I sensed trouble when I saw the first large unmarked van ignoring the speed bumps in the Tech Square parking lot. Soon, several more pulled in, and from each emerged about 20 people in orange space/detox suits. Despite their helmets, you could still hear the clipped "hutt! hutt!" that they were emitting like a gaggle of lost quarterbacks. After quickly setting up what looked like a makeshift chemical detox center outside, they stormed into the lobby, and the guy who was apparently in charge pointed at me and barked "You! Come with me!".

Up the stairs we went, Captain Detox led the way, I followed, and behind us was a sea of orange. At each floor, a group of orange men left the entourage and went (I assumed) to check out the floor. Gasping for breath, I tried to convince him that the elevators still functioned, even in case of a chemical spill.

"Listen, son, have you ever been in a class-5 scenario?" Not looking for a reply, he continued to take the stairs two at a time, reminding me of a mountain goat with a big orange space suit. "Besides, this is not a chemical spill. It's much worse. Have you ever heard of mental pathogens? Clearly not. It's when people get sick from just watching or hearing certain things. You remember when Mary Hart, that "Entertainment Tonight" anchorwoman, caused seizures in some people just by the sound of her voice?"

"Yeah, wasn't there a Seinfeld episode about that?"

"Seinfeld, that commie. Even more recently, thousands of children across Japan became dizzy, nauseated, and were taken to hospitals. All because they watched some cartoon that had flashes at the right frequency. We received a report of a massive outbreak of mental mange in this building."

By the time we reached the ninth floor, it was just me and Commander Plague. He slowly opened the door, and walked toward the new official AI entrance. Suddenly, he stopped. I could see his moustache quiver.

"Good God. I've seen many things in my life, but never, ever, anything like this...."

He pointed at Anne and whispered to me, "She looks at that every day? That poor woman. Oh, the humanity."

Just then, in a true cinematic moment, the sun shone through the window and into the elevator lobby. The new AI Lab logo, imprinted on the door, formed a shadow over the now kneeling Admiral Anthrax. He raised his arms to the sky and screamed out "No! No! Let it stop! How many people must experience the anguish before we can all learn to love one another and design non-visually-offensive logos? How long?"

The answer, at this week's

  G   I   R   L      S   C   O    U    T      B   E   N   E   F   I   T

7th floor playroom February 27, 1998 5:30pm