For those of you who can't be bothered to read to the end, the moral
of today's story is "DONOR SOUGHT: GSB SEEKS FROST-FREE REFRIGERATOR."

The following story is a reconstruction based on rumor, innuendo, and
personal observation of the scene of the incident.  In short, it's
plenty accurate enough to "reenact" on the Discovery channel or
America's Most Wanted, but as scientists and engineers you shouldn't
believe a word of it... *except* for the part where I tell you that
you want to give a fridge to GSB.  You should definitely believe that
part.

------

The copper bus-bar was about 6 inches wide and maybe 1/4 inch thick.
It lived in the basement of Tech Square.  Naked, the bar ran for
several feet alongside a half-dozen or so identical bars, passing over
a large boiler and out through a wall.  Although uninsulated, it was
protected from casual contact by its height, suspended as it was mere
inches below the concrete ceiling, and also by a steel grate mounted a
few inches below.

Collectively, the copper bus and its comrades were whispered to carry
nearly half a megawatt of power into the building.

Monday night of last week, this particular copper bar suddenly melted.
A combination of molten copper and kilowatts of electricity burned a
hole several inches in diameter through the steel grating below;
glowing metal rained down harmlessly on the boiler, but set fire to
some detritus -- perhaps pipe insulation, perhaps old paper -- on the
floor.

Reacting to the short between powered bus and grounded grate, a huge
circuit breaker under the street outside flipped and Tech Square went
dark.  Emergency lights provided stark illumination in the halls and
stairwells.  Confused graduate students roamed the halls.  The ice in
the freezer of a refrigerator so old that the door had a mechanical
latch began to melt.  9th floor biologists sprang into action to keep
their special freezers a'freezin'.

Smoke filtered out of the mechanical room and filled the basement,
where smoke detectors quietly failed to detect anything.  As if bored,
the smoke travelled up elevator shafts to the 8th and 9th floors of
the building, where smoke detectors detected smoke but failed to
actually set off alarms or summon the fire department.

Fortunately, the actual fire was minor and burned itself out without
requiring human intervention.

A couple hours later, the emergency lights died as their batteries
went flat.  The ancient refrigerator began to dribble, and a
long-suffering saint wheeled the fridge to a nearby bathroom to
defrost in peace.  Most of the building's occupants had long since
given up and gone home.  Biologists began a ritual that would continue
for two days, tramping up and down nine flights of stairs to service
their refrigerators.

Sometime after midnight the fire department finally heard that there
had been some sort of explosion, fire, and smoke in the building, and
showed up to check it out.  The fire chief was not happy with the
non-performance of the alarm system, and the building was declared
unfit for human habitation; firemen did a floor-by-floor sweep of the
entire building.

The next day, one Richard Stallman was sighted exiting the building
with a suitcase, apparently having been entirely overlooked by the
fire department in the previous night's sweep.

Pained biologists continued their ritual, climbing the stairs to the
9th floor every six hours to tend to their freezers.

After two days, electricians had finally worked around the failed
busses by building an elaborate metal tray carrying perhaps a dozen
inch-thick, insulated cables all the way around the outside of the
boiler room.  If you stand in the basement and look up at just the
right spot, you'll see them carrying the power that once again courses
through our building on those occasions when NStar hasn't blown up a
nearby power substation or two.

A couple days after that, the soggy old GSB refrigerator was dried out
and pressed back into service for a final few days or weeks, but it
was agreed upon by all and sundry that in light of its age and NStar's
general incompetence, it would need to be replaced with a frost-free
model at the earliest possible opportunity.

That's where you come in, of course: since you're planning to donate
your old kitchen fridge to GSB, why don't you come make the
announcement at tonight's...

****************** G I R L  S C O U T  B E N E F I T ******************
******************        5:30pm  7AI Playroom       ******************

PS If you can't make it to GSB tonight but want to donate your fridge
   anyhow, email me and I'll be more than happy to arrange to come
   pick it up.