From: mdm@sparc2.Prime.COM (Michael D. McAfee)
Subject: December 29, 1992 (long, silly post)
Organization: Yale CS Mail/News Gateway
Date: Tue, 29 Dec 1992 19:30:58 GMT


	WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING

		What follows is an extremely silly post and should be
	taken with an amazing amount of salt.  You have my permission
	to copy it, as long as you don't try to sell it.  Enjoy :).




		The dark elf entered Callahan's, waving to the folks
	as hugs are shared.  Her went up to the bar and started to order,
	when suddenly everything went electric blue...

		The queezy feeling left Sam quickly, as usual when
	leaping.  Quickly he tried to ascertain where and when he was.
	Apparently, he was in a bar, a saloon of some sort.  He was dressed
	in jeans and a t-shirt.  He looked up to see the bartender
	smiling at him.

		"The usual?"  asked the fellow behind the bar.

		"Uh," Sam replied, "sure.  The usual."

		The bartender went to get the drink, and by moving
	revealed a mirror.

		Sam blinked, then blinked again.  He rubbed his eyes,
	but the image stayed the same.  He rubbed his finger along his
	ears, making sure that yes, they actually were pointed.  He still
	couldn't believe it.  Plus, his skin was the color of midnight,
	and his long hair that of moonlight.

		But that strangeness paled compared what else he saw in
	the mirror.  Slowly he turned around to the rest of the saloon.
	The mirror had not lied.  The place was filled with...creatures,
	for lack of a better term.

		"Oh, boy."

		As his drink arrived, two attractive woman walked up to
	him.

		"Michael," said one who looked like a librarian, but
	walked with a bounce in her step, "welcome back."  She gave him a 
	big hug, and scritched his ears a little.  This took Sam by
	surprise, but he figured he might as well return the gesture.

		The other woman, who looked like a sprite, also hugged him,
	and added, "Thanks for getting those gifts.  I've got them stored up
 	for the big party later.  You'll be there, won't you?"

		"Uh, wouldn't miss it for the world."  Sam gave a weak
	smile, and hoped it was sincere enough.  But his attention kept
	wandering to the large avian creature and what seemed to be a blue
	dragon in the back.

		"Great," replied the librarian, "maybe you can join us
	in the hot tub."  She pointed over to the structure, into which
	a group of people were looking.  "Once they get the Dalek out,
	that is."

		"Dalek?"  

		"Yeah, he fell in when the Doctor impaired his vision.
	Oh, well, we've got to go greet some newcomers.  Bye."

		"Bye," Sam returned.  They walked off.

		Daleks?  Sam had heard of them, but where.  Wait,
	back when they were doing research on the project, his friends
	kept showing videotapes of some british sci-fi TV show.  And there
	were these robots in them called Daleks.  But that was just a show.

		Sam's focus went to a corner where a large catman was
	talking with a fellow in a dark cloak.  They were joined by a
	purple man and a small grey bird.

		"Where am I?"  He whispered to himself.

		A voice popped up from his left.  "Callahan's, Sam."

		Sam nearly jumped off his stool.  "Al!"  His friend was
	dressed in one of his standard leisure suits, in one hand a big
	cigar, in his other the portable link to Ziggy, the computer
	back in the future.  Al was a hologram, whom only Sam could see
	and hear.

		"Al, what the hell is this place?"

		Al pointed over to a door with the word "Folks" on it.
	"That's a restroom.  Meet me in there and we can talk."

		Sam nodded, and began to make his way.  He passed by a
	couple of cartoon mice and cats along the way, but he tried to
	act natural.

		Al was waiting in the folks' room.  One of the advantages
	of being a hologram; it made travel easy.

		"Okay," said Sam, "who am I this time?  And what am I?
	And what the hell is going on in this place?"

		Al pushed a few buttons on the link.  "According to
	Ziggy, you're Michael, the Chaotic, a dark elf from the Boston
	area.  You're a regular at Callahan's Saloon, which is where you
	are now."

		"A dark elf?  Al, there've never been elves, not real
	elves, on Earth.  Or cat people, or purple people, or cartoon
	mice that walk around."

		"Yeah, well," Al hit a few more buttons, "Ziggy figures
	there's an eighty percent chance that, since lots of people
	believe in Callahan's, then it exists, and you're here."

		Sam started to get a headache.  "Okay, then, how do I
	get out?  What's my goal?"

		"Well, that's kind of tricky."

		"Tricky?  What do you mean by tricky?"

		"Ziggy calculates that you're here to...enjoy yourself."

		It had to be a joke.  But Al wasn't laughing.  "Enjoy
	myself!?!?"

		"That's what Ziggy says.  Look, Sam, your last couple of
	leaps have been pretty stressful.  Especially during that Oswald
	leap.  Maybe you should just relax."

		"Relax."  A pall of dread fell across Sam.  Usually, to
	leap out he had to accomplish something, like saving a life or
	helping someone to achieve a dream.  But relaxing?  "What do I
	have to do?"

		"Well, for starters you get to know those ladies better."

		"Al, this is no time for your customary pickup tactics."

		"Actually, Sam, considering where we are, it probably is."

		Sam, despite himself, started to grin, then chuckle.  "All
	right, Al.  But try to get me some information on this Michael the
	whatsit, okay?  It might help to figure out what else I might need
	to do here."

		"Sure thing, Sam."  A door of light opened behind Al.
	As he walked through it, he added, "And Sam, remember Rule 6."

		"Rule 6?  Wait, Al, what's-"  But Sam was alone.

		Back in the main room, Sam surveyed the weirdness.  Okay,
	when in Rome...

		He walked by a table where a discussion seemed to be going
	on.  Two of the cartoon mice and a couple of elves were talking.

		One of the mice said, "So he offered a penny for my 
	thoughts, but I figured that wouldn't make cents." 

		"Ugh," said the female elf, "I don't think I have the
	dime for this."

		"I'm glad," offered the other mouse, "that I wasn't
	shaving when I heard that pun, or I would've nickeled myself."

		"Agh," added the male elf, "a nickel pun.  Wooden you
	know it?"

		Sam decided to keep on moving.

		He made his way back to the bar, and turned in time
	to see a gryphon throw a glass into the fireplace.  He turned 
	back to face a woman with a tail.

		"Hi, Michael."  She frowned a little.  "Is something
	wrong?"

		Quick, think of something, Sam said to himself.  "Uh,
	just a little tense, I guess."

		"Oh," she replied, "you're a couple of tepees."

		"Pardon?"

		"Two tents."

		"Oh, yeah."

		"Are you sure you're all right?  Here, let's loosen you
	up."  She walked behind him, and started rubbing his back.  "Gee,
	you are tense.  Hmm, maybe we should get you in the hot tub.  Soon
	as they-"

		"-get the Dalek out," they concluded together.

		"Well," said the lady, "I'm going to see how Ignatz is 
	doing.  Bye."

		"Bye."  Sam sighed.  This was too utterly bizarre.
	
		He jumped again as Al's voice suddenly said, "Geez, Sam,
	I oughta get more involved in this place."

		"Yeah, well, what've you got?"

		"Hmm?  Oh, Michael's real name is Michael McAfee, and he's
	a contract engineer and amateur writer.  He submitted several
	stories that didn't get printed, and copyrighted some songs that
	never got recorded."

		"Why not?"

		"He didn't give them enough exposure, apparently.  Just
	kept them mostly to himself."

		"And how about me leaping out?"

		"Oh, that.  Ziggy estimates the most likely way you'll
	leap out is if you make a horrendous pun."

		"A pun?"

		"Yeah, but it has to be a real stinker, Sam."

		"Say, Al, if you could get me a copy of one of his songs,
	and I performed it in front of everyone, do you think this could
	increase his chances of becoming a professional writer?"

		Al popped a few buttons on the link.  "Ziggy doesn't see
	why not?  I'll check the Library of Congress for a copy."

		"Great."  And so Al left.

		Well, that left some time to kill.  Sam walked over to
	a table where a chess game was progressing between a man in a
	Greek sailor cap and a woman who looked like she came from a
	cyberpunk story.

		"So," said the woman, "I can sort of see what a hypersphere
	would look like, but it's hard to describe."

		"Yes," replied the man, "I know what you mean.  The 
	equations are easy enough to write out, but the visualization..."

		God, that took Sam back.  To MIT (or was it Stanford),
	and those late night discussions about topography.  "Sort of
	like a sphere within a sphere, but connected by a bunch of spheres."

		"So," said the man, "we have nothing to fear but the sphere
	iself?"  Someone from the next table threw peanuts at him.

		"Yeah," said the woman, "but are those spheres separate,
	like beads, or concentric, like those Russian dolls?"  The man
	nodded in sympathy.

		Now this was a conversation he could handle.  "Well,"
	he began-

		"Sam!  I've got it."  Al stepped in front of him, holding
	some sheet music.

		"Al," whispered Sam, "I was having a conversation about
	four-dimensionality."

		"Oh.  Sorry, Sam."

		"Hmmph."  Sam turned back to the chess players.  "I've
	got to do something.  Excuse me."

		"Sure," they said, and went back to the game and discussion.

		As Al held up the lyric sheet and music, Sam mentally
	prepared to sing.  He hadn't sang in years, not since he tried
	the chorus his freshman year.  But if his plan was going to
	succeed...

		"Hey, everyone!"  The place quieted down as he spoke.  "If
	you don't mind, I'd like to sing something I wrote, uh, last, uh-"

		Al quickly filled him in.  "April, Sam."

		"April," sputtered Sam, "and it goes something like this."
	He took a deep breath, and sang

			Taking the Time out of Motion
			@1992, Songs by Michael McAfee: April, 1992

		When I wake up, I see that there's nothing on
		I try to get up, but I fall back down again
		No power to rise, no power to move my eyes
		Just dancing dust in a dancing light
		I hear
		I hear

		It's like I go to beach, and I take a look around
		I see a seagull try to fly, but the wind
			push him down to the ground
		I see a boy on the ocean, a bubble in motion
		A seashell with nothing inside
		I put it to my ear, but all I hear are the
		Echoes of my mind
		I hear
		I hear

		Streets shine with the gloss from a morning chill
		They reflect the reflections of the sun
			off a big glass tower
		The door is closed, no one's home
		The clock has stopped and I'm all alone
		And I'm halfway
		I'm halfway to halfway to halfway to halfway to being there
		I am bobbing around on the ocean
		I am taking the time out of motion

	
		As the crowd starts to applaud, Al checked the link.
	"Sam, you did it!  This'll cause Michael to start submitting
	more, and eventually he gets published and has a small cult
	following."

		"Great," said Sam, "but how am I-"  A blue nimbus started 
	to form around him, the indication he was about to leap.  "Of
	course, that's the pun!"

		Al puzzled.  "I don't get it, Sam.  All you did was
	put on a show for the folks."

		"But, Al," grinned Sam, "don't you know that as ye
	show, so shall ye lea-"

		And as he leapt, he felt a small barrage of peanuts.

	Michael, the Chaotic
	disclaimer:  all "Quantum Leap" references are used without 
		permission, so if you try to bootleg this post for
		money (Cheeyeah, right!), don't blame me if you get sued
Newsgroups: alt.callahans