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} FROM THE FILES OF INTERNET IGGY, MASTER DETECTIVE
} ---- --- ----- -- -------- ---- ------ ---------
}
} The sun was beating down on the back of my neck like a blackjack as I
} opened my office door. It was only then that I realized that some
} cheap hood had made off with my ceiling. I made a mental note to track
} him down, then realized I was out of mental notepaper. It was not
} going to be a good day.
}
} The figure I saw lurking behind the diffenbachia added more evidence
} to support that conclusion. He was about five-four with a pasty-white,
} pimply complexion. A piece of gold wire supported a pair of glass
} billiard balls in front of his eyes. A white plastic flap with the
} letters "IEEE" hung from his shirt pocket. Behind it rode an amazing
} collection of pens, pencils, screwdrivers, and a Radio Shack logic
} probe. His clip-on tie languished at the bottom of his open collar.
} His lips were moving.
}
} "Mr. Iggy, I may have a case for you."
}
} "Teriffic, as long as it's Jack Daniels. In quart bottles."
}
} "I work with computers for a living..."
}
} "How did I ever guess?"
}
} "...and I'm missing something very important."
}
} "I'm not the guy you should talk to then. Look in the yellow pages,
} under 'Urologists'. Or is that 'Penologists'?"
}
} "You don't seem to understand, Mr. Iggy. I am in contact with a
} certain, er, Oracle. Or should I say, I used to be in contact with
} him. I would ask him to ask me questions. Then after I asked him to
} ask me the question, he would answer with a question in answer to the
} question I had asked asking for the question. This question in the
} answer I would then have to answer, and then answer the Oracle with
} the answer to the question he had asked me in answer to the question I
} had asked him asking for the question..."
}
} "Wait a minute, I'm asking the questions here."
}
} "No, it's the Oracle. Or at least it should be, but it isn't. You see,
} the question I have is that when I ask for a question whose answer is
} a question I answer..."
}
} "Try that again, geek, and you'll have a gum-wad's-eye view of the
} linoleum."
}
} "In any case, the Oracle does not reply. Mr. Iggy, I need you to find
} out why. I need the answer to the question of the missing question...
} *O*O*F*!"
}
} I'll give the little guy one thing. He knew the one way to take a
} Florsheim to the solar plexus. With great pain.
}
} "OK, Brainiac", I said, "let's get something straight. I'm not going
} to repeat myself, and I'm not going to say it again. _I'M_ asking the
} questions around here! And if you don't like it, go see Dashiell
} Hammett!!!"
}
} "Urgh... you're... (gasp) ...brilliant!"
}
} I drew my '38 and swivelled around to see who had walked in. Then I
} realized that he was still talking to me.
}
} "Me? -er- so you figured it out, finally?"
}
} "Yes, Mr. Iggy! (*cough*) You're asking the... questions around here!
} So _you_ are in p-p-posession of the missing questions!"
}
} I went to my filing cabinet, carefully stepping on the geek's hand on
} the way. From the center drawer I removed the file every detective
} worth his flat feet should have. It was labelled
}
} #####
} # #
} #
} ###
} #
}
} #
}
} "You got that from the Oracle!" the geek pronounced. "You stole it!"
}
} "Yeah, I pinched the questions file. So what? You know how boring it
} is around here? Nothing to keep me occupied but slinky dames, booze,
} fabulous wealth, and mystery. I've gotta have a little fun you know.
} Here, take it. But be damn sure to leave it up for anonymous FTP."
}
} "But how can I ever repay you?"
}
} "Just keep out of my site. But there is one thing."
}
} "Anything! Name it!"
}
} "You owe the Oracle a brown fedora and a pack of unfiltered Luckies."
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![[IO]](https://kinzler.com/picons/db/domains/org/internetoracle/unknown/face.gif){kind=small}
