The odd "la la la la la la" triggers something in the back of my mind. Almost unconsiously I start singing "Blue people make me sick. Who knows what makes them tick....."

Smurfs.

Time to head home and get the shotgun. Dibs on Smurfette.

(Off topic, but did anyone watch 'TV Funhouse' on SNL this week? They had Smurfette as Anna Nicole Smith, and, Jebus wept, that was some funny shit. Inspired my new tagline.)

Damn, the halographic controller is locked onto the Smurf-a-thon playing on the Blue Stuff Channel and the controller isn't responding to commmands.

"Inga, what operating system did you load on the halographic controller before Hans deployed it?" I ask.

"You'll be angry."

"I will NOT be angry."

"M something."

"M what?"

"Me?"

"I'm almost sure that was it."

"Do you mean I deployed a 8 terrahertz, 6 projector enabled, halographic projector running Windows Me?!!"

"Okay, so all the remote admin functions of the halographic projector are locked up. We've got to get this thing off-line."

Hans considers this. "They're just halograms. They can't hurt anything".

"Maybe not physically. Damn. We' just going to have to go out into that see of smurfs and shut it down at the console."

"Could we just call in a superhero?" Suggests Inga.

"Yeah, Right. Somebody's been watching too much.... Hey, I do have a team of superheros. Send out the signal! Assemble the hall of justice!"

"You mean beep them?" Asks Inga.

"Yeah.... beep them." I've got to set up a more dramtic signaling system.

It's morning in Victoria, and I'm sitting out on my sun porch with a cup of coffee and my laptop, catching up on natter. The sun porch isn't very sunny today, because the unnatural fog that settled over Sang Sacre is still there. Phred called earlier to tell me about the latest bizarreness, an invasion of the city by Smurfs, of all things, but they don't seem to have gotten over to this part of town. Thank heaven for small favors.

I take another sip of coffee, click on 'Read New', but there is no joy, only the Message Center. Drat, that means I have to do some work. I begin sorting through the pile of correspondence I brought out with me, looking for one particular item. Here it is, a past due notice from the outfit that tricked Phred into ordering 200 cases of ink jet cartridges. No way on God's green earth I'm paying it, so I start composing a note to my attorney.

"Hello!"

I turn with a start. "What the..." A face begins to appear out of the fog outside the porch window, which resolves into a giant, animated paperclip. The paperclip continues to speak to me.

"I see you are writing a letter. Would you like my assistance?"

"Auuugh!!!"

"I see you are writing a letter. Would you like my assistance?"

Bwah!

Oh, hell. I came to Sang Sacre to forget my past. No one knows what I was here, the things I did, the people I worked for, the crimes I commited in the name of technical support--but I was only following orders!

Breathe, breathe.

There's no choice. It's followed me here--or found its own way.

Slowly I save the new porn I was working on and shut off the computer. Achmed the Clever pokes his head in to see why I'm stopping work so early.

"Achmed, it's time. Bring me the box." "Sitt, no ..." "It's OK, Achmed. Just stay inside." "Yes, sitt."

It's a simple box, maple, a good lock. I wear the key on a chain around my neck. Achmed steps back as I lift the lid. There's not much--but it doesn't have to be. Slowly I lift out the single item inside, a plastic card with my name and picture on it. And a title: "Connie Neil: Microsoft Technical Support."

I can't handle the operating system in a real knockdown fight, but I've heard of sightings of Clippy in town. He's mine to fight. I slip the ID badge over my head and feel it come over me.

Once again, I am ... Word Woman.

t weeping with laughter

Fine, you can laugh, you don't have the nightmares, the flashbacks, the twitches when you see hourglasses on a screen ...