It told him his neighbors were spying on him and he should
"take care" of them!
>"Good day, Mr. Warner! and what would be your pleasure?"
>
CROW: [Timothy] Well, it involves Jenna Elfmana and a tub of Cool Whip.
>"I'd like to put an house up for sale."
>
TOM: [Python] Oooooooooh!!! We'd like to sell "an house", would we?!?
>"Okay, and exactly how much would you like to sell it for?"
>
>"500 pieces."
>
CROW: Squawk! Pieces of Eight! Pieces of Eight! Squawk!
>"Let me check my data files and see if we have any who are looking for a
>house like your's from the blueprints marked in your microchip."
>
>Timothy did not remove his forehead from the plate.
TOM: [falsetto] I said no dessert until you clean your plate, young man!
And that includes your forehead!
MIKE: [Whiny] Aw, ma-a-a-a-a!!!
> If you removed your
>head, that would alter the amount of pieces you had and probably destroy
>the chip.
>
CROW: Also, if you wore a hat, the computer would think you were Abe Vigoda.
>Moments later, the computer started back up.
>
MIKE: And it still makes that stupid "Microsoft Sound" when it does.
>"I have found a couple in Charlotte, North Carolina who would like a house
>exactly like yours in the price range of your money,
TOM: "The price range of his Monet"? How'd he get an impressionist?
CROW: "Money", Tom - "money"!
TOM: Yeah, it took a *lot* of money to get a painting like that.
CROW & MIKE: D'OH!!!!
> shall I let them buy
>it?"
>
>"Yes."
>
CROW: Well, that's convenient.
TOM: [House Machine] Okay, and closing costs come to... 600,000 pieces.
>"Thank you sir, I have marked you microchip with the 500 pieces. Anything
>else, sir?"
>
CROW: [Warner] Yeah, where's the vending machine that'll let me buy Trump
Towers?
>"Yes, are there any apartments available in the are of Boulder, Venus.
>
>"Let me check my data files. Any specific kind of apartment?"
>
>"A nice one, top floor."
>
MIKE: Is it really necessary to specify "a nice one"?
TOM: [Gruff] Yeah, I want a filthy, run-down roach-infested dump somewhere.
Preferably with rent-control.
>"Please wait."
>
>A few moment's later, the computer started back up.
>
>"Yes, there's one available at the Vacation hotel on 64th Street for 300
>pieces, shall I purchase it for you?"
>
CROW: [Warner] Would you? Thanks, now I can save all that money I was going
to spend!
>"That would be fine."
>
>"We appreciate you using Monday Realty for you housing needs."
>
MIKE: [singing] Monday, Monday, so good to me...
>"Thank you."
>
>Timothy walked five blocks down to Buddy's Bar where he always visited to
>get a glass of Buddy's special,
CROW: Unfortunately, Buddy's special was a chunk of lard and a moldy
grilled cheese sandwich.
> a slab of grilled sirloin steak, fries,
>baked potato, and a glass of Moon Sprit.
MIKE: Fries *and* a baked potato?
TOM: Yeah, Mike! Slam that with a glass of Moon Sprit, and it's...
TOM & CROW: EXTREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEME POTATOES!!!!!
> He entered the bar, sat down at a
>table, and ordered Buddy's special. As he was waiting, he began to think
>about how technology had advanced since he was a child.
TOM: Why, back then, they hadn't even invented Lipton's Cup of Canned Ham!
> He remembered how
>everybody believed that aliens existed and that some of them he had talked
>to believed that we would find them in the near future.
MIKE: It was easy. Just turn on any given episode of Star Trek or B5, and
there they were.
> That was in the
>1990's. This is the 2020's.
CROW: When ABC Newsmagazines ruled the world!
> No aliens have ever been found.
>
TOM: Well, except for that Nimoy guy, and turned out he was faking it.
>Even the entire galaxy had been settled after the great population boom of
>1999. There were now such places as Harbinger, Mars; Jackson Jupiter;
>Houston, Saturn; and Boulder, Venus.
MIKE: And who could forget San Diego, Mercury; or Chattanooga, Pluto; or
The Dells, Neptune?
TOM: You forgot Uranus.
CROW: *mmmmmmmmmmmWAH!* Good night, everybody!
> Boulder was located near the fabled
>cave where the hidden virus lay.
>
>A small shaft beside Timothy opened up and slowly brought out his food.
>
CROW: Man! That shaft is one bad food dispens-
MIKE & TOM: Shut your mouth!
CROW: Just talkin' 'bout that shaft.
MIKE & TOM: We can dig it!
>"Anything else, sir?"
>
>"No, thank you."
>
>"Thank you."
>
TOM: Um, who's he talkin' to, here?
MIKE: Probably that 6" Richard Roundtree.
>"Well, if it ain't my good friend, Dean King, or have you changed your name
>again?" A small man said as he sat down in a chair across from Timothy's
>table.
>
>"Hey! How ya doin, Clark?"
>
CROW: [basso] Fine, Lois.
>"Fine, I noticed you walking down the sidewalk outside and tried to stop
>you but you didn't so I decided to come in and have a drink with my pal.
TOM: [Clark] But he's not here, so I'll just stay and annoy you.
>You planning on doing any more robberies or are you a killer now?"
>
CROW: D'oh!
TOM: I guess Timmy doesn't pick his pals based on their discretion.
>"First, the name's Timothy, Timothy Warner.
ALL: [a la James Bond theme] Ba-DUM-da-DUM-dada-DUM!!!
> Second, I'm neither. Do you
>want anything?"
>
>"No thanks, what are you doing these days?"
>
>"Looking for a job. I'm going to Boulder to see if I can find an available
>job."
>
CROW: [Warner] I understand the police department needs all the help it
can get.
>Timothy pressed a button beside the panel in the wall and ordered a refill
>of Moon Sprit.
>
>"I can't seem to find a job either, mind if I tag along with you?"
>
MIKE: Apparently, all the great jobs are on Venus!
>Timothy thought about this. "OK, but when we reach Boulder, you're on your
>own. Okay?"
>
>"Sure. I'll go buy a ticket right now."
>
>"Buy it coach, that's what mine is."
>
CROW: Craig T. Nelson - he's ready when you are.
>"Sure do fly elaborate, don't you."
>
>"You bet."
>
TOM: He flaps his arms all over the place.
>Clark left the table and walked out of the bar and Timothy continued
>eating.
MIKE: Boy, the action just never lets up!
TOM: Good thing I took my heart pills.
> The panel had brought Timothy his refill of Moon Sprit
CROW: After which the panel returned to the set of "Meet the Press".
> and took the
>old glass.
>
MIKE: And got the 10¢ deposit back.
>After he had finished eating, Timothy sat at his table checking his
>suitcase to make sure he had everything properly placed in it for case
>checking at the terminal.
>
TOM: Yeah, rifling through personal belongings in plain sight in a public
place is how most terrorists lull the police into complacency.
>The panel opened up and brought out a metal plate for Timothy to pay for
>his meal.
CROW: Cool! The limited edition "Iron Maiden" Collector's Plate! I heard
that plate may increase in value as much as 500%.
MIKE: Of course, past performance is no guarantee of future returns.
CROW: Well, thanks a lot, Nelson! You've shattered my dreams yet again!
> He placed his head against it and the machine began whirring and
>clicking.
TOM: But all that came up were lemons.
> After paying, Clark came back and they both left the bar.
>
MIKE: Hey, a Clark Bar.
>Timothy still had three hours and a half to spare before time for them to
>leave. Clark made a stop at a housing machine to sell his house. After
>selling it,
CROW: Apparently in this future, Century 21 *won't* be calling.
TOM: Yeah, no more little ReMax balloons floating around - darn shame.
> Clark left Timothy alone to go get his suitcase from his house.
>
>Timothy opened up his suitcase and pulled out the miniature car. He pressed
>a button underneath it and the car expanded to it's regular size. He got
>into the car and towards his house.
>
TOM: And he drove off so fast, he left his action verb behind.
>When he reached home, Timothy packed up all his belongings and tossed them
>in the Goodwill bin.
>
CROW: He's the charitable terrorist.
TOM: Sort of a 21st century Robin Hood.
MIKE: More likely a 21st century Robin Givens.
>Two hours still remained before he had to leave so he decided to rest until
>6:50 and then drive to the airport.
CROW: That daring rebel! He's ignoring FAA recommendations and not
showing up an hour before the flight!
TOM: And the point of this scene is...
MIKE: Never embark on a germ warfare campaign when you're tired.
>
>At the airport, he met Clark in the lobby and they proceeded up the
>escalator. He tossed his suitcase in the baggage area for those heading
>towards Boulder, Venus.
CROW: Where the spaceline's crack Luggage Losing Squad immediately shipped
it to Pocatella, Vulcan.
> He then entered a long hallway to the rocket. If it
>weren't for the floor beneath him, he would have felt as though he were
>walking on air.
TOM: He had his answer!
> All the walls beside him were pure and clean glass. Timothy
>thought to himself that they were to show what went on at a spaceport for
>the curious. He could see cars moving about the cement filling rockets to
>prepare them for take off,
CROW: Cement filling rockets?
MIKE: Kids still love those construction vehicles.
> rockets entering the wash to clean off for take
>off.
>
CROW: In space, no one can hear you rinse!
>He entered through the doors of the rocket and was led to a seat in coach.
>He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out Viruses: Myths and Facts about
>the truths and untruths of the viruses plaguing the entire galaxy.
MIKE: Is this what they mean by "hiding in plain sight"?
TOM: I think it's what they mean by "sack of hammers"!
> The book
>confirmed that the fabled Henroid Syndrome in the mines of Venus below
>Boulder did not exist.
TOM: It was just swamp gas.
> Timothy didn't believe that because he had seen the
>effects of it through hologram images from his informant, Harry Lowell.
CROW: I get the feeling we're gonna need a scorecard to keep up with all
these people. Possibly an Oracle database.
>Lowell had assisted him an several other crimes and never asked for a
>single piece in return. Lowell has been a shady character ever since
>Timothy was known to him.
CROW: Before that, though, he was perfectly respectable.
> He would meet Lowell at the exit to the airport
>and they both would go to the entrance to the mine.
>
>"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are go for lift off. Please strap in and brace
>yourself, you might feel a little push." The captain announced over the
>intercom.
>
TOM: [Pilot] It'll probably be the kid in the seat behind you. Feel free
to make faces at him.
>Timothy pulled the two straps around his shoulders and hooked them together
>at the chest. The engines fired up and Timothy felt himself forced against
>his seat cushions, as did everyone else around him.
CROW: Thanks you for flying Grope Spacelines.
> As of what Timothy
>could see outside, the clouds were rushing towards him as though it were
>ready to attack him with a bound.
MIKE: [British] What about with pointed sticks?
> Then in less than the blink of an eye, a
>bird struck the window in the front seat, slapping each window behind it as
>though it were attached to the plane but couldn't pull off.
TOM: It's the rare and beautiful Curlybird.
CROW: Listen to its wistful call: "NYUK-NYUK-NYUK-NYUK! NYAAAAAAAAAAH!"
> In a split
>second, it hit Timothy's windows and he saw that the bird was dead. His
>eyes were wide open and his chest was cut.
CROW: My, what a pleasant image.
MIKE: Thank you, story. We really needed to see that.
TOM: Wait, guys, maybe it's symbolic or something.
CROW: Yeah, it's symbolic of this story jumping up my butt!
> The rocket wasn't knocked off
>course since the bird was too small to do any serious damage. That was the
>one thing that always struck a cord with Timothy, an animal lying dead in
>the road would always make him feel a slight shiver down his spine.
TOM: He's not worried about all those people he killed, but a dead bird
makes him all misty-eyed.
CROW: He must be an Earth-Firster.
> Then
>he'd just shake it off and begin concentrating on the road. He felt that
>shiver coming back. He knew it couldn't have been helped but maybe if the
>rocket had started a little earlier it would have missed the bird.
CROW: Of course, it would have rammed that 747 smack-dab in the side!
MIKE: Never mind that, man! There are birds to protect!
> He shook
>off the shiver and started back up at reading his book. The stewardesses
>began gliding up and down the walkway
TOM: Aaaaaah! Wraiths!
> taking people's orders for dinner.
>Timothy ordered a glass of Juniper wine.
>
CROW: Spodee-Odee.
>Up front, the award winning movie, Venus Murders started playing. Timothy
>pulled away from his novel and began watching the movie. It started out as
>an adventure movie based in Highlands, Venus.
ALL: [dully] There can be only one.
> A person had broken into the
>Venus bank vaults and stolen thousands in pieces. Eventually, it turned
>into a romance story between a robber and an undercover police officer. By
>the end, the police officer committed suicide by leaping into the vacuum of
>space. over her love for both the robber and the hatred over what he had
>done.
MIKE: It starts off as "It Takes a Thief", slides into "Out of Sight", and
ends up as "Romeo + Juliet".
TOM: Actually, it's not much different than a lot of movies today.
> A few cried but Timothy didn't really care about the film. He just
>began reading his book again and ignored the next movie, Rupert J. Ming.
CROW: Flash Gordon conquers the FOX network!
> As
>the movie ended, the captain began speaking over the intercom again.
>
TOM: [Captain] For your viewing pleasure, we will now be smashing into
several more flocks of birds.
>"Ladies and gentlemen, I hoped you enjoyed the movie. We'll be entering
>Boulder in about 10 minutes,
MIKE: [Captain] The police will begin the questioning about Jon-Benet
Ramsey shortly, so please remain seated.
> please strap in and I hope you enjoy your stay
>here on Venus."
>
TOM: [Captain] Goddess of love that she is, over.
>Timothy exited the rocket and Clark wished him well. They parted and
>Timothy walked over to the baggage claim and picked up his suitcase.
CROW: And the Clark portion of our story comes to an abrupt halt.
> He
>began wandering down the hallways looking for Lowell. He pulled out a
>snapshot of Lowell in the Martian Craters. He was wearing a trenchcoat and
>a burnt sienna hat.
TOM: *After* Labor Day? Hmph!
MIKE: Special guest star Kid Rock, ladies and gentlemen!
> Around the corner, Lowell was waiting for Timothy.
>
>"All right, I have these vials here, what do I do now?"
>
MIKE: We need a specimen. Use the men's room over there.
>"Follow me, I'll take you to the airlock."
>
>Lowell left the airport, followed by Timothy. Lowell opened up the flap in
>his pocket and pulled out his little car.
CROW: Pervert!
> He pressed a button and the car
>expanded to it's original size and they pulled out onto the highway and
>drove down about five miles.
TOM: Hey, this story's given me an idea.
MIKE: Y'know, I think you're right.
CROW: This could make us rich, fellas!
TOM: Let's go!
[All leave]
O |2| <3> (4) {5} [6]
[SOL - In front of Tom is what appears to be a Matchbox car with a Skittle
or an M&M on top.]
TOM: I'm tellin' you guys, Roland's hit the nail on the head here with this
whole expandable miniature car deal!
CROW: Yeah, imagine someday being able to run an entire used car lot out of
a beat-up old attaché case.
MIKE: I know some guys who do that now.
TOM: Anyway, this is my stab at creating that blessed utopia. Behold - a
fully miniaturized Chrysler Concorde LX, with full options - power
windows, anti-lock brakes, disengageable airbags, handsome leather
interior, fully rust-proofed and it gets 29 mpg city, 41 highway!
MIKE: Wow! Tom, that's amazing!
CROW: And it expands just by pushing the button?
TOM: Plus, chrome hubcaps, whitewalls - even has built-in CD!
CROW: And it expands just by pushing the button, right?
TOM: And check this out - tinted glass!
CROW: C'mon, push the button and expand it!
TOM: Uh, heh heh heh, did I, uh, mention the power windows?
MIKE: Tom -
TOM: Okay, look, I haven't quite got all the bugs worked out
CROW: It doesn't expand?
TOM: Not yet!! I'm working on it, though!
MIKE: Well, in the meantime, if the cast of "A Bug's Life" wants a nice
car, you've got it covered.
CROW: Wanna see mine?
MIKE: Lead on, MacDuff.
CROW: Check out the viewscreen!
[The Hexfield opens to show a full-size auto with a gigantic red button on
the roof]
CROW: It's a shrinkable Toyota Celica.
MIKE: Hey, not bad.
TOM: I'll admit, it's pretty nice. Go ahead and shrink it so we can
scope it out.
CROW: It is shrunk.
[pause]
MIKE: What do you mean, "it *is* shrunk"?
CROW: This model is fully miniaturizable to 99.5% of full size.
MIKE: "99.5%".
CROW: Yep. I wanted to start off slow.
TOM: So in other words, a 21-foot long car shrinks to -
CROW: That's right, 20 feet, 10.74 inches. Light, compact, and easy to
transport!
TOM: Uh-huh.
CROW: Hey, at least mine actually changes size!
MIKE: Just, uh, just keep up the research. We'll be r-
CROW: Hey, what about you?
MIKE: What?
CROW: Well, I thought you were working on it, too.
MIKE: Oh, I was kinda hoping you'd forget. See, I was a little unclear on
the concept and - well -
[Mike reaches beneath the console and produces a scrunched up cube of metal,
glass and plastic]
MIKE: There it is, a miniaturized Buick Roadmaster.
TOM: Oh.
CROW: Uh-huh.
MIKE: [Keeps pulling out car cubes] Yeah, and here's a Ford Escort - and
a Honda Accord - this is one of them new Volkswagen Beetles - and
here's an entire 18-wheel Mack truck.
CROW: [shakes head] Poor sap.
[Lights flash]
TOM: We'll be back, folks.
MIKE: Oh, I'm actually sort of proud of this one - it's a Rolls Royce
Silver Ghost.
CROW: Really?!?
MIKE: Yep. Every piece was hand crafted and flown in from England before
being crushed into an unrecognizable heap.
TOM & CROW: Ooooooooh!
[Meatball]
ADS: Psychics, psychics, psychics!
Everyone in Steel Wool!
I am Sci-Fi in Disguise! - Chris Gaines
(continued)
#######################################################
bi...@Traveller.COM http:\\www.hsv.tis.net\~bill
He that is of a merry heart hath
a continual feast - Prov. 15:15b