I walked through the backyard, kicking at the ugly piles of decaying snow, in a thoroughly irritated mood.

"Brian!" I shouted, and not for the first time. "Where the hell are you, honey?"

There was a strange half-choked gurgle sounding from behind the woodpile. I grabbed a piece of kindling and ventured a glance.

My husband crouched there, studying - nay, fondling - the metal object in his hands. The light bounced off his scalp as he turned to me, hissing, "It'sssss mine! My preciousssssssss."

"Yes, sweetie," I sighed, "it's yours. No one is trying to take it from you."

I reached down in an attempt to help him to his feet. "NO!" He scrabbled further away from me and bared his teeth. "It'sssss mine, you can't have it, filthy wivesesssss."

"Okay, fine, have it your way." I was angry, and tired of his possessiveness. "Fat lot of good it's going to do you out here," I muttered as I headed to the house. "And it's not like I can't just get up off the couch and turn the channels manually."

Hans and I finish loading the last of the kiosks on the truck. Okay, by loading, I mean watching the robot do the loading, but the kiosks are loaded and that's the point.

"So boss, what is all of this for?" asks Hans.

"Project H."

Hans returns to the lab. "I'm done boss. The kiosks have bee place all over the city."

"Eeeexcellent. It's time to activate project H." I get ready to flip the big switch marked 'Project H'.

Hans looks at all the computer equipment in the lab. "So what is Project H?"

"Only the future of entertainment my big friend. What do you find on DVDs these days?"

"Movies."

"And...."

"Software."

"And..."

Hans considers it for a minute. "Aren't there audio DVDs nowa..."

"TV shows. People buy DVDs with TV shows on them. Project H takes this to a new level."

"Virtual Reality? I noticed the neural interface helments on the kiosks." Asks Hans.

"Oh, it's much more than than. My new reality extrapolator quantum computer analyzes the entire TV show, cross references it with everything on the Internet and allows the user to modify the TV shows as they see fit. Don't like a plot point, change it. Don't like how a character develops, change it. Incorrect science, fix it. I'll make a fortune from Trekkies alone. These kiosks will let me test the concept." I flip the big switch and all the kiosks activate at once, linking to the R.E.Q. computer and it's vast library of entertainment media.

"It's working. The future of entertainment is mine, BWAH HA HA HA HA HA!"

Hmmm, what're they selling now...

R.E.Q. Entertainment Kiosk - where you run your favorite shows!

Huh. It's got The Avengers, Homicide, Firefly...

Wonder if it's got a porn filter...No, filter. That can't be right. I could just take Emma Peel and John Crichton and Willow all...How much does this cost anyway?

I've been trying to find one of these hot new "write your own adventure" kiosks that I can play with, but they've all been taken by leering, snickering people writing their own porny versions of their favorite shows. I want a turn! Darn it, if people are putting their money into these kiosks to watch their own fantasies, they're going to stop buying the stories I write.

Wait . . .

Might have known evil was afoot.

Brian's been awfully thoughtful of late; springing to answer the phone ("You don't want to talk to those pesky telemarketers."), running out to meet the mailcarrier ("Oh, just a bunch of flyers and junkmail. Say, let's build a fire and cuddle."), waiting on me hand and foot ("Who needs to go outside when we have everything we want here?"), personally fastforwarding through commericals ("Don't you just hate commercials?")... If I was the suspicious type, I might think that he was behaving suspiciously.

"Stupid machine! What do you mean I'm out of money? I just got paid three days ago! I was right in the middle of an epic space battle with Aeryn and Zoe fighting back to back against a legion of Klingons! Let. Me BACK IN!!!"

Epic Space Battle! Aeryn and Zoe Fight Back to Back!"

"Ooh, what a clever idea! I've got a half hour till my next appointment..."

I loitered outside the Chinese Grocery, clutching a huge vat of hot and sour soup, thankful for it's fragrant warmth this crisp, misty morning.

"Hey, lady, you gonna be much longer?"

The cabbie sounded irritated - I couldn't blame him. The cats were, quite appropriately, caterwauling in their carriers. They say that cats don't have the cognitive function to do math, but mine know that car+carrier=vet, and they protest accordingly. It's enough to drive a person quite mad.

"I told you, my husband is shopping. He'll be out when he's done."

I hugged the pot close and tried to peer into the crowded store. "Oh, here he comes now." The cabbie grunted his satisfaction, but I could not be so sanguine.

Brian walked out of the store, rearranging bags of produce, but stopped short when he saw me.

"Hi." I smiled casually, but didn't fool him.

"What are you doing here? I told you to stay home. Why are the cats there? Is that my soup?"

I tilted my head winsomely, all the better to avoid his sharp eyes. "See, I was at home, on the couch, and there was a knock at the door and this salesman was there..."

"Yog-Sothoth save me. Did you buy one of the R.E.Q.s?"

"Well, I wasn't going to, but you know men, and their sales..."

"What happened."

"It didn't seem harmful. I just wanted to review some classic episodes..."

"What happened."

I jiggled the pot and spoke quickly, hoping the sloshing soup would drown out my words, "giant snake."

"What?"

I cleared my throat and looked him straight in the eye. "There was a giant snake."

"Holy ... What did you blow up?"

"the house."

"WHAT!"

"It seemed like the best plan, honest."

"The books!"

"We got them out."

"My weapons!"

"We'd never leave those."

He exhaled heavily, and though the cold air turned his breath to vapour which looked like nothing so much as steam, I could tell that he was calming down.

"The furniture?"

"Yep."

"How did you manage that?"

"Oh, we rented a moving van."

He paused for a second, reviewing. "All of our stuff?"

"Safe as hous... It's all safe."

"My favourite sweatshirt?"

"The one with the ragged sleeves and ripped neck?"

"That would be the one."

"This pot is getting awfully heavy."

Damn. So much for him calming down.

He sighed. "I've been gone for twenty minutes. How did you manage to move everything and blow the house up?"

"Fastforwarded through the exposition."

He took the pot from me and motioned me toward the cab with a jerk of his head. I opened the door and breathed deep the comforting scent of gingerbread that wafted out.

We rearranged cats and soup and Bok Choy until we were mostly comfortable. "We're good to go." I smiled at the driver. "Thank you for being so patient."

"So, where to?"

"Don't say Maine, don't say Maine." Brian was muttering under his breath from where he sat scrunched down and hidden behind the soup.

"Just drive, please. We'll know where we want to go when we get there."

He pulled out into the bustling streets of Little Saigon and we started the first morning of our next great adventure.

I was half-asleep, so maybe I dreamed the conversation I overheard this morning. Bob and Achmed the Clever. Bob sounded worried.

"We've got to do something, Achmed. She kept muttering 'Nuke it from orbit, it's the only way to be sure.'"

"She was looking at those old 'I Love Lucy' episodes, wasn't she."

"Uh huh. And you know how she starts twitching when those show up."

"Still, sir, an Aliens/'I Love Lucy' crossover . . ."

"Heh. 'Lucy, I'm--urk!' No, no, it can't lead anywhere good."