A Sorry Lack Of Rabbits

Exactly one person on my friendslist did the rabbithole thing -- and that, oddly, wasn't the person who brought it to my attention. And both those were people on the pro-writing side who likely don't know me from Adam (I'd think that would be easy. Adam's much prettier, or so about 50% of the population, including me, say.)

As for me, well, I was saved from the single most boring day at work so far this year, a day with roughly two hours of real work and five hours of boredom, because I bought a newspaper.

Understand, I never buy newspapers. But, being tired, I'd forgotten there was an archery tournament tonight, and I thought looking for a decent movie might be an idea.

So I checked the movie listings, and stopped dead.

The last box in the Cinema City 8 section read as follows (Some letters omitted):

K_______ ______ Aaron, we need you.
Please contact the following number.

And the number itself, of course.

Now, virtually everybody who knows me knows me as Lenora Rose Heikkinen, or some variant thereof, that beign my real name. A few SCA people mostly know me as Lady Gwen, though a few still get confused and say Gwendolyn, though the long version is wrong.

Few people actually know I have any other personae. Of those, one might be able to guess the first name I blanked out, or at least the short version. NOBODY but me knows that persona has a middle name, much less what it is.

Still, I knew what I had to look forward to if I went to work. So when I got off the bus, I stopped in at the Blood Services building, and used the payphone to call the number.

And someone picked up, and said, "When i was a tiny little girl."

If she hadn't singsonged it, I would ahve been stumped and hung up. But she did, and with the hint of tune, I answered, a bit bemused, "I ate my herrings with gusto?"

"Miss Aaron," she said. "We are glad to hear from you. A taxi will be waiting outside -- you'll know it by the number."

And she hung up.

I shrugged, and looked outside. Sure enough, a taxi had pulled into the turnaround, and the number - well, I'm not telling. It was my PIN in University. Yes, I still remember that one.

Okay. So far, there's an uncanny amount of knowledge about me here, including the unpredictable fact that I'd be dumb enough to forget the archery tournament tonight and think about a movie instead. So i should panic?

Nah. I felt a little regret for the fact that i would, after all, miss seeing Colin come in second - 44 to 45 - in the tournament that would be tongiht, but, well, a day staring at Abebooks and wedding invitation related crud? This promised to be much more interesting at least.

The driver didn't speak until I got in. Then he headed for the airport. He did remark, about halfway there, "It's a pity, Miss Aaron, that you aren't in better physical condition."

"Do I need to be?"

"Not necessarily," he said. "This seems more of an exercise for ingenuity than physical endeavours. Nonetheless, we did take the precaution of securing your bow."

I chose not to point out that I'm running sadly low on arrows of any kind, much less ones that would be truly effective for combat. Besides, it's a gun world nowadays. A two kilometers away sniper world in some places.

"Where exactly will we be heading?"

And that, of course, is where I run into the details that are currently classified. However, I will apologize for posting so late. It's taken me this long to get here and assess the situation. I will say that a day of travel isn't much more stimulating than a day of not-working at work, and wears you down more, but this particular problem. Yes, I see why they wanted me. This is a unique and troubling threat to our safety. Far more unusual than terrorists, or any of the dangers, real or imagined, that Bush rambles against.

This is the first time I've had access, in the midst of all the travel, to anything resembling an internet connection. And this is a fuzzy old dial-up,a dn the power's flickered twice so far. So I'll fiish here, until the mission's accomplished.

I can say this, though. Beware any stuffed animals in your house. Especially new ones. Don't touch them, and if at any point they move -- get yourself and all your loved ones away from them.

And if your skin and hair start to feel fuzzier -- it's probably too late.

I'll report back tomorrow. Those of you going to the SCA event tomorrow, have fun for me!

A Sorry Lack Of Rabbits

Exactly one person on my friendslist did the rabbithole thing -- and that, oddly, wasn't the person who brought it to my attention. And both those were people on the pro-writing side who likely don't know me from Adam (I'd think that would be easy. Adam's much prettier, or so about 50% of the population, including me, say.)

As for me, well, I was saved from the single most boring day at work so far this year, a day with roughly two hours of real work and five hours of boredom, because I bought a newspaper.

Understand, I never buy newspapers. But, being tired, I'd forgotten there was an archery tournament tonight, and I thought looking for a decent movie might be an idea.

So I checked the movie listings, and stopped dead.

The last box in the Cinema City 8 section read as follows (Some letters omitted):

K_______ ______ Aaron, we need you.
Please contact the following number.

And the number itself, of course.

Now, virtually everybody who knows me knows me as Lenora Rose Heikkinen, or some variant thereof, that beign my real name. A few SCA people mostly know me as Lady Gwen, though a few still get confused and say Gwendolyn, though the long version is wrong.

Few people actually know I have any other personae. Of those, one might be able to guess the first name I blanked out, or at least the short version. NOBODY but me knows that persona has a middle name, much less what it is.

Still, I knew what I had to look forward to if I went to work. So when I got off the bus, I stopped in at the Blood Services building, and used the payphone to call the number.

And someone picked up, and said, "When i was a tiny little girl."

If she hadn't singsonged it, I would ahve been stumped and hung up. But she did, and with the hint of tune, I answered, a bit bemused, "I ate my herrings with gusto?"

"Miss Aaron," she said. "We are glad to hear from you. A taxi will be waiting outside -- you'll know it by the number."

And she hung up.

I shrugged, and looked outside. Sure enough, a taxi had pulled into the turnaround, and the number - well, I'm not telling. It was my PIN in University. Yes, I still remember that one.

Okay. So far, there's an uncanny amount of knowledge about me here, including the unpredictable fact that I'd be dumb enough to forget the archery tournament tonight and think about a movie instead. So i should panic?

Nah. I felt a little regret for the fact that i would, after all, miss seeing Colin come in second - 44 to 45 - in the tournament that would be tongiht, but, well, a day staring at Abebooks and wedding invitation related crud? This promised to be much more interesting at least.

The driver didn't speak until I got in. Then he headed for the airport. He did remark, about halfway there, "It's a pity, Miss Aaron, that you aren't in better physical condition."

"Do I need to be?"

"Not necessarily," he said. "This seems more of an exercise for ingenuity than physical endeavours. Nonetheless, we did take the precaution of securing your bow."

I chose not to point out that I'm running sadly low on arrows of any kind, much less ones that would be truly effective for combat. Besides, it's a gun world nowadays. A two kilometers away sniper world in some places.

"Where exactly will we be heading?"

And that, of course, is where I run into the details that are currently classified. However, I will apologize for posting so late. It's taken me this long to get here and assess the situation. I will say that a day of travel isn't much more stimulating than a day of not-working at work, and wears you down more, but this particular problem. Yes, I see why they wanted me. This is a unique and troubling threat to our safety. Far more unusual than terrorists, or any of the dangers, real or imagined, that Bush rambles against.

This is the first time I've had access, in the midst of all the travel, to anything resembling an internet connection. And this is a fuzzy old dial-up,a dn the power's flickered twice so far. So I'll fiish here, until the mission's accomplished.

I can say this, though. Beware any stuffed animals in your house. Especially new ones. Don't touch them, and if at any point they move -- get yourself and all your loved ones away from them.

And if your skin and hair start to feel fuzzier -- it's probably too late.

I'll report back tomorrow. Those of you going to the SCA event tomorrow, have fun for me!