Ayaz Bin Zamid should indicate her just about the grid
o.i.hummel
Trimming off the rest of this post is unnecessary.
I will guarantee anonymity except in cases of blatant abuse.
I will achieve anonymity by tallying the results in
uncorrelated tabulations and then deleting the emails.
(I know this loses interesting correlation data, but if
resondents want anonymity it's hard to avoid.)
I know that this anonymity promise depends on trust and that
you have no particular reason to trust me. Someday, I hope.
I will post results Saturday.
xxxxxxxx beginning of survey xxxxxxxx
yes( ) ( )no Should RoadRunner be subjected to some kind of UDP?
yes( ) ( )no ... active UDP (cancels) ?
yes( ) ( )no ... passive UDP (drop messages) ?
yes( ) ( )no ... all-groups UDP? (as opposed to specific groups)
yes( ) ( )no Are you a Usenet sysadmin? How big:_ How long:_
yes( ) ( )no Should another server be subjected to UDP? Who:_
yes( ) ( )no Should UDPs be used more often?
yes( ) ( )no Should UDPs be used less often?
yes( ) ( )no Would you have answered this survey without anonymity?
xxxxxxxx end of survey xxxxxxxx
--
difficult to slide
the door open as I swung like a pendulum, but sight of the
first rays of the bright moon gave me that extra impetus, the
door slid open and I crawled exhaustedly inside. Relin-
quishing the free end of the rope, I jerked and pulled until
the whole length was in my hands. Shaking with utter ex-
haustion, I slid the door shut and dropped to the floor.
Two or three days later-one loses all count of time under
such conditions-I felt the train slowing. Hurrying to the
door, I opened it a crack and peered out. There was nothing
to be seen except snow, so I rushed to the other side. Train
guards were running along after a group of refugees. Obvi-
ously a big search was under way. Picking up my belong-
ings, I dropped over the side and into the snow. Dodging
and twisting between the wheels of the trucks I managed
to completely confuse my snow-trail. While I was still at it,
the train started to move, and I grabbed desperately at the
63
nearest icy coupling. By great good fortune I managed to
get my arms around one, and I hung there, feet dangling,
until a sudden jolt enabled me to get my legs up as well.
Standing up, I found that I was at the end of a truck
which was covered with a stiff, frozen tarpaulin. The knots
were solid ice, the heavy canvas was like sheet iron. I stood
upon the swaying, ice-covered couplings battling with the
icy knots. I breathed upon them, hoping that they would
soften,