Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!ucbvax!HAWK.ULOWELL.EDU!wgarmil
From: wgarmil@HAWK.ULOWELL.EDU (WildCard)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: A lasting memory
Message-ID: <9004151752.AA14064@hawk>
Date: 15 Apr 90 17:52:09 GMT
Sender: daemon@ucbvax.BERKELEY.EDU
Lines: 45


Admist the brevidy and story telling going on in the Place, no one has moved
the tables back into the fancing area.  It turns out to be good thing too as
a British police call box starts to materialize.

"Oh, no.  Not him, too!",  goes many a patron of the Place (Mike included).

When the TARDIS is fully materialized, the doors open and out is thrown both
WildCard (still in his superhero costume) and his well worn bag of tricks.
The doors are immediately closed again, and the TARDIS is gone.

"That's what I get for hitchhiking," WildCard laughs outload to himself.  He
quickly retrives his bag and sits a table by the fire.  From his bag, he
pulls a small round disk.  Holding it up to the light of the fire, a
hologram of a young woman appears above the flat side of the disk.  He
stares at the image for a few minutes, lost in thought.  When a tear starts
running down his cheek, he lowers the disk and approaches the bar.

"Give me a Sunrise, Mike.  I need a stiff drink in order to make this
toast."

"You sure you're up to drinking tonight, Wayne?"  Mike is one of the few
people I know who can use my real name without offending me.

"Yea, Mike, I'm sure.  No car keys to hand over, though.  Just have to hope
I don't time jump unexpectedly."

Taking the drink, I place a dollar bill on the table which I took from my
bag (I'd make a fortune by selling superhero costumes with pockets).  A
quickly down the Sunrise, wait a few seconds for the aftereffect to hit,
then stumble over to the chalk line.

"To Marcy, my anchor.  I remember you tonight, on the anniversery of your
death (a drunk driver hit her while she was crossing the street).  You were
my anchor for the time I knew you, and your memory still anchors my spirit
in reality.  <<CRASH>>"

I go back to my table and grieve for the third year in her memory.  It is
only the third time in as many years that I've cried.  It feels good.

   _     __  _      __                     How can we dance
  ' )   /   //   / /  )            /          when our earth is turning?
   / / / o // __/ /    __.  __  __/        How can we sleep
  (_(_/ <_</_(_/ (__/ (_/|_/ (_(_/_           while our beds are burning?
     (wgarmil@hawk.ulowell.edu)                  -Midnight Oil
Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!jarthur!bweed
From: bweed@jarthur.Claremont.EDU (Stampede of the Troglodyte Mermaids)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: slow dissolves
Message-ID: <6267@jarthur.Claremont.EDU>
Date: 15 Apr 90 19:30:34 GMT
Organization: Hotel Pandemonium (Harvey Mudd College, Claremont, CA)
Lines: 35


Suddenly, someone notices the fuzzy-elf. You don't remember her disappearing,
but she didn't really seem to be there, either.

The skin looks wrong, too; it's become thin, almost transparent in spots,
showing the real person underneath. They do look quite similiar, color and
extremities notwithstanding. She looks woeful.

"I'm sorry I didn't find you people sooner. As it is, I had just gotten in
 before realizing that I could not really afford to spend time here."

She attempts to wrap her tail around a rootbeer, but the strangely flickery
tail passes through it. She chuckles mirthlessly and continues.

"The next few weeks, 'til about mid-May, are going to be very bad for me. If
 I can make contact, I will, but otherwise I don't know if I'll be able to
 get back-- perhaps the College will leave my doorway up for the summer."

"Sorry I didn't have more to say to newcomers-- I'm not trying to shut you
 out, really I'm not. I might be able to keep a wisp of myself around to
 listen, but other than that..."

She strains for a moment, and the fuzzy-elf appearance becomes stronger. This
time she is able to pick up the bottle, and walk to the chalk line with it.

"To good things oft found too late."

>whip-smash!<

The skin fades completely to reveal Brandi standing there with a sad smile on
her face. She then fades gently away with a sigh.


-- 
| Brandi Weed	bweed@jarthur.claremont.edu	!uunet!jarthur!bweed	|
Path: mit-eddie!rutgers!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!zephyr.ens.tek.com!orca.wv.tek.com!pogo!andyd
From: andyd@pogo.WV.TEK.COM (Laura Davidson)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Maybe you'll see what I mean / poetry
Message-ID: <8901@pogo.WV.TEK.COM>
Date: 15 Apr 90 22:27:29 GMT
Reply-To: andyd@pogo.WV.TEK.COM (Laura Davidson)
Distribution: na
Organization: Tektronix Guest
Lines: 26


    Lyra stands up.  "I've written a poem.  Perhaps you will see what I mean
underneath it."

        TRUST
    Two ships meeting in the night
    Truned their lights on, passing bright.
    And waved, as they went on their way, 
    Each wishing he could stay.

    Now each ship was driven 
    For the speck of light then given;
    By the other blinded in the gloom,
    Too late they each did see their doom.

        "Maybe you see what I mean?"  She asks, and sits down.


--
Copyright by Laura Davidson.  May not be reproduced except for personal use.

-- 
A voice said, Look me in the stars |~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|
And tell me truly, men of earth,   |      Shannalyralythia          |
If all the soul-and-body scars     |________________________________|
Were not too much to pay for birth.  -Robert Frost, A Question
Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!wuarchive!psuvax1!husc6!encore!encore.com
From: terryk@encore.com (Terence Kelleher)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Hello again.
Message-ID: <11605@encore.Encore.COM>
Date: 16 Apr 90 00:41:03 GMT
Sender: news@Encore.COM
Reply-To: terryk@encore.com (Terence Kelleher)
Organization: Encore Computer Corp
Lines: 33

Hildy looks up from the cards she is shuffling.  "A newcomer? Hi, Jamie!  
Is it my turn for a story?  Is any one still playing?  I have a father-
in-law story so that you can get a glimpse of the man we are mourning. 
BTW, he had been battling cancer for the last five years. This was one 
of his favorite stories. 

My daughter (then 5 years old) had spent a week with her grandparents 
who lived 300 miles away and they were driving her to us and taking a 
long weekend for a visit.  We had just moved and they had never seen the 
nwe place.  They had directions so they weren't completely lost but they 
weren't sure of the landmarks.  They turned to my daughter and asked if 
they were going in the right direction, "Does anything look familiar?"

"Sure, Grandpa, it looks familiar."

A few minutes later, "Grandpa?"

"What, Shawn?"

"What's familiar mean?"



Wildcard, I'm sorry for your loss although I'm glad you knew her and
continue to keep her memory.  Its also good to hear that you hold the 
meaning of her life dear and don't allow it to be in vain.  I'll toast
her also, if it is welcome.  I'm glad the world is richer for her being here."

CRASH
-- 
Terence Kelleher
Encore Computer Corporation
terryk@encore.com
Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!oliveb!apple!brutus.cs.uiuc.edu!wuarchive!psuvax1!psuvm!jls139
From: JLS139@psuvm.psu.edu (Abaddon)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Re: A lasting memory
Message-ID: <90105.165844JLS139@psuvm.psu.edu>
Date: 15 Apr 90 20:58:44 GMT
References: <9004151752.AA14064@hawk>
Organization: Penn State University
Lines: 13


    Abaddon walks over and lays his hand on Wildcard's shoulder in gesture
of comfort. "Yes, why must the good die young? Jenny was lost 13 years ago
in a car accident. Sixteen is too young to die."
    Abaddon orders up his usual and toes the line. After a bit of
contemplation he downs the drink and offers: "To life after death, may we
all live on in each other's memories." -----><CRASH>.

         :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
         | Abaddon..<jls139@psuvm.psu.edu>..jeff stine |
         |                                             |
         | "fiery the angels fell..."                  |
         :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Path: mit-eddie!media-lab!snorkelwacker!usc!samsung!noose.ecn.purdue.edu!mentor.cc.purdue.edu!f3w
From: f3w@mentor.cc.purdue.edu (Mark Gellis)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Re: Here is my song
Message-ID: <9708@mentor.cc.purdue.edu>
Date: 16 Apr 90 05:26:08 GMT
References: <14696@reed.UUCP>
Reply-To: f3w@mentor.cc.purdue.edu (Mark Gellis)
Distribution: usa
Organization: Purdue University
Lines: 3

Ah, another Jim Croce fan.  Actually, I'm surprised I haven't heard
more of his stuff here, remarks The Man Who Talked with Books.  Anyone
here a Tom Waits fan, by any chance?
Path: mit-eddie!rutgers!apple!bionet!ames!dftsrv!mimsy!chris
From: chris@mimsy.umd.edu (Chris Torek)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Another newcomer enters
Message-ID: <23743@mimsy.umd.edu>
Date: 16 Apr 90 08:08:48 GMT
Organization: U of Maryland, Dept. of Computer Science, Coll. Pk., MD 20742
Lines: 44

A rather plain-looking fellow arrives, coming in from an electronic
fog.  He is average in height, somewhat muscular, 26---though already
his blond hair is thin and receding---wears gold-rimmed glasses, jeans,
and a shirt with a Unix daemon embroidered on it.

At the bar he gives Mike a dollar, orders a ginger ale.  (He gave up
caffiene last year, and never got started with alcohol---a good thing,
he thinks, given his recent experience.)  Eventually he wanders up to
the line, and says: `to caring'.  Then he hurls the glass into the
fireplace.

He looks around, seeing for the first time the many patrons and their
varied forms.  He smiles shyly and stops to exchange greetings with the
cats, for he loves all cats.  (He sometimes thinks he is part cat
himself.)  Finally, since everyone seems to be listening, he speaks.

`I am not going to say much.  I only came upon this place today.  I
wish I had found it a few weeks sooner, but I guess I managed without
it.  Anyway, now I can be more coherent.

`A year ago I was shy, and often alone, but I was happy.  I thought I
cared for and about people, and they for and about me, as much as ever
could be: in a rather abstract way.  A few months ago something
changed.  I met someone who wanted me, and I was not alone anymore.
And I went from ``caring'' to *CARING*.

`Then, suddenly, she left me.

`I have not yet really recovered, but I have changed.  I still do care
for her, and it hurts that she will not speak to me.  But in spite of
the pain and depression, I have found something precious that no one
can take away.  I can care, and not just abstractly.  I can care about
*you*.'

He stops and looks again at each form present in the room, even those
only half-seen, even those in the rafters.  He cannot recall their
names---he has a terrible memory for names---but he loves them all
for being there, for caring about each other.

He smiles even as the tears well up again, then wanders over to a
corner to sit and watch and see who might speak next.
-- 
In-Real-Life: Chris Torek, Univ of MD Comp Sci Dept (+1 301 454 7163)
Domain:	chris@cs.umd.edu	Path:	uunet!mimsy!chris
Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!husc6!ncsuvx!ncsuvm!ucf1vm!popovich
From: POPOVICH@UCF1VM.BITNET (Peter Edward Popovich)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Re: Something to say
Message-ID: <90105.015303POPOVICH@UCF1VM.BITNET>
Date: 15 Apr 90 05:53:03 GMT
References: <78854@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu> <16408@haddock.ima.isc.com>
Organization: University Of Central Florida
Lines: 57

>>   'Twas brillig and the integrals were gyre and gimble in the wabe.
>    'Twas Euclid, and the theorem pi

While listening to the presentation of these poems, Peter places a bill
on the bar counter and sips from the brown bottle he is given in return.
He hesitates when the second has completed. Finally, he decides to speak.

'Submitted for your approval...' says Peter, grinning, as he stands.
'Although I can't can't take credit for writing this, I would like to
share it with all of you. My favorite Jabberwocky derivative.'

                 COMPUTERWOCKY*


     'Twas digital, and the binary bits
       Did gyre and gimble in the core:
     All mimsy were the registers,
       And the main-frame outbore.

     "Beware the Computerwock, my son!
       The bugs in bytes, the cards that patch!
     Beware the GI-GO bird, and shun
       The frumious Bandersnatch!"

     He took his on-line pen in hand:
       Long time the mini-max he sought-
     So rested he by the logic tree,
       And programmed it in thought.

     And, as in uffish thought he stood,
       The Computerwock, with console lights,
     Came whiffling through the I/O queue,
       And burbled bits to bytes!

     One, two!  One, two!  And through and through
       The input pen went snicker-snack!
     He left it dead, its dump unread,
       And went gallumphing back.

     "And hast thou slain the Computerwock?
       Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
     O frabjous day!  I/O!  Overlay!"
       He chortled in his joy.

     'Twas digital, and the binary bits
       Did gyre and gimble in the core:
     All mimsy were the registers,
       And the main-frame outbore.


                          - Shannon Brunjes


* The light-pen is mightier than the vorpal sword!

After presenting the poem, Peter sits back down at the bar. Life goes on.
#
Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!cs.utexas.edu!rutgers!njin!princeton!phoenix!sksircar
From: sksircar@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Subrata Kumar Sircar)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Re: Games
Message-ID: <15378@phoenix.Princeton.EDU>
Date: 16 Apr 90 05:07:07 GMT
References: <90101.202552JLS139@psuvm.psu.edu>
Reply-To: sksircar@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Subrata Sircar)
Organization: SPAMIT
Lines: 35

JLS139@psuvm.psu.edu (Abaddon) writes:
>
>> Thenomain sighs a mock sigh and notices still that there are only two people
>>here for the Poker game.  "I think they're right, Hilda.  I think your
>>enterance bounced higher than a superball on steroids, or one of my checks.
>>But, while you're here now, you in for poker or not?  Two more people and we
>>could manage euchre.  It's the Official Card Game of the State of Ohio, by
>>the way.  My, aren't we a fun state?"

>    Abaddon shows up from SOMEwhere, Mountain Dew in hand. "Euchre! Well I
>thought that was only the official game of my old MI company - the Silent
>Warriors. Count me in. I could use a distraction from the everyday workload."

The lurker in the corner, where he's been attempting to plow through Matrix_X
documention, lifts his head at the mention of Euchre.   "Wow!  It's amazing, 
it seems like a game that very few people know how to play, and I keep running
into them!  Count me in...  unless we can get a bridge game going?"  (Quickly
raising the documention to act as a shield against peanuts  :<)

"As long as I'm out of the shadows for a moment, I might as well make a toast."

He steps over to the chalk line, and the observant will notice that he is
without his (used-to-be) trademark denim winter coat.  ("It's somewhere in Long
Island, I'd assume - I lost it at ICON IX and haven't heard from it since.  :<(

"Here's to Opening Day, spring and a new start.  May everyone who needs one get
a new beginning or a second chance."  Assuming a pitching stance, he gives a
credible imitation of a high-kick, over-the-top fastball which actually lands
in the fireplace.  He seems impressed at the crash...

-- 
Subrata K. Sircar, Prophet & Charter Member of SPAMIT(tm)
sksircar@phoenix.princeton.edu  {}  I deny ever even thinking the above.
   "We expect them [Salvadoran officials] to work toward the elimination
    of human rights."   - VP Dan Quayle
Path: mit-eddie!rutgers!njin!princeton!phoenix!sksircar
From: sksircar@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Subrata Kumar Sircar)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Re: Son of Radio Free Colorado
Message-ID: <15379@phoenix.Princeton.EDU>
Date: 16 Apr 90 05:20:25 GMT
References: <9060064@hpfcso.HP.COM>
Reply-To: sksircar@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Subrata Sircar)
Organization: SPAMIT
Lines: 34

The lurker in the corner is seen to narrow his eyes, and with a small hand
gesture speak a single word.  With a slight <BAMF!> a phone materializes in
front of him.  He picks it up and dials a number...

"Hello, is this Radio Free Colorado?  Cool!  I liked "Elvis is Everywhere" 
'cause I don't think Micheal J. Fox has any Elvis in him either!  But anyway,
could you play a tune by a local Boston band called Tribe a little later? It's
called Abort, and ...  oh, you don't have it?  Yeah, they're distributing it 
themselves, hang on a second."  He again makes a gesture, and a CD appears in
front of him.  He gestures again, and the CD glows and divides into two 
identical disks.  When he gestures a third time, both disks vanish.

"Did you get it?  Great, thanks!  Keep the tunes coming.  Oh, by the way, I
hear there are some problems with the LBJF exit - a lot of people feel that
that's where you should get on the road, and that entrance/exit lane is getting
tied up...  Also, there's heavy traffic on the exits right around the 
Graduation tollway, with the *Pre-Post-Bacclaureate-Oh-My-Gods dominating the
roads.  Just thought I'd let you know.  Have a good one!"
{*Possible trademark/copyright to Betsy Bo?}

He hangs up, and leans back, happy just to be around.  As he starts to dig back
into the computer documentation he was reading, the phone beeps at him.  
"Please deposit fifty cents to continue phone usage."  He mutters irritably,
and banishes the phone with a gesture.  "That'll teach me to get my own phone
next time, instead of the nearest one..."

"AT&T - We don't have to take your crap." - Crazy People


-- 
Subrata K. Sircar, Prophet & Charter Member of SPAMIT(tm)
sksircar@phoenix.princeton.edu  {}  I deny ever even thinking the above.
   "We expect them [Salvadoran officials] to work toward the elimination
    of human rights."   - VP Dan Quayle