} Ice Hammer, King of Rap, Koolest of the Kool, having just fought his
} way through a screaming mob of hysterical teenagers sinks down on the
} plush upholstery of his plum-coloured Cadillac with a sigh of relief.
} On the seat beside him sit two young, well-enodwed women, both with
} delicious milk chocolate-coloured complexion and wearing incredibly
} tight-fitting dresses, just low-cut enough to reveal the tops of
} designer brassieres, and just short enough to show an occasional
} glimpse of matching panties.
} While Ice H. absent-mindedly lights a cigarette with a hundred-dollar
} bill, one of the women starts massaging the back of his neck, while
} the other asks, in a low, husky voice, if they'll be in time for the
} Ice H., lost in deep thoughts, doesn't answer, but says:
} "Y'know, baby, I had this weird dream last night - I dreamed I was the
} pope. Maybe I'm not really me, but just some nerd dreaming he's
} me...". Both women giggle.
} The harsh, piercing sound of an electronic alarm clock cuts through
} the head of Mazda Imperfect, aka Judge Drutt of the Supreme
} Intergalactic Court, aka dozens of even stupider handles, master
} hacker - or computer nerd as most women call him. With a groan, Mazda
} sits up in bed, realizing he's not really the King of Rap, but a CS
} frehsman at an obscure university. Vehemently, he hits the alarm clock
} so it crashes into the wall and stops ringing, then lies down again
} and tries to go back to sleep and re-start the dream.
} Two minutes later, his next-door neighbour starts playin AC/DC at max
} volume. Two minutes later still, his other next-door neighbour starts
} playing Shamen at an even higher volume. When the guy downstairs
} starts playing old Dolly Parton records, it's the last straw, and
} Mazda gets up, wraps himself in a robe and heads for the shower.
} Later that day, he in desperation writes to the Oracle to get the
} answer to the question that's been nagging him all day: What if he's
} not a CS student dreaming he's a superstar, but a superstar deraming
} he's a CS student? Just as he's sent the message...
} ...the melodious chime of golden bells wakens the Usenet Oracle. He
} slowly opens his eyes, to see the loving countenace of Lisa, who's
} dressed in what might - with some stretching of the imagination - be
} called a nightdress.
} "Good morning, Orrie. Had any sweet dreams?"
} "Yes, in fact, I did dream something pretty weird - that I was a CS
} geek who dreamed he was a rap star, and then sent a question to me
} about whether he was really some superstar dreaming he was a CS geek
} dreaming he was a rap star..."
} "How strange. And even stranger, just such a question arrived on the
} fax just two minutes ago"
} The Oracle has only started to think about the consequences of this
} ...the nasty sound of a sub-machine gun being fired at close range
} resounds through a rickety shack in the suburbs of Mogadishu,
} [ You owe the Oracle a good ending to this story; or perhaps some good
} way of indicating that this is supposed to be an infinite progression
} of dreams within dreams ]