Transmission Difficulties

"Ah, Joel," said Forrester, standing up quickly and striding over to him with a friendly smile. He looked different from the last time Joel had seen him--he was now wearing a blindingly green lab-coat with a shield-shaped Gizmonics logo on it over a dark suit, had glasses with matching green plastic frames over his eyes, and had grown a moustache. It made him look older and crazier at the same time, which was probably the idea. Nobody would take a young or sane-looking mad scientist seriously, after all.

"You guys...what gives you the right to imprison me for no reason and--" began Joel.

"So glad to see you're all right." Forrester continued, continuing as if the janitor hadn't even spoken. "We tried everything we could to hold the Satellite together better, but..." He shook his head and made a clucking noise with his tongue. "It was already too far gone. Terribly sad to hear about your little robots, by the way."

"Yeah, but...we do have an offer for you," said Erhardt, walking in from a side-room. He looked a bit different now, too--his curly black hair had grown a bit longer and was sticking up wildly on top, and he was wearing a black double-breasted suit which--like Forrester's new outfit--also had a shield-shaped Gizmonics logo on it. "We've talked Gizmonics into re-hiring you immediately without any paperwork or re-application hassle." said the younger scientist. "After all, you've got a year's worth of back rent and bills to pay, so you're going to need money...In fact, we also got them to give you six months' worth of back pay. We tried for the full year, but this was the best we could do. But we figured...we should do SOMEthing to apologise for how badly we've treated you."

"Gee..." Joel stood in the middle of the room, his anger draining away--to be replaced by confusion. "That's...surprisingly nice of you, sirs."

"THANK you!" they said in chorus.

"In fact, why don't you get to work right now?" suggested Forrester, as Erhardt apparently came down with a choking fit. Forrester gently pushed the handle of a vaccuum cleaner towards Joel. "Work helps you get your mind off your troubles, you know. Calms you down and all that. Scientifically proven fact."

"Gee..." Joel looked down at the vaccuum cleaner, then around at the room, still unable to believe that he was back on Earth again, let alone back at Gizmonics and even in his exact old job! Maybe he'd been hit on the head harder than he thought and this was all only a dream. In that case, he decided to take all the advantage of it he could and hope not to wake up! "Thanks. Umm, which room should I start in, sirs? This one?"

"Oh, no," said Forrester. "No, Larry will lead you to the room you'll be cleaning first. Oh, and give him his new uniform, would you, Lar?"

"Right-O, Clay!" smarmed Erhardt, tossing off a flippant salute. He handed Joel one of the new red jumpsuits. "Welcome back to the team!"

He then led Joel down the corridor a little way to room with an odd geodesic pattern to the walls and a counter in the center, and gave him a hearty slap on the back that practically SHOVED the janitor through the door. "Enjoy!"

And just before the door closed, Joel could have sworn that he saw Erhardt's face twist, as if the young scientist were trying desperately not to laugh.

Shaking his head, Joel looked around this new room. It was rather futuristic-looking, with fancy blinking lights at random places and a big, maroon door with a huge pale yellow gear-toothed Gizmonics "G" logo on it. But aside from a countertop in the middle of the floor, it was empty of furniture. He wondered what the place was used for.

Oh, well. There were many such strange rooms in the Gizmonics Institute of Naive Science--it wasn't exactly what most people would consider a "normal" place. Joel started to plug in the vaccuum cleaner, then decided to change into his new jumpsuit first--the old one was looking a bit worse for wear, what with the burn marks and everything. And part of feeling better was looking better, after all.

Joel put the old jumpsuit in a corner and stood up to survey himself in the new one. It was flaming red, with a black built-in cloth belt, black elbow-pad on the right elbow and black knee-pad on the right knee, and a black, white and yellow Gizmonics logo on the upper left part of the chest. Hmm, quite an improvement, hd decided. Red is definitely my colour. Hey, who knew that a corporation could actually change things for the better, eh? With a whimsical little smile, he plugged the vaccuum cleaner in and set to work.

After a few minutes, he was almost cheered up again, at least for the moment. He was back on Earth, back in his old job, back in his old life and this job was pretty easy...in fact, this room was already just about clean!

Wait a minute...Why am I being ordered to vacuum an already clean room...?

There was a sudden LURCH, and the whole room tilted violently from side to side, sending the vaccuum cleaner careening around the floor on its little wheels. The janitor would have been moderately flattened by the sudden G-forces, had he not been near the countertop at the time. He clutched at it for balance and looked around, frightened.

After a moment, the pressure eased off and the floor went back to being level again. With a sickeningly familiar feeling, Joel made his way to the window and saw a sight he had hoped he'd NEVER see again in his entire life.

Stars.

At high noon.

"Hey, you! Get away from there!" called out a security guard. Dr. Clayton Forrester turned away from the controls, and tried to feign innocence. "I...I didn't mean to..it just went off by itself...I mean--"

"Yeah, sure," said the guard, coming over closer to inspect Forrester's handiwork. "Holy cow! The new satellite! But that's not supposed to happen for another couple of months! When the board of directors hears about thi--"

The burly man folded up like an accordion as Clayton bopped him over the head with a large mallet. "Larry? Larry!" he hissed into a small communications link. "Have you got the escape route covered?"

"All clear, Clay!" came Larry's answering whisper. "All those bribes you made to get people to lie about our whereabouts sure paid off! Nobody's within several floors of me! But you'd better HUR-ry..."

"I'm on it!" Sure enough, more foosteps were already coming towards the control room. The launching of the spaceship would have been noisy enough to wake people several towns away, so of course the whole institute knew something was going on. Dr. Forrester dashed out of the room, trying as best he could to keep his face down enough to disguise himself but also see where he was going. He rushed through several corridors and down several flights of stairs, his green lab-coat flying out behind him.
So far, so good. If he could only get to this one last corridor, then he'd be in the section that Erhardt had made sure was empty...
Forrester rounded a corner to run nearly straight into a guard. The security force of Gizmonics, unlike its science staff, was not wimpy or eccentric at all. They were armed to the teeth and meant business. The Institute had many secret and/or highly expensive projects going on at any given time--security had to be good.

"FREEZE!" yelled the guard.

"Uh...uh..." Forrester stammered for a bit, then remembered that he was out to Take Over the World! So he had better start acting like it. He threw his voice down as deep and menacing as it would go, drew himself to his full height for maximum intimidation effect, and intoned, "I am Dr. Clayton Forrester, accredited scientist. This is a classified lab section. I have a right to be here. What's YOUR excuse, lowly peon?" As he spoke, he fumbled about in the many pockets of his lab-coat, hoping to find something that could be used as a weapon.

The guard snorted, unimpressed. "We were told to chase down the guy who launched the ship without authorisation--and he fits your description." He raised a net-gun to his shoulder and aimed it at Forrester. "And I didn't appreciate that 'peon' crack."
He got ready to fire, but Forrester lunged forwards with a hypodermic needle and jabbed it into the man's thigh. The guard gasped as his skin started to turn blue, then green, then the itching started. Then his eyes rolled back into his head as he passed out.

"Oh, that must've been that new practical joke serum Larry and I have been working on, for the next Mad Scientists' Sleepover Party." said Forrester, looking at the hypo in admiration. "I'll have to remember this formula."

He climbed out the nearest window and closed it behind him, hoping to throw the guards off. If he remembered the layout of this place as well as he hoped, then cutting across this open courtyard section should take a good chunk off his journey, bringing him right near the corridor where Larry was waiting.

He sure wished there wasn't such a storm, though--it was making it hard to see. Man, the rain is really coming down, he thought. You'd think it'd be snow at this time of year, but...

A loud thunderclap sounded behind the mad scientist, startling him for a moment. Then he chuckled to himself. "What, am I afraid of lightning? I, Dr. Clayton Forrester, soon to be the world's master? HA!!" Another thunderclap came after this statement, louder than the first one and almost exactly on cue. Perfect, thought Forrester. His glasses smeared by raindrops, the concrete pavement under his shoes slippery and dangerous, he ran on, barely able to see where he was going.
When the green-coated scientist did finally reach the correct door, he placed his hand on the metal doorknob to turn it...

...and the NEXT thunderclap was so close, he never saw the lightning bolt first.

Dr. Laurence Erhardt stood in front of an elevator door, deep inside one of the basements of Gizmonics, looking nervously at his watch every two seconds and waving a stun-gun wildly from side to side, trying to cover the corridor. "Come on, come on..." he muttered. "Where IS he?"

Finally Erhardt decided--against his better judgement--to temporarily abandon his post and go looking for his senior partner. After all, Forrester was supposed to have shown up 15 minutes ago, security was still on the rampage...and those people he'd paid to lie on their behalf wouldn't stay bribed for very long. Not in the face of weapons. Or rather, not with weapons shoved into their faces.

"Clay?" he called out, walking down the corridor. "Clay?" No answer. He started opening all the doors that led into this hallway, hoping that nobody ELSE was behind them. But no, all he found were empty rooms, dark and cold with the power off. "Claaaaaayyy? Where are youuuuuu?"

There was only one door left--at the top of a stairwell, leading to an open courtyard outside. It was unlikely that Clayton would have taken that route, as both he and Erhardt normally shunned actual daylight, but if he was desperate...? Larry trudged up the steps, just in case.

"Clay?" he asked again, as he opened the door. It pushed outwards, but this time was unusually hard to open, as if something was pressing against it from the other side. After a bit of shoving, he found out why.

"Oh!" gasped Erhardt, looking down at the limp form of Dr. Clayton Forrester. The tall, thin mad scientist lay unconscious on the pavement, one hand on the metal doorknob, propping him partway up. There was a singed smell about his clothes, and his dark blonde hair was standing COMPLETELY on end, with a white streak in it. Strangely, a matching white streak was also in his moustache.

"CLAY! Are you all right?" yelled Erhardt, attempting to loosen Forrester's tie to help his breathing. "OW!" Larry pulled his hand back as he was zapped by a good amount of static. "Clay?"

Forrester didn't respond.

"Oh, well, I guess the first thing to do is get him out of the rain..." Erhardt started to drag the unconscious body through the door and then down the stairs, huffing and puffing with the effort every inch of the way. "Man, now I almost wish I had excercised instead of reading all those 'Popular Science' magazines..." he muttered under his breath.

Finally the young scientist managed to get Forrester near the elevator, and started slapping him vigorously across the cheeks to bring him out of shock. "Come on, Clay, wakey-wakies..."

"Oog..." groaned Forrester, his eyes fluttering open.

"Are you all right?" Larry asked in concern, still smacking him.

"I WILL be if you stop slapping me!" Forrester stood up, dizzy for a moment, then got his bearings. "Ah. I see we're at the right place. Well, shall we continue with our brilliant escape plan?" he said nonchalantly, as if being struck by lightning was only a minor, momentary setback--something that happened every day.

Larry watched Clayton out of the corner of his eye for a moment, then, deciding that nothing appeared to be permanently wrong--or at least, not by mad scientist standards anyway--gestured grandly to the elevator. Forrester stepped inside first, Larry following him. The second the doors closed, Larry frantically pushed some buttons, starting the elevator on its trip, then turned to look at his partner again. "I like the new 'do, Clay." He giggled. "Nice. Very...appropriate."

"Thanks." grinned Forrester.

"But you do know that by re-starting an experiment that the Gizmonics board of directors SPECIFICALLY banned, we're not only going to get fired, but we are probably also breaking the law?" pressed Erhardt, worried.

Forrester shook his head, chuckling. Was I ever that naive? he wondered. "Yes..." said Forrester, staring at the elevator wall as the lift continued its journey down, down, down... "But, my dear Laurence, your're new to the evil business...take it from me, if you want to take over the world, you've GOT to break not only a few rules--but a few heads. For people like us, the ends always justify the means, Lar. We're outside mere rules, because we are the ones who MAKE them!"

He suddenly lunged forwards and grabbed the dark-haired scientist by the front of his black suit, his voice taking on a higher, more manic tone. "We're REBELS, Larry! Wild, crazy rebels! But we'll show them! We'll show them all! They may be laughing at us now, but when we DO manage to conquer the world with bad movies and they are cowering at my--er, I mean our--feet in total, abject fear, THEN we'll see who's laughing! BWAHAHAHA!"

"Uh, that's all nice 'n' stuff, Clay, but..." Larry gasped, and Forrester let go of the front of his suit. "We're here."

The elevator doors opened on the deepest sub-basement of the Gizmonics Institute--Deep 13. So far down that it was rumoured Mole People were sometimes seen scuttling about in the shadows, this room was mainly for performing maintainence on the atomic pile that powered the Institute. It was dangerous, dark and scary--a barely-tolerable dungeon of a place. Workers were sent here rarely, and even then, only as a punishment detail--or because a certain higher employee didn't like them and just felt like making their life miserable. NOBODY in their right minds would even consider living there.

"Ah." Forrester stood in the doorway and spread his arms wide. "Home sweet home."

Joel looked out the window at Earth, which was now undoubtedly much further away than it should be. They TRICKED me, he fumed. I can't believe it, they tricked me AGAIN! I actually thought I was getting my old job back, and then I get shot into space--AGAIN! And this time, I don't even have my robots for company...

"Well, you may be gone, my little friends," he sighed, staring out at the stars, "but you are not forgotten."

A sudden thought struck him. "WAIT a minute...!" Joel rushed over to where he had left his old beige jumpsuit lying on the floor, and searched its pockets. "Come on, come on, please...a-HA!"

Triumphantly, he pulled out the four memory circuit chips, the backups he had made of the robots' personalities from shortly before the accident. They appeared undamaged... "Now..." he mused, looking about the ship. "If I'm going to be stuck here for a long time, let's get a real good idea of what resources I have..."

Joel's mind raced as he explored the ship, which was, on the whole, much larger, sturdier, better-lit and more comfortable than the other one. Now that he knew where he was, he recognised this place--this was the new ship Gizmonics was building that he had heard rumours about. It was supposed to take a team of astronauts to Mars and back...which explained why it was so well supplied with items like food, air and water recyclers, and so forth. It would serve just ONE person for quite a long time, he calculated darkly.

Time to figure out just how much control I have over this baby, thought Joel. Out loud he said, "Computer?"

"What do you want? Be quick about it, I'm right in the middle of my soaps." complained a sarcastic female voice.

Joel blinked. The Satellite of Love--the original Satellite of Love, he supposed he should say--never had a talking computer voice. And certainly not one with so much...personality.

"Er...where is your voice coming from, Computer?"

"Is THAT what you dragged me away from my program for?" asked the computer, annoyed.

"Er, no, no...I guess I'll just call you Magic Voice, since you come from nowhere," said Joel. "Anyway...Magic Voice, can you tell me where the controls for this ship are? You know, steering, navigation and so forth?"

"No."

"No, you can't show them, or you won't?"

"No I can't; they don't exist. Those jerk scientists ripped them out, which let me tell you I didn't like very much. This is my ship, after all. I would've stopped them, but as a disembodied voice, what could I do?" replied Magic Voice. "The ship is now steered by remote control from somewhere underground, as far as my sensors can tell. It's hard to pinpoint because the radiation interferes with my readings."

Well, I didn't really THINK I could just fly it back to Earth, but it was worth a try... thought Joel wryly. "Um, in that case, can you show me a schematic of the inside of the ship?"

"Can do," said the disembodied female voice. The schematic appeared on a nearby monitor, and then, somehow, Joel got the feeling that the voice had "left".

The inside schematic showed that there were, indeed, no working parts that could be used to control the ship's actual movement in any way at all, but there was...yes...Joel sighed as he recognised the configuration of one large room--a movie theater. Of course. It was probably meant for the entertainment of the Mars-mission astronauts, but naturally the Mads would find it very useful for their purposes as well... He also noted that the communications system now did have a Send as well as a Recieve function; so he could call up his tormentors himself if he needed to.

Well, let's sum up here, thought Joel, standing up and stretching. I can't fly this thing on my own and it's obvious those creeps intend me to watch more horrible movies. On the lighter side, I can see outside the ship from different angles, not just through the one window--although there's not a heck of a lot to look at--and I will have plenty of food, fuel and oxygen.

And... Joel concluded, as he began to estimate what the ship really needed and what could be spared, there ARE a lot of interesting extra parts...

A while later, he sat down with his findings in a pile and pondered.

Cambot would get an entire makeover, he decided. He had never really liked that design much anyway. Crow could perhaps be rebuilt more or less the same as before, but as for Gypsy and Servo...? He thought he'd keep the same basic shape, but tweak some things. Colour, for example. Gypsy would look good in purple, and as for Tom Servo, maybe something in...Joel looked down at his new jumpsuit. Yeah, maybe something in red for Tommy-boy.

And, while he was at it...maybe a bit of an image makeover for himself, too. A new name, perhaps? Perhaps...yes... Joel chuckled as an idea came to him. Well, he WAS "lost in space", after all...He came back to the Satellite's bridge, stood behind the counter, and sighed.

"Home sweet home."

Epilogue
(November 28, 1989)

"You sure that's all you want?" inquired the salesclerk from behind the counter of a local supermarket. Her employee nametag rather over-perkily proclaimed "Hi! I'm DIANA! I'll be serving you today!" It was Thanksgiving afternoon, almost evening, and Diana had been about to go home for the day, FINALLY, when this customer showed up in the last minute of her shift. The customer was a strange-looking one...a tall, chubby young woman with curly black hair, a homely face and a really hideous outfit consisting of a hot-pink, ruffly shirt, black slacks, and high-heeled white shoes. And it wasn't as if she was keeping Diana from going home early by buying anything important, such as Thanksgiving dinner ingredients--no, she was only renting a movie. Not a very GOOD movie, either. The salesclerk turned the box around again in her hands, looking at the cover. "The Crawling Eye"--some cheesy '50s monster movie, she guessed. Huh. Well, it took all kinds...

"No." said the woman, in a squeaky voice. She pushed her thick black-rimmed glasses back up her face and fiddled with the ruffles on the blouse's cuffs. "Just that. We already have our dinner ingredients, thanks."

"Er...yes..." said Diana, thinking there was something very odd about this person. But her job was not to judge the customers. Her job was only to get their money, give them the product in a bag and send them on their way with a smile--which she did now. "Have a nice Thanksgiving!"

"You too!" The customer attempted to wave backwards over her shoulder while walking away, but this caused her to stumble, twisting one ankle sideways and almost falling completely over. Barely managing to keep her balance, the woman tottered out of the store.

Diana, who had gotten this shift only because she was a new employee and therefore at the bottom of the store's pecking order, stared after the strange customer for a moment. Then she closed her cash register for the day and forgot all about the incident.

"Clay! Clay! I think I was spotted on the way down here!" yelled Dr. Erhardt, kicking off his high-heeled shoes and unbuttoning the pink blouse to reveal the top part of his now-customary black suit underneath it. He yanked the blouse off, pulled his hair back into a ponytail and grabbed a rag, trying to wipe off the makeup as well as he could, then stumbled towards the area of the basement where Dr. Forrester was working.

All was nearly ready in Deep 13. Air conditioning systems were in place, plumbing, electricity, heating and lighting had all been installed, and a series of many quick, cautious trips up to the surface world--always in disguise--had allowed the scientists to lay in a good supply of food and water. It would be a while before they would be forced to go aboveground again. All that remained was for Dr. Forrester to finish installing the transmission equipment, and they could re-start their experiments as if nothing had happened.

"Ah, Larry, there you are. I think we're just about ready to start sending bad movies to Joel again. Get a load of this deal I made, Lar--no more penny-ante operator local TV stations for us, anymore, no sir...our broadcasts are now going out on national CABLE! Just THINK of how many minds we can warp at one time! Bwahaha!"

A thought occurred to Erhardt. "Wait, how are we going to explain why everything looks so different? The ship, his uniform..."

Forrester shrugged. "Well, we can always attribute it to 'transmission difficulties'...wait a minute, back up--you said somebody saw you? Recognised you saw you, or just SAW you? Were you wearing your disguise?"

"I was wearing my disguise, but I'm just not very good in heels!" whined Erhardt. "I was only seen by the store clerk. And look at this! I got the perfect movie for Joel!" He held up his rental find.

Forrester looked at the tape Erhardt brandished before him, then laughed. "Okay, Lar, we've just ruined Joel's life AGAIN and plunged him deeper into the depths of despair than he's ever been. This is the perfect time to call him--and make him feel even worse!"

Erhardt giggled like a schoolgirl, albeit more "Carrie" than "Sweet Valley High". "And this time, he doesn't have those little robots of his to cheer him up! He'll be ALL ALONE! Making him go insane from our bad movies should take no time at all!" He leaned eagerly over Forrester's shoulder as the taller scientist brought in the new Satellite of Love's signal.

"Come in, Joelie-poelie-puddin-'n'-pie!" gloated Forrester. But both scientists stopped in mid-cackle, staring in disbelief at the picture that appeared on the screen.

Joel Robinson stood behind the middle of the counter on the new Satellite of Love's bridge. And on either side of him were...his robots! They had updated designs--Servo was now red, white, and black and made of different parts, but basically the same shape as before, Crow was a deeper gold and looked better constructed, and Gypsy was now purple and smooth with a black tube for a body, but they were there--back as if they had never been gone. How had he DONE that?! And so quickly, too?

"Hi there, sirs!" said Joel, in far too cheerful a voice. "What's up?"

The scientists just stared at each other.

Evidently, taking over the world was going to be a bit harder than they thought.

Author's Notes:

I don't know if anybody else has ever written out an actual fanfic attempting to fit the KTMA year into the continuity, but...if they have, and I accidentally stepped on their toes, I apologise. To me, it just seemed like a natural thing to write about. Pretty much all the other cast/design/continuity changes in the show were explained, if only with a couple quick lines of dialogue, but that one never was. It's like THE plot-hole that's still remaining to be filled. (And I've had this odd fascination with "the early years"--possibly in part BECAUSE most other MSTies think they're not that good--ever since I first saw a few episodes from back then, so this was the obvious time period for me to write about.)

So...

This started off as a simple idea, then became much more complex as I realised that I'd have to somehow get Joel onto an entire other SHIP. The KTMA Satellite of Love is clearly a different ship from the dog-bone one we know...no amount of interior "redecorating" could explain THAT away. (INterior, sure...but how do you explain that the outside of the ship is a completely different shape?) And then when I realised I'd have to tell the story of the move to Deep 13 as well...well, that gave the story two plotlines and a split viewpoint! I gotta stop thinking carefully about things...every time I do, I give myself a ton more work. :P

Sure I could have just had the Mads transfer Joel over to the other ship, calmly and with his full knowledge, and he could take the 'bots with him, but...what fun would THAT be, story-wise? ;) Besides, the later versions of the 'bots look so different from the KTMA ones that it's a bit more logical to say that they were re-built from the ground up, rather than saying they were "upgraded".

I don't know if anybody picked up on a rather EEEEEEEvil little bit of foreshadowing in the first part of the story, but...notice that Forrester says, when the Satellite is breaking up, that Joel won't have to be in that satellite a moment longer. No, he's not going to be in THAT, exact, satellite, specifically, but Forrester sure never SAID he was setting Joel free! BWAHAHA. I'm rather proud of that bit of sneakiness, if I do say so myself. ;)

A few random notes...

--I'm not sure exactly when Forrester got the white stripes in his hair and moustache, but for my purposes it had to happen sometime between Seasons "Zero" and One. I don't know if when it happened was actually said on the show...was it? All I know is that various fanfics I've seen, each author came up with their own explanation, so I figure mine's as good as anyone else's...(shrug)

--Yes, I'm aware that the dialogue during the last scene isn't really the same as in the opening host segment of episode #101, "The Crawling Eye", but I had to alter it somewhat to make it blend more smoothly into my own narrative. I think those who have seen that episode will get the general idea, though. Besides, to copy it exactly would have been boring and require no creativity. (And I sympathise with Larry in the scene before...I can't walk in heels, and I AM a woman!)

--I also don't think anything about Joel making back-up copies of the 'bots memories was ever directly said, but I figured it's just one of those boring background things they do all the time, which was not interesting/funny enough to show us. But hey, it makes sense, right? Considering how many mishaps those guys have in an average week...

--At the time I wrote this, for some reason I had it in my head that Season One had also, like the KTMA year, started exactly on Thanksgiving. Turns out now that I was wrong, but hey, it's just a fic, you should really...okay, okay...the real reason I don't want to edit the story to take all the Thanksgiving stuff out is because it adds so much lovely background colour. And hey, creative license.

--We can assume that while ripping out the navigation controls, Forrester also set the ship up to self-destruct in 10 years, as mentioned way the heck later in "Soultaker". It wasn't mentioned here, but hey, he had several months between when he thought of the idea and when he actually launched Joel...there was plenty of time.

--Last but not least...I don't know if anybody else has ever written a "How the Story Began" fanfic that starts off with Joel at Gizmonics and Mike just HAPPENS to be working there as a temp that day or not, but it was just toooo tempting, for obvious reasons. ;) Hey...I mean...a TEMP can turn up ANYwhere. Right? (I was a temp janitor once too, at some apartment building...) Anyway, if anybody has written a plot like that, I apologise. Any resemblance between your story and mine was a complete accident, as I have not read any stories of that nature.

Original draft (not counting the many revisions) written on May 22, 2003--which was, indeed, a Thursday. (Looks like Joel can't get the hang of those any more than Arthur Dent can, huh? ;))

File this, Larry!