Crow: Does anybody really know what time it is?
Mike: Does anybody really care about time?
Bob: I can't imagine why. . .

Part 2

"Glitch! Parachute!" Bob extended his hand in a snap

Bob: (Bob) "Ow! My hand!"

and caught Dot's arm as she tumbled past him, and their hands slid along each other's arms until their fingers locked tightly.

Servo: Oh, they've got Masterlock hands.

She arced through the void until she slammed into his body,

Servo: Um, when did they start falling through the void?
Bob: Don't you remember? Back when we found the door, it opened into an empty void.
Crow: No, I think Tom's right, we last left our dimwitted duo "standing side-by-side at the threshold and staring into an impenetrable black abyss."
Mike: (incredulous) So they just jumped in?
Bob: (defensively) I'm sure there was a perfectly good explanation for it.
Crow: There you go again, taking things for granted. . .

her face connecting just above his knees,

Servo: (singing) Oh, the face bone's connected to the. . . knee bone! The
knee bone's connected to the. . . shoulder bone! The shoulder bone's connected to the. . .

and she flung her arms tightly around his legs.

Bob: I thought our fingers were locked tightly.
Mike: You know, I'm having a hard time seeing this. . .

As the chute deployed,

Bob: . . . all its forces on Southern Europe. . .

she could glimpse the door through which they had just fallen, a receding grayish rectangle that soon disappeared. They strained to peer down into the blackness to see where they might land, and with a nerve-wracking slowness,

Crow: They realized what a stupid idea it had been to leap into a bottomless pit of nothing.

a vague streak of pale blue-gray seemed to materialize at some unknown depth. Nanoseconds passed.

Servo: Much unlike this story.

The pale strip very gradually grew slightly wider and much longer, until it filled the width of their periphery. Bob seemed to sense that to either side of this narrow strip there was yet more nothingness,

Mike: And that, in his mind, there was still yet more nothingness.

perhaps infinity,

Bob: (Buzz Lightyear) And beyond!

and he struggled to work the chute and maneuver them closer to the strip.

Suddenly Dot cried out--

Crow: Safe!
Bob: Out!
Crow: Safe!
Bob: Out!
Mike: Okay, break it up, you two. . . .
Bob: (bitterly) He started it.
Crow: Did not!

it was impossible to determine the proximity of the strip, and her legs had just sustained the crushing blow of their combined weight landing on them without preparation.

Mike: Hold on, the combined weight of her legs just landed on her legs without preparation?
Crow: That's what I got out of it. . .

She released her grasp on Bob's legs and he rolled back toward the edge of the strip.

Bob: Oh, I was clowning.

His arms flailing, he tipped over the edge with a yelp,

Mike: Yelp.

and Dot hurled herself forward to grab onto him.

Servo: Geez, these two can't keep their hands off each other!

Bob was dangling on the edge of the strip, suspended only by Dot's straining grasp on his wrist.

Bob: (Bob) Would you let go of my wrist? You're really straining it!

He then realized that the strip was not a solid form projecting out from the unknown depths,

Crow: But a liquid form projecting out from the unknown depths.

but a purely two-dimensional surface, a perfect plane, with no sides, no thickness,

Mike: No density.
Servo: No parking.
Bob: No horseplay.
Crow: No plot.

and he could see the pain in Dot's eyes

Servo: But he had better things to do.

as she endured the hard, supremely sharp edge of the geometric form cutting into her rib cage.

All: AAAAAAAAUGH!
Crow: Thanks a lot, David, I really wanted that memory. . .

"Dot--swing--" he called up,

Bob: (Bob) "Oops, I mean 'Glitch: swing'"

and Dot obliged as best she could,

Servo: Considering she wasn't a shapeshifting wristwatch.

straining for force Bob's arm side to side.

Mike: There's that strain again.

Twisting his legs about,

Bob: (Bob) Ow, stop twisting my legs!

he helped establish a rhythm and,

Crow: . . . before long, they had their first hit single, "Password to Paradise".

swung further and further, was then able to grab onto the strip beside her and pull himself up

Mike: Lodging his ribs in the strip.

just enough to allow her to back off of the knife-blade edge.

Bob: And into the abyss.

Dot heaved a brief sigh of relief

Mike: Is that tense relief or strained relief or. . .?

as she quickly wriggled backward and stretched her legs out to latch her feet onto the opposite site of the strip--

Servo: Defying all the laws of physics.

her boots withstood the sharp edge much better than her body suit--

Crow: But not as well as her ribs.

and then pulled firmly on Bob's arm. With just a bit more struggling,

Bob: The audience was finally able to picture what was going on.

Bob finally dragged himself up onto the strip, at which point he rolled onto his back beside Dot, who remained on her stomach, and they laid still until they caught their breath.

Mike: I thought Dot was on the bottom of the strip.
Servo: Don't question it. Just be glad that improbable scene is over.

Dot moaned. Bob rolled over onto his side to face her.

Crow: (Bob) So. . . was it good for you?

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she grunted as she pushed herself up with her hands.

Bob: (Dot) Just let me tuck my intestines back in here.

Bob's eyes flung wide.

Crow: Open.

"No, you're not!" Dot instantly realized she wasn't, either,

Servo: (Dot) Oh yeah, that's right, I was nearly cut in half, I remember now!

as she noticed an odd deposit on the deep blue-gray strip:

Mike: A rich vein of coal ore.

a faintly glowing pale green line about the width of her body. She sat up on her knees

Servo: Which sustained the crushing blow of her combined weight.

and looked down with a gasp at the gash across her torso, at the brilliantly scintillating green pinpoints of bits escaping her body and staining her suit.

Crow: Oh no! This stain will never come out!

"Glitch!

Mike: (Bob) Martini!

File patch!" A patch roll promptly emerged from Glitch's faceplate. Bob yanked it off with a jerk,

Crow: Hmm. . . nope, too easy.

ripped away the file tab, secured the free end to one side of her torso and stretched it across the wound

Bob: Stretched her torso across the wound?

to the other side of her torso. He broke off the roll and rubbed the end into place under her arm, then tossed the empty roll over the edge of the strip.

Crow: Somewhere, a Native American is crying.

They were both too shaken

Mike: Not stirred.

to talk. True, they had seen Sprites hurt and deleted, and they had been injured before,

Bob: But that was all in good fun.

but this was a much more insidious form of danger than they had ever experienced. The fact that there were no game sprites, no weapons, no manifest dangers of any kind made it unnerving to the extreme--

Servo: (Bob) You know, I miss the photon bullets.

and it was a single simple geometric plane, and it could have deleted them more easily than a volley of photon bullets.

Crow: But not as easily as a high school network server.

There had never been an environment such as this in any game before.

Bob: Not even in a Microsoft Entertainment Pack.

Finally Bob murmured, "You gonna be able to walk?"

Dot decided to try standing first, and once on her feet she felt confident that she could move.

Servo: A young sprite must walk within a few minutes of its birth lest it be picked off by
scavengers.

"Well, at least it's dry in here.

Mike: Say what you will, Dot Matrix can see the bright side of anything.
Servo: Oh my God, we're all going to die!
Bob: (Dot) Well, it could be snowing. . .

Wherever here is." She looked down at Bob, his face distorted with concern and fear,

Servo: And constipation.

and tried to smile through her pain. "Let's go."

Bob slowly rose to his feet and looked down the strip. Nothing but blackness in either direction--

Bob: Just like this story.

just the strip disappearing into a pair of vanishing points. "Which way?" he shrugged.

"I don't think it matters," Dot quipped.

Crow: (unhumorously) Ha ha ha.
Mike: Please leave the quips to us professionals, Dot, you might hurt yourself.

Bob looked down at her. She tried to get him to stop fretting by flashing him a cute grin.

Servo: Aww, isn't that cute?
Bob: She's so adorable when she's maimed.

"OK," he sighed, "let's try this way."

Mike: (Patrick Swayze) Or the highway.

He started off down the strip, his arm firmly wrapped around Dot's side. "You can let go, " she said as they walked. "I'll be fine." Bob let his arm relax a little, but he did not let go.

Servo: "No" means "no", Bob.

***

Through a tiny opening in the defense field surrounding the Central Office, Phong observed a game cube in the distance, an angry-looking obelisk

Crow: Isn't that a lizard that turns things to stone?
Servo: You're thinking of a basilisk.
Mike: Or a cockatrice.
Bob: Or an orifice.
(Everyone turns to look at Bob)
Bob: What?

jutting out of Mainframe's landscape. He held his fingertips together contemplatively, but they dithered ever so slightly with worry. "Hmmm... This is most unusual."

Bob: Curiouser and curiouser!
Servo: Bob, that Alice in Wonderland thing wasn't funny the first time.
Bob: Sorry.

Number One

Servo: (singing) Is the loneliest number that you'll ever do. . .

leaned over Phong's shoulder for a better view,

Crow: (Phong) Hey! Go get your own!

and as Phong spun around, they ended up nose-to-nose.

Crow: They stole that scene directly from Lady and the Tramp.

Phong jerked his head back. "The game has been running for nearly seventy million cycles."

Mike: (to Bob) How long is that?
Bob: Ouch! You don't want to know.

Number One straightened. "Games have been known to run longer."

"Yes, you are right, Number One." Phong circled around him

Servo: The wild Phong often runs in circles to confuse and distract its prey.

and approached his work station. "But rarely when Bob and Dot have been inside." He tapped at the controls, but as his head was swimming with concern,

Bob: And alcohol. . .

he could make no sense whatsoever of the data that was then displayed.

Crow: (Phong, reading) "Push the big green button you dope". . . nope, I'm not getting it.

He studied it for a moment, adjusting his spectacles and feigning comprehension, until he could no longer continue the pretense.

Mike: (Phong) I can't take it anymore! My life is a total lie! (dissolves into sobs)
Crow: Uh, Mike, calm down honey. . .

He sighed, "I regret I am unable to decipher this code. Perhaps, Number One, if you could tell me who else was in that sector when the game cube dropped."

Servo: Whew! That's a long sigh!

Number One cleared his throat. "It happens to be a very busy sector. Lots of traffic and fragmentation.

Mike: Lots of air strikes and people being blown to bits.

We do not have a firm count yet, but

Bob: We do have a sort of gellatinous count.

there are at least forty-seven sprites reported to be missing." He made some effort to appear confident.

Crow: (Number One) I'm confident that they'll turn up dead.

"Of course, this could explain the unusual length of the game. It could be very complex."

"Hmmm... You may be right." Phong raised an index finger. "It may also be that Megabyte is somehow involved.

Mike: Like it's ever anyone else.
Bob: It might be Hexidecimal. . .

You will notice that his attempts to break into the Central Office have ceased."

Servo: (Phong) I'll keep you posted as to when you will notice it.

He rolled up to face Number One. "I want you to deploy all available personnel

Bob: On Alaska.

around the game cube. Have emergency units standing by as well--there may be wounded to attend to when the game is finally over."

Crow: (Phong) We should probably have a buffet ready or something.

Number One saluted sharply. "Sir!"

"I am a single being, Number One. Not a soldier."

Mike: (Bones) Dammit, Jim!

"Sorry..." Number One turned to leave, then paused and looked back. "I am sure they are all right, " he said, clipping off another automatic "Sir." Phong nodded and yanked on his beard distractedly.

***

It was a good thing, Bob thought, that he was slightly ahead of Dot.

Mike: That way he didn't slip on her trail of blood.

It would have hurt her much more than him as he collided with an invisible barrier.

Crow: An invisible barrier? What did it look like?

Dot could not avoid bumping into Bob as he reeled back, and she stifled a cry of pain. Bob spun around and managed to catch her before she fell back.

Mike: Wow, that was pretty intense there, I didn't think he was going to catch her. . .

"What is it?" she said, her voice slightly strained. Bob found it very difficult to tear his eyes from her

Crow: Well, be more careful with the crazy glue next time!

and turned to find out. She stepped past him and approached the barrier, arms outstretched. There it was. She could feel the surface, slick and smooth and hard as a disk drive platter.

Servo: As a what?
Mike: Bob? A little help?
Bob: I have no idea.

Yet totally invisible.

Crow: Like the plot.
Bob: (to Crow) How can a plot be invisible?
Crow: There's none to be seen.

Bob simply stared at the strip,

Mike: Because he hadn't seen enough of it during their two-day walk across it.

which appeared to continue on ahead into the distance. It was odd that such a smooth surface bore no reflection of them. Then he finally thought to raise his arm.

Bob: Ooo! Teacher! Call on me!

"Glitch.

Mike: (Bob) Toupee.

Analysis." Glitch could provide no useful information, and so the display simply remained blank.

Servo: Oh, it's a Microsoft key tool.

Better that than embarrass itself with a bright yellow smiley-face, which it sometimes did when it was stymied.

Bob: Or the blurred green frowny-face, which it sometimes did when it was stoned.

Bob shrugged. "Nothing. It's as if it doesn't exist."

Crow: (Dot) Are you sure you didn't accidently scan your mind again?

"Oh, it exists, all right," dot remarked as she turned around, pressed her back against the cool surface, and allowed herself to slide down slowly until she was seated on the strip. Arms on her knees, her head drooped.

Bob crouched down beside her. "You gonna be all right?"

Crow: (Bob) . . . If I leave you here and save my own sorry butt?

Dot nodded with a grimace. "Well, where do we go from here?"

Servo: (singing) Still looking for that blue. . . jeaned. . . baby queen. . . prettiest girl
I ever seen. . .

"I'm not sure. I don't know if you could make it much further anyway."

Mike: (Bob) So I'm just leaving you for dead.

"So, do we just sit here? Wait for something to happen? We could be stuck in a logic loop, and might be here forever."

Mike: Oh boy, guys, I think she's onto something here. . .
Crow: (panicked) What do we do, Mike?
Mike: I don't know, but I think she's onto something here. . .
Crow: (panicked) What do we do, Mike?
Mike: I don't know, but I think she's --
Servo: Would you cut it out!

In a fit of frustration, Bob knelt along the edge of the strip and peered down into the emptiness below. "Glitch.

Bob: Oreo.

Searchlight." A white beam cut a shaft through the blackness, only to be swallowed whole.

Servo: A snake unhinges its jaw in order to swallow beams of light whole.
Mike: You're really into that whole "nature documentary" thing today.
Servo: Well, I saw that National Geographic last night, and it really. . .
Crow and Bob: Shhh!

Bob straightened and snorted, and stared blankly down the strip away from the barrier. Then he noticed a faint, wavering light on the strip that cast a jittery shadow of his body.

Mike: Wow, what did he snort?

Spinning around, he detected a flickering pattern of random blobs of colored light on the surface of the barrier,

Crow: He didn't actually see them, but he had a rough idea that they were there.

each blob of color larger than his body,

Bob: And smaller than a planet.

the array of blobs continuing on in all directions of the barrier plane as far as the eye could see.

Dot looked up at Bob's slack jaw,

Mike: And realized that he didn't have games on his mind.
Bob: Hey!
Crow: Think that's why this is called "No Time for Games"?
Bob: C'mon, stop it! That's enough!

and with a grunt promptly rose to her feet and turned. Their eyes lit up as they watched the flickering color patterns dance across the surface, and they found themselves grinning.

Crow: Duh. Pretty.

It was a little while before they noticed that their necks were getting sore from looking up and around so much.

"It seems to be just a random pattern," Bob commented.

Bob: Like this story.

"I don't know," Dot frowned. "It could be we're just too close. Maybe if we backed up..."

Mike: (Dot) . . . We'd be further away!

Exchanging a shrug of "why not?", they started back down the strip away from the glowing barrier. They stopped every so often to look back at the light show. Nothing.

Servo: No blobs of light, no trail leading back, nothing.

They continued on. Unable to make any sense of the flickering pattern, they stopped less and less frequently, until they simply resigned themselves to the fact that there was nothing to make of it, and just continued on, for lack of anything better to do.

Servo: Nothing better to do. Let's just spend the rest of our lives walking.
Crow: I thought Dot couldn't go much further.
Mike: Well, remember, that was Bob's diagnosis, so any actual validity is probably coincidental.

Eventually they reached their starting point--Bob silently pointed down at the faintly glowing bit stain from Dot's wound.

Mike: (Bob) Hee hee. That's you.

She flinched at seeing it and instinctively held her torso with her hands.

Servo: (Dot) Thanks for reminding me, you knob.

They looked at the strip stretching into infinity

Bob: (Buzz Lightyear) And beyond!
Crow: Shut up.

before them.

Mike: Of course it stretched to infinity before them, they weren't even trying to stretch to infinity.

Too drained to move another step, they simultaneously glanced back over their shoulders.

Mike: Wow, how long do you think it took them to practice glancing over their shoulders at the exact same time?

Then they saw it. Eyes widening with awe, they exchanged a glance at one another

Servo: Who else would they exchange a glance with?

as they turned slowly to face it.

Crow: Because if they quickly turned to face it, there would be enough time in this segment to reveal what "it" is and the suspense would be shot.

***

It was just a red-blue streak in the corner of his eye, but that was enough, and Number One was off, rising up the side of the game cube at a breathless pace.

Bob: (Number One) Quick! The new Pepsi cans are out! RUUUN!
Servo: He was running directly up a perpendicular surface?
Crow: Apparantly.

Slipping up over the lip, he spotted Hack and Slash near the center of the cube top, and they looked mighty suspicious.

Mike: The way they were maliciously loitering and everything.

One of them--he could never tell which was which, but it was the blue one--was messing about with something on the game cube surface, while the other was looking over his shoulder.

Crow: (Number One) Stop looking over my shoulder! Get yer own!

"And just what are you two doing?" Number One bellowed.

Crow: This is so racist! We were just out for a walk, okay?

Hack and Slash both jumped. Then, while Slash quickly returned to what he was doing, Hack placed himself between Slash and Number One.

"Nothing," Slash blurted. "Nothing whatsoever. Just looking around. Nice cube, isn't it? Glorious colors..."

Bob: So suddenly Slash is an art critic?
Servo: So why is the one in back carrying on the conversation?

Number One eyed them suspiciously. "Just looking around? Then what is your idiot partner up to back there?"

Crow: Baking a cake.

Hack spread his arms so as to block Number One's approach. What could be possibly be doing to a game cube, anyway?"

"You may be trying to drain its power, for one. You've been known to do that."

Mike: (Number One) You might be acting like idiots, you've been known to do that.

"Come now, officer, does it look like we could do that, really? Where is our energy vessel?"

Number One stopped.

Bob: Smoking.

He could not permit himself to admit the creep was right--

Servo: So he went into denial.

but, whatever they were doing, they could not be stealing energy with so little hardware.

Bob: It's not the size of your hardware, it's how you --
Mike: (surprised) Bob?
Servo: I think you've been hanging around with Crow too long, my friend.
Bob: (a little shocked) Yeah, I think so too. . .

"Nevertheless," he finally grumbled, "I must ask you two to leave the vicinity at once." Hack whipped around to Slash. "How is it going?" he asked urgently in a strained whisper.

Mike: David must have been going through a lot of strain as he was writing this.
Crow: Maybe he should do some deep breathing excercises or something.

"How is what going?" came Number One's voice, slightly falsetto.

Servo: You know, I took him for a soprano.
Bob: He's actually more of a baritone.

Slash responded as if he were answering Hack. "The break-in, of course!"

Mike: Wait, wait, wait. . . so Slash thought that Hack said "How is it going?" and immediately
followed it with "How is what going?"
Crow: (deep sigh) I don't know, all I saw was a big, muddled blur.

Hack threw up

All: Ewww!

his arms

All: Oh.

and began to spin around.

Crow: Danger, Will Robinson!

"No, no, now he knows!"

"Break-in?" Number One hollered. He wrapped his communicator.

Mike: And put it under the Christmas tree.

"Bring up reinforcements! Immediately!"

Servo: Bring up my lunch! Immediately!

Hack spun back to Slash." Now look what you've--"

Servo: KABOOM!
Mike: And World War III begins in earnest. Thanks, Slash!

He was cut off as Slash grabbed his arm and pulled him down through the game cube surface. Number One could scarcely believe his eye. And he blinked as the two forms quickly disappeared out of sight.

Servo: Good thing Dave explained that, I thought they were disappearing into sight.

Heaving

All: Eww!

a sigh,

All: Oh.
Crow: Let's not do that anymore, it's getting annoying.
Mike: Good idea.

he tapped his communicator again. "Belay that request for reinforcements. Get me Phong instead!"

Servo: <static noise> Oh, sure, is there anything else you'd like me to not get you?

***

At the sound of buzzing static from the secured com channel, Megabyte immediately whirled around and opened the Vid Window.

Bob: (Megabyte) Oh boy, just in time for the "Static Millisecond" on KNNB!
(Everyone looks at Bob)
Bob: The, uh, "Static Hour". Sorry.

While they jabbered incessantly about their success at breaking into the game cube,

Servo: The story jabbered incessantly about its inability to find a central plot.

Hack and Slash fought over monopolizing the screen.

Mike: One owned Boardwalk, the other owned Park Place. Something had to give.

"Just let me see!" Megabyte boomed, and with another burst of chatter, Hack and Slash obliged and moved out of the way. Megabyte seemed disappointed.

Crow: Final Fantasy VII just couldn't live up to the hype.

"Looks fairly ordinary, if not just a little quiet. Vaguely similar to that childish game Dot mentioned in her distress message."

Bob: Candyland?

He tapped at his console. "I want a full backup of the entire contents of this game.

Mike: Software piracy! He must be evil!

Do not let a single line of code escape your attention. If you do nothing else right while you're in there, at least get this accomplished, or I'll see to it you won't emerge from the cube again!" Naturally, he was answered with an endless stream of

Crow: Lawsuits from the Evil Minions' Union.

assurances.

***

Phong continued pacing in a dizzying circle until he had left a permanent damaged track in the floor. Number One's message did not help matters. "Hack and Slash have broken into the game cube?"

Bob: Who said that?

"That's correct, sir," Number One answered.

Mike: And how much did you wager? Nothing? Oh, too bad. . .

"Hmmm... This is bad," Phong murmured.

"Er, begging your pardon, sir, but... isn't that Bob's line?"

Bob: Hey! Yeah! Why I oughtta. . .
Crow: "This is bad"?? What kind of catch phrase is that?
Bob: Well, it's a lot better than "Bite me" or "Movie sign" or. . .
Mike: Look, we all have crappy catch phrases. Let's just leave it at that.

"You are correct, Number One.

Servo: (Ed McMahon) You are correct, sir!

Forgive me. Can you tell me if there was any energy signature left behind on the cube's surface? Any clue as to how they broke in?"

Crow: Well, we did leave the front door unlocked, and. . .

"Negative. But I suspect it was an old style

Mike: Beer.

non objective

Servo: So it's very willing.

decompiling tool, the kind they used to use before the advent of GOOP."

Servo: Nickelodean GOOP.

"Ah, yes, Graphical Object-Oriented Program.

Mike: (Maxwell Smart) The old lockpick in the GOOP trick.

It was so long ago, I had almost forgotten what compiling was like before GOOP.

Crow: (Phong) Back in my time all we had was ones and zeroes. Sometimes we didn't even have
ones. I had to write an entire operating system with just zeroes!

And yet, at the same time, it seems like only seconds ago..."

Mike: Software sure is becoming obsolete quickly these days.

As Phone drifted into reverie, Number One cleared his throat tactfully.

"Uh, sir... Do you have any orders?"

Bob: I'll have a Number One with a sprite. You get it, cause it's Number One and he's. . .
a sprite. . . with the thing. . .

"Oh, yes, right... Hmmm... Let me see." He opened the drawer in his belly.

Crow: Oh, so that's what I had for lunch.

"I used to have one of those old decompilers around here, somewhere..."

Mike: (Phong) Where's my gun. . .

He rummaged through a pile of odd junk at the bottom of the drawer, but could not find what he sought.

Servo: (Phong) Must've left 'em in my other gut.

"Stand by, Number One.

Mike: (Picard) This is Picard to the bridge. Open hailing frequencies.

I'm going into the archives." Number One's eyebrow rose. He knew this could be a long wait.

Mike: He must be reading the same story we are.

Part 3

Crow: The Search For Part Two

Bob and Dot looked at one another. They could scarcely believe what they saw.

Bob: We couldn't believe our own faces?

It was a face--that much was certain--but such an odd face.

Mike: Oh, come on, like they've never seen each other's face before.

Textured. Imperfect.

Servo: Oh, like yours is so great.

With many fine details--very thin strands of dark material emerging from it in clumps, over the eyes,

Bob: Past the gums. . .

above the ears, and across the top of the head.

Crow: (singing) To grandmother's house we go!

It looked up and seemed to stare at them with an expression of surprise and delight, perhaps. Then the mouth opened.

Mike: And swallowed them whole.

There were many things inside,

Bob: Plaque, tartar, and the dreaded gum disease, Gingivitis.

some familiar, some not. And all glistening with a kind of moistness or something. A strange sound accompanied the mouth movements--

Mike: BUUUUUUURP!
Crow: (making slavering sounds)

speech, obviously, but in a totally foreign language.

Mike: It's just Pig Latin!

Bob looked at Dot again. Her eyes were growing vague,

Bob: And strained. Don't forget strained.

she looked as though she was getting much weaker. "Conserve your energy," he said softly.

Servo: (Bob) Turn off lights when not in use.

She looked up at him, forcing her eyes open. Her thoughts were still clear--he could see that in her intensely curious gaze. "Could that be..." she began.

Crow: (Dot) Daddy? Is that you?

Bob placed a finger across her mouth.

Servo: That's an awkward gesture.

"I need to use your organizer.

Bob: I want to plan my weekend.

Maybe I can translate the speech worth one of the universal file converters."

Servo: Uh, what?
Crow: Yeah, I bet it's chock full of DOS to English dictionaries.

Dot nodded in understanding and handed him the organizer. He fumbled with the controls,

Mike: He's at the 20, he's at the 10, oh! Fumble!

rushing to try and catch some of the strange speech before it stopped. Dot's hand cut in front of him

Bob: She's such a roadhog. Never signals either.

as she reached for the organizer. Her expression suggested that he should not resist,

Mike: (Borg) Resistance is futile.

and he understood and allowed her to operate the unit, though reluctantly.

Bob: Fine, take your stinky organizer back. I didn't want the stupid thing anyway.

She quickly set up all of the translation utilities with a batch file that sequentially sampled the sounds.

Crow: It was a match made in Heaven.

Unfortunately, the speech stopped before the batch file could run it's course. They stared at the unmoving face that seemed to stare back,

Crow: It seemed to stare back, but it was really staring forward.

as if expecting a reply. "We'll just have to wait and see if it talks again," Bob grunted as he tapped his foot in frustration and spun around.

Mike: (Bob) In the meantime, I thought I'd do a stupid little dance here for you.

Then he saw something new--something nearly as unexpected and mystifying as the face,

Crow: The new Dodge Hermes.

although it was at least more familiar. He quietly reached down and tapped Dot lightly on the shoulder. "Look at this."

Dot glanced back in the opposite direction from the giant face to see another enormous glowing plane,

Crow: And he stole this scene from This Island Earth!

parallel to the one displaying the face, on which was displayed an image of Mainframe in it's entirety.

"What does this mean?" whispered Dot.

Bob: It means ReBoot's finally airing in the US!

"I wish I knew," Bob murmured back.

They stared agape at the image, which seemed to be alive. "Look," Bob said, pointing.

Mike: (Bob) There's your blood spot again.

"That looks like Number One at the base of the game cube.

Crow: And look! There's Enzo putting the moves on AndrAIa.

He must have every ship in Mainframe with him.

Mike: How much good are the ships going to do them on land?

Plus a lot of emergency equipment, too. Maybe they got our message." he smiled down at Dot. "Don't worry. Knowing Phong, he'll figure a way out of this for us--"

Bob: Yeah, right, he couldn't figure a way out of a paper bag.

Bob was cut off by the strange voice again.

Mike: (Bob) Dad! Do you mind?

"Dot--quick!"

Dot immediately went to work on the translation utilities again, and within a few nanoseconds, intelligible speech emerged from the organizer.

"...stand me?"

Servo: No, we can't stand you.

"Dot--can you reverse the translation?"

Bob: I want to hear it all garbled up again.

Dot nodded excitedly and tapped the controls. Bob cleared his throat and eyed the face.

Servo: (Bob) Hi, I'm Bob. Do you like to make money? Sure, we all do. . .

"If you understand me, repeat your last message."

Bob: "Your last message."

The face suddenly twisted with a contortion roughly resembling a smile, but a horrendous sound accompanied it which the translation utility failed to process.

Mike: Gotta keep that TV-Y rating, ya know.

Then, when the noise subsided, the face spoke again. "You understand me! Cool! What are you?"

All: We're the Warner Brothers!

Bob and Dot exchanged a look--and enough hidden data was transferred in the look to fill a hard drive...

"We are sprites," Bob answered flatly. "My format is Guardian, my filename is Bob."

The horrendous noise burst forth again,

Bob: But was censored by BS'n'P.

and Bob and Dot had to cover their ears. Then, finally... "Sprites?

Servo: (face) I wanted 7-up!

Talking filenames... This is too much!"

Mustering the nerve to be forward with a potentially dangerous entity, Bob sputtered,

Crow: (Bob) Will you marry me?

"Well, what are you?"

"And they ask questions, too! I can't believe this!--I'm having a conversation with data!"

Mike: (face) Maybe I should lay off the booze.

"Bob asked you a question!" Dot snapped, growing weary of the juvenile dialog.

Servo: I love a story where you can really empathize with the characters.

"Whoa, hold your bits, chick--I'm a human being."

Mike: And a sexist jerk, it seems.

Bob crouched down close to Dot. "What's the organizer make of that?"

Dot was already scrolling through the thesaurus suggestion list as fast as she could. When she reached the bottom, she looked over to Bob and shrugged.

Crow: So, despite the fact that there's no DOS word for "human being", the translator went
ahead and translated it.

Then Bob's eyes widened with an inspiration, and he slowly rose to his feet to face the face. "Are you a user?"

Crow: Well, I was, but I've been in rehab for the past few months, so I've really. . .

(Everyone leaves the theater)

@.. 2.. 3.. 4.. 5.. 6..

(Everyone comes out)

Crow: Nope. Nuh uh.

Mike: No way, no how.

Servo: We're not going along with this.

Bob: Come on! It's possible. . .

Servo: No it's not! I can not come to terms with the idea of the Mainframers coming into contact with the User.

Bob: Well why not?

Crow: Okay, one: a computer monitor doesn't emit sounds, and it doesn't pick up sounds.

Servo: Two: they established that Bob and Dot are smaller than a pixel, so how's the User going to see them in the first place?

Mike: Three: don't forget that convenient "universal translator" thing.

Servo: Four: people who find themselves talking to people in their computers generally realize that it's time to turn off said computer and get some fresh air.

Crow: Unless they're CS majors.

Servo: Right, right. . . but the point is, there's just no way that this scenario could ever, in any way, be played out in real life.

(Alarms suddenly go off. Gypsy pops up.)

Gypsy: Warning! Warning! Sensors have indicated a distortion in the time-space field off the port bow!

Mike: What the -- Cambot, give me Rocket Number Nine, I want to see an exterior of the ship.

(An exterior shot of the ship. It's up against a red background.)

(Back inside.)

Servo: The hell?

Mike: Hey, maybe we're too close. Gypsy, make it pull out a little bit.

Gypsy: Roger!

(Another exterior shot. The SOL looks smaller. There's a 3x3 array of squares, all different colors, and the SOL is in the red square in the center)

(Back inside)

Bob: A giant floating Rubik's Cube in space?

Servo: No, it's obviously some strange, higher being come to help us, like in today's experiment.

Mike: Right, right. Hey, Gypsy, pull out a couple more light years, okay?

Gypsy: Sure thing, Mike!

(Another shot from Rocket Number Nine. This time, all we can see is the face of Bill Corbett against the black background of space.)

(Back inside)

Crow: Wow! Cool! Hey, Gypsy, fire up the universal translator, let's talk to it!

Mike: (clearing his throat.) Umm, hi, gigantic face guy. I'm Mike Nelson.

(Cut to the face)

Face: Grengrich honeydew forest. Quite horse bomb motorcycle speedway. Ventor sable yorkshire stand me?

(Back inside. Everyone looks confused.)

Mike: Umm, this is the Satellite of Love. I'm a human, these three guys are robots, and --

(Back to the face)

Face: Balderdash monkey! Raisins! Dreaded anyone gopher tire chaser?

(Back inside.)

Crow: Umm, no, that wasn't us.

Mike: (to Crow) Hush. (Back to the face) Umm, are you some sort of omnipotent god-like creature who's come here to free us from the clutches of the evil Pearl and Megabyte?

(Back to the face)

Face: How tabletop generator linoleum graphite, spidermonkey, green chortle crab master! (The face opens its mouth and about three seconds of static is heard)

(Inside.)

Servo: I'm guessing that means "no".

Mike: Oh. Figures. Well, thanks anyway. See you around.

Crow: Yeah, give that gerbil coathanger a good waxin' for me, man!

Bob: (eyes widening with inspiration) Are you. . . a User?

(Everyone looks at him for a second. Then the alarms come on)

All: MOVIE SIIIGN!

6.. 5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. @..
Click Here To Enter the Theater...