 "What is he talking about?" asked the editor. "What kind of danger is he in now?" "Don’t you see? That’s how the Darkside must be doing it. They’re cutting the links, the glue that holds hypertext together, so the scientists that we’ve lost since Radolsky can’t find their way out. They have confused the scientists’ schema so the scientists are effectively lost in cyberspace." "That’s right, Mr Gates," said Figment, appearing in a chef’s hat in a cookery forum. "The only reason that I have evaded them thus far is that my imagination is highly developed. It would take a lot to foil my sche-ma of thingssssss…" He ducked as a butcher’s cleaver flew in his direction, clipping the top of his white hat. "Yikes! I’m outa here!" He popped out of the site. "His textual dexterity is remarkable," Gates observed. "Thank you," said Figment, popping back, in the middle of a basketball court in a Magic Johnson website. A basketball flew in his direction. He caught it nonchalantly, hooked it over his shoulder and through the net for a three pointer. Stepping onto the sidelines, he said, "I’m leading them a merry dance and I think I found out where the scientists are being heeeeeeld…" Two men in dark suits strode across the court in Figment’s direction and the little god of imagination promptly popped out of the site. "If he’s found out where they are keeping the scientists are, maybe he can…"Gates began. "Bill!" the editor said sharply. "We can’t send the little chap on a rescue mission. He likes to pretend he’s brave and strong, but it’s all in his imagination really. Why, only recently, he was hospitalized for cancer of the imagination. He’s overcome that, but I don’t want to unduly stress him." "Nonsense, Mr Editor. I appreciate your concern, but I’m as fit as a fiddle!" Figment declared from beside the sphinx in an archeology forum. "I’ve discovered that they lured the scientists into a physics site and then cut all the links. The scientists were so engrossed in browsing through it, that it was days before they noticed they were trapped, and by then it was too late. But I’ve found a way to get them out and the way back home!" Copyright © 1996 Ilanit Tof, All Rights Reserved. Illustrations by Rhonda Willson, © 1996. |