Agent 888, known as David H to his ceramics instructor, slid his ID card through the security lock with the efficient downward slice of a man testing a Ginsu knife. This business had hardened his face and steeled his eyes. The eunoch voice of the computer responded: "Activating voice-print now. State your name and number." David H imagined what the eunoch would look like naked, and what he or she did on weekends. He leaned into the speaker: "Agent David H. 888." "Thank you," the eunoch answered sweetly, and the steel door slid back, revealing an office of stainless steel walls and art-deco designed black furniture. Directly in front of him, at the end of the room and facing him, sat his boss, a man from whom 888 received all his instructions and whom 888 knew only as "Steve H." "Come in, Double-8-8," Steve H said, offering 888 the black leather chair across the desk. "Some cognac? A French cigarette, perhaps? Coke?" "No coke. Started making my nostrils bleed," 888 said, snorting appreciatively through his reconstructed nasal passages. "No, I meant a beverage." "Oh," 888 said. "I'll have a Surge. Two of them if you can afford it. Three would be perfect." "You know, Agent Double-8-8, I wish you'd take advantage of some of the more prestigous perks of our organization. 'Surge'? Please. Live a little. You possess a license to SPELL, for God's sake!" Steve H dismissed the discussion with the wave of his hand and leaned into his intercom: "Kathy?" From the intercom: "Not Kathy, sir. Allison." Steve H: "Alison?" From the intercom: "No, sir. That's 'ALLISON,' with two L's." Steve H: "Well, I always say that the best things come in pairs, if you know what I mean. Ha ha." Allison from the intercom: "Was that a lewd remark? I'll file sexual harrassment charges against you if that was a lewd remark." Steve H: "uh . . . could you bring us two -- no, THREE -- Surges in here, please?" Allison acknowledged the order and the speaker went dead. "Man, what a bitch," Steve H said. "Not as bad as that Emily from last week. Now THAT was a bitch," 888 said, comforting his boss by putting things in perspective. "Double-8-8, our agents in the field, such as SMUgrad, have good things to say about your work. We understand your contribution to the written word and your work has been noticed by those -- how shall we say? -- by those . . . higher up? You're getting an equipment upgrade, which Q will familiarize you with later on. It's a new keyboard with no caps-lock key. Do you know why we can eliminate the caps-lock key, Double-8-8? Because it can't produce lowercase letters. Ever. So you don't need the caps-lock key. We want you to take it to the field right away. Top priority." A door on the side slid open, and Allison, sporting a right attractive pair of L's, came in carrying a tray on which was perched three bottles of Surge on a tray. 888 wanted to stare at her, but she met his gaze with cross-haired steeliness, and 888 looked away. She set the tray down and turned away. 888 took advantage of her exit as an oppurtunity to observe her lowercase . . . whatever . . . moving from side to side on the way out. She didn't look anything like he expected, and thought she was a much better specimen than that damn Emily. 888 and Steve H sat silently until the the door sealed them in. Steve H continued, "Drop whatever else you're doing, and get right on this." "And who's the target?" "He's known to our field operatives only as 'David.' SMUgrad has been filing reports on him. We think he might be a double agent, working both the real-world and seinfeld newsgroups. Maybe even road-rules. Anyway, he crossposts his complaints about our agents crossposting their work. We think he might be trying to undermine our mission to alter the spelling so the language can be written completely phoneticly. He doesn't see the need to eliminate confusing letter combinations such as 'ph' for 'f' as in 'phone.'" "Ha!" 888 blurts out. "What an idiot!" "Yes, he is, Double-8-8. And with your license to spell, you are to accomplish your mission" -- Steve H leans forward for emphasis -- "you are to accomplish your mission WITHOUT PREJUDICE." 888 had just chugalugged the second bottle of Surge. He took a deep breath, sitting straight, rectifying himself for the weight of the mission. "Yes, sir. Are there particular words you'd like me to change?" "Yes, there is." Steve H reaches into his desk and pulls out a single sheet. "These are the words we want you to attack on your next post." 888 looked over the sheet. An interesting collection of words. They would definitely tax his creativity: crossposting, sermon, menace, group, newsgroup, demons, Jesus, Claire Danes, soup, Aileen, and Les Miserables. This would be quite a challenge. He memorized the list, shoved it into his mouth while he chewed it, and washed it down with the last bottle of Surge. "I'm ready," he said, and got up to go. "Make sure you stop to see Q for your new keyboard." "Yes, sir." "Agent Double-8-8," Steve H said almost warmly as 888 reached the door. 888 turned for this last bit of instruction: "Double-8-8, make sure it's CROSSPOSTED" he said, smiling and nodding. 888 smiled large. "Yes, sir. I most certainly will."
**********888****IMPORTANT SIRMON FROM DAVID H********888******
HAY, DAVID. STOP CRXXXPOSTING. I HAVE SOMETHING I WANT TO SAY TO YOU. WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, TELLING PEEPLE TO STOP CRXXXPOSTING AND THERE YOU ARE CRXXXPOSTING? MAYBE YOU THINK YOU ARE LIKE THAT SOOP NOTZEE ON SEINFELT, TELLING PEEPLE WHAT TO DO. STOP CRXXXPOSTING? YOU SHUD STOP CRXXXPOSTING YERSELF. YOU ARE A MENIS TO THIS NOOZGROOP AND NOBODY AT THE GROOP EVEN ASKED FOR YOUR EVEL VOICE, YOUR DEMUNZ ARE GETTING THE BEST OF YOU. MAYBE YOU SHOUD PREY TO JEZUS, MAYBE HE CAN MAKE THE DEMUNZ RUN INTO THE PIGZ AND DROWN THEMSELVS. IF YOU GET RID OF YOUR DEMUNZ, YOU CAN BE A GUD WON OKAY. BECUZ YOU DO'NT LIKE ME, DO'NT TAKE IT OUT ON MY CHATROOM NEWZGROOP FRENZ OKAY. MAYBE YOUR HOLDING THE WAY I SPELL AGAINST ME, AND YOU DO'NT LIKE THE WAY I SPELL BUT MAYBE YOU NEDE A LESON IN SPELLING, LIKE WHOEVER NAMED THAT MUVIE WITH CLARE DANES I SAW THE UTHER NITE. IT WAS CALLED LAY MISSEROB BUT THAT GUY RUNNING THE PROJEKTER CUDN'T SPELL AT ALL. ALENE SHOWED ME HOW TO SAY IT, LAY MISSEROB, BUT THE WAY THAT MUVIE GUY SPELLED IT IS NOT WURTH THE TIME.
I AM CROXXPOSTING THIS IMPORTANT SIRMUN TO MAEK SHURE YOU SEE IT DAVID OKAY.
YER PAL DAVID H *******************888****************************