ring  of  soldiers.  "This house
    is  under quarantine, miss.  Has
    been  since friday.  Now, now --
    it's  not my doing, it's policy.
    Please, don't get angry."
        Candy  stared  sadly  at the
    small,  white cottage, and said,
    "I know, I don't blame you.  But
    you  must  understand,  this  is
    where I grew up; to watch it die
    like    this . . .   it's   like
    witnessing  my  own  childhood's
    end."
        A tall, angry man approached
    the  two of them, waving a sheaf
    of  papers  about in broad, wild
    arcs.   "We've  been  unable  to
    process your forms, ma'am -- the
    local police station is stuck in
    the  Dark Ages.  They don't even
    own a scanner."
        Darkly, Candy replied, "It's
    okay.   Nothing  else  has  gone
    right  today . . .  I  might  as
    well  go  for the gold.  Hell, I
    might   as   well   go  for  the
    diamond."
        "Age:  twenty-three, marital
    status:    divorced,    parents:
    deceased,"  read  the angry man,
    and  his  visage softened a bit.
    "You  know  if  I  could let you
    through, I would.  But what do I
    count?  Zero, that's what."
        Candy   attempted   a  small
    smile,  and  turned  back toward

                  117

    pg 117
    uname: guillotine
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    > > > >  <  >  < <   >

So... you telnetted to his PC at work, entered the username 'guillotine', and stared morosely at the 'password:' prompt for a while before you even checked out page 117. Now what?