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 } The dark figure stood unmoving for a moment, and then began to quiver 
} and to emit a low, choaking sound.  The three travellers were confused, 
} until they realized that the new arrival was laughing! 
} 
} "Oh, oh, oh my," it panted, in a disturbingly deep and echoing voice. 
} "Brought here?  Me?  Oh, no, my friends, you mistake me.  *I* brought 
} *you*, and not by any feeble sorcery." Chuckling, the being fell back 
} into an overstuffed chair, throwing a dense cloud of dust into the room. 
} A stale smell, as of unwashed clothes and old, greasy food wrappers, 
} pervaded the poorly-lit room. 
} 
} "Then, thou wouldst appear to be our host," spoke the tall Viking, "but 
} not much of a host, methinks." 
} 
} The figure in the chair went silent, and very, very still.  "Do not try 
} my patience, Bjarnason.  Sit." The figure reached out toward a strange 
} wall panel, and his fingers flashed across its surface. 
} 
} > mv /usr/local/furniture/chairs . 
} > sed "s/standing/sitting" /tmp/travellers /tmp/travellers.~1~ 
} 
} Instantly, the three found themselves seated in badly upholstered chairs 
} that had not previously been present.  "Why have you brought us here?" 
} shouted the thin Scotsman, sweat appearing on his brow. 
} 
} "I needed... data.  You will do." 
} 
} The three looked at each other with apprehension.  Suddenly, the fat 
} Frenchman sprang to his feet, drawing both swords and lunging toward the 
} still unidentified figure looming across the room. 
} 
} > cat \!1 > /dev/null 
} 
} The Frenchman vanished, his swords clanging against the flagstones where 
} he had stood. 
} 
} "I advise you both to avoid such foolish antics," spat the dark figure. 
} 
} Horror settled deep into Bjarnason's soul, like ice between his toes. 
} He knew.  He should have known earlier, but he couldn't have saved 
} Pierre.  "You're a UNIX wizard, aren't you?" 
} 
} "Exactly, my friend.  I assume that I will now have you cooperation?" 
} 
} Bjarnason stared at the shadowed face, realizing that his long travels 
} had come to an end. 
} 
} 
} You owe the Oracle a signed copy of "Sysops of Gor." 
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