certain restrictions apply. What do you say, comrade? Will you join?”
“I will,” Winston said. “I WILL.”
O’Brien’s beeper sounded. The two men scurried to their workstations.
That night, as Winston entered No. 4, his phone was ringing. Before he could answer it, three intruders leaped from the shadows and pressed the Yellow Pages to Winston’s mouth. His mind went blank.
Later, all he would remember were the words “Have a nice day.”
He awoke lashed to a chair. At a console sat O’Brien.
“It was the Talk Police, Smith!” the programmer whimpered. “They reached out and touched me. They showed me … Reason Number 101.”
“Dear God!” Winston said. He had heard of the more than eight hundred reasons not to leave AT&T. The mere thought of Reason 101 turned his bowels to water.
“Answer one question, and we’ll release you!” O’Brien said. “With the other companies, how much do you save?”
“That’s easy, O’Brien. I save up to twenty percent. It’s that sim—AHHH.”
A painful busy signal shot through Winston’s body.
“Let me repeat my question, sir! How much do you
save?”
“O’Brien, you know the answer! Up to twenty perce—AHHH!”
“YOU SAVE PENNIES, SMITH! DO YOU HEAR? PENNIES! FOR PENNIES, YOU GIVE UP
SERVICE,
SMITH. IT’S JUST ANOTHER PART OF ‘THE I PLAN.’ YOU GIVE UP SERVICE—FOR PENNIES!”
“But O’Brien, you said—AHHHH—”
Months later, his resistance broken, Winstonshouted the answer O’Brien sought and came to recite the slogans of TrueVoice:
Clarity Is Peace.
Interruptions Are Slavery.
Caller ID Is Security.
After his release, Winston never again listened to Murphy on his telescreen. He accepted without question all the coming technologies. He never went anywhere without his laptop. He had won the struggle over himself. He loved Ma Bell and Big Blue.
Captain’s Log
Star date 5973.4: A strange, ancient morality has invaded the
Enterprise,
turning my crew against me. I stand accused of sexual harassment, lewd behavior, and conduct unbecoming of an officer. No longer able to trust anyone, I have chosen to defend myself at the preliminary inquest that could decide my fate.…
… And so, Mr. Scott, would you please tell the court exactly what Captain Kirk ordered you to do that night?
Aye, laddie. The captain, he had me lock the transporter onto the green lady’s coordinates, and then—well—he told me to beam the clothes off of her.
And, did you?
Nay, laddie. I made up a story. I told him the dilithium crystals were cracked, and the ship, she just couldn’t take it.
No further questions. Your honor, I move for theimmediate court-martial of James T. Kirk on the grounds that his repeated acts of sexual misconduct violate time-honored Star Fleet codes.
Sir, we’ve seen depositions from 134 female crew members and sixty-four alien species, all who swear they were propositioned by the captain. We learned how Kirk, using Romulan cloaking technology, made covert visits to the ladies’ changing room. We know that the captain asked Dr. McCoy to treat his sexually transmitted space spores, and we heard from the ship’s science officer, who characterized Kirk’s behavior as—I’m quoting now—“highly illogical.”
Your honor, the media have had a field day over the forced resignation of Lieutenant Uhura, due to charges that she and the captain pushed their alternative lifestyles on alternative life-forms. I submit that Uhura is the victim. The perpetrator is James T. Kirk, a modern-day Bill Clinton who has roamed this galaxy with his own prime directive: to seduce every female being that happens to engage his warped drive. I demand a verdict of guilty!
Thank you, Counselor Starr. Indeed, the evidence does seem overwhelming. Captain, have you anything to say?
I do, your honor.…
I am James T. Kirk, captain of the USS
Enterprise!
And I will not relinquish control of this ship! Scotty, Bones, Spock! Snap out of it!
“I will,” Winston said. “I WILL.”
O’Brien’s beeper sounded. The two men scurried to their workstations.
That night, as Winston entered No. 4, his phone was ringing. Before he could answer it, three intruders leaped from the shadows and pressed the Yellow Pages to Winston’s mouth. His mind went blank.
Later, all he would remember were the words “Have a nice day.”
He awoke lashed to a chair. At a console sat O’Brien.
“It was the Talk Police, Smith!” the programmer whimpered. “They reached out and touched me. They showed me … Reason Number 101.”
“Dear God!” Winston said. He had heard of the more than eight hundred reasons not to leave AT&T. The mere thought of Reason 101 turned his bowels to water.
“Answer one question, and we’ll release you!” O’Brien said. “With the other companies, how much do you save?”
“That’s easy, O’Brien. I save up to twenty percent. It’s that sim—AHHH.”
A painful busy signal shot through Winston’s body.
“Let me repeat my question, sir! How much do you
save?”
“O’Brien, you know the answer! Up to twenty perce—AHHH!”
“YOU SAVE PENNIES, SMITH! DO YOU HEAR? PENNIES! FOR PENNIES, YOU GIVE UP
SERVICE,
SMITH. IT’S JUST ANOTHER PART OF ‘THE I PLAN.’ YOU GIVE UP SERVICE—FOR PENNIES!”
“But O’Brien, you said—AHHHH—”
Months later, his resistance broken, Winstonshouted the answer O’Brien sought and came to recite the slogans of TrueVoice:
Clarity Is Peace.
Interruptions Are Slavery.
Caller ID Is Security.
After his release, Winston never again listened to Murphy on his telescreen. He accepted without question all the coming technologies. He never went anywhere without his laptop. He had won the struggle over himself. He loved Ma Bell and Big Blue.
Captain’s Log
Star date 5973.4: A strange, ancient morality has invaded the
Enterprise,
turning my crew against me. I stand accused of sexual harassment, lewd behavior, and conduct unbecoming of an officer. No longer able to trust anyone, I have chosen to defend myself at the preliminary inquest that could decide my fate.…
… And so, Mr. Scott, would you please tell the court exactly what Captain Kirk ordered you to do that night?
Aye, laddie. The captain, he had me lock the transporter onto the green lady’s coordinates, and then—well—he told me to beam the clothes off of her.
And, did you?
Nay, laddie. I made up a story. I told him the dilithium crystals were cracked, and the ship, she just couldn’t take it.
No further questions. Your honor, I move for theimmediate court-martial of James T. Kirk on the grounds that his repeated acts of sexual misconduct violate time-honored Star Fleet codes.
Sir, we’ve seen depositions from 134 female crew members and sixty-four alien species, all who swear they were propositioned by the captain. We learned how Kirk, using Romulan cloaking technology, made covert visits to the ladies’ changing room. We know that the captain asked Dr. McCoy to treat his sexually transmitted space spores, and we heard from the ship’s science officer, who characterized Kirk’s behavior as—I’m quoting now—“highly illogical.”
Your honor, the media have had a field day over the forced resignation of Lieutenant Uhura, due to charges that she and the captain pushed their alternative lifestyles on alternative life-forms. I submit that Uhura is the victim. The perpetrator is James T. Kirk, a modern-day Bill Clinton who has roamed this galaxy with his own prime directive: to seduce every female being that happens to engage his warped drive. I demand a verdict of guilty!
Thank you, Counselor Starr. Indeed, the evidence does seem overwhelming. Captain, have you anything to say?
I do, your honor.…
I am James T. Kirk, captain of the USS
Enterprise!
And I will not relinquish control of this ship! Scotty, Bones, Spock! Snap out of it!
Similar Books
