I was taking a vacation to... somewhere exotic? Florida, maybe? I think there may have been some friends going along as well, but I cannot for the life of me remember who they were or what any of them did on the trip. Well, okay, I do remember the identity of one in the group who accompanied me, but that person never even entered my awareness until the ride back later, and then only briefly.

After a smooth and uneventful flight, "we" (but I don't know who else there was) went to stay in an odd sort of lodging. Kind of like a hotel, except everything was made of wood. The walls of the hallway looked like those of a log cabin. Darkly stained wood.

The lighting was also rather dim. Incandescent, the atmosphere was as if the light was shining through long, narrow tunnels up in the ceiling, casting its rays in concentraded spots, leaving everywhere else in shadows.

I went to the communal relaxing sauna / hot tub (not sure which) type place. There were two other people already sitting in the room. I took a seat on the bench. There was one guy sitting my left on the bench, and one guy across the table from him (like a picnic table). It seemed like I knew these people somehow, but I couldn't remember where I knew them from. Had they traveled with me? I wasn't sure.

Then, another occupant entered. A female. I recognized her. Keslin? Keslin, the php-hacking, ultra high res digital camera-using web porn star? Of course! It all made sense now!

The guys sitting at the table had also been to Keslin's web site, and were here to finally meet her. Apparently, so was I. Keslin sat down at the table across from me, and said a friendly hello to everyone.

She seemed to know who the others were, but she wasn't sure about me. She asked what handle I logged in under. I couldn't speak it aloud, so I asked her if she had a pen and paper. She had a napkin, and managed to find a pen in her purse. I printed the letters "B I T S C A P E" on the napkin, and handed it to her.

"Wow, that's you? You don't look anything like your picture." The others agreed. "A distant relative, maybe." Then we all started laughing. What could I say? It had been a picture taken from Jaeger's photo archive from a Star Trek convention, which I had cropped down to my face, and shoved up onto Argo's web server.

...

After the vacation ended, "we" were getting ready to go back on the plane. The weather conditions were awful. Rain, hail, snow. You name it. As the plane began to take off of the runway, the pilot announced that the airport was closing, no more flights would be allowed, and we would have to go back and land as soon as we were in the air. I thought this strange, as the most dangerous part is taking off and landing, and once we were up in the air, wouldn't it just be safer to rise above the clouds and be on our way? Apparently not.

Then, just as we had cleared the ground, and were perhaps a couple tree heights into the air, the pilot announced, "Here we go folks, sorry about the inconvenience." What followed was the strangest attempt at a landing maneuver I have ever [not] witnessed.

The pilot proceeded to pull the nose up sharply, which would take the plane into a loop (like a roller coaster) during which the plane would momentarily be completely upside down, and then come down to land... how? I didn't trust this pilot. But up and over we went, in a 747, straight upside down, the G's holding all the passengers in their seats, until the plane came down out of the loop, to nose dive straight into the ground on descent.

I received word that another member of the group [real life identity known, but I'm not revealing it here], had made it back safe and sound. He had taken an earlier flight before the bad Florida weather struck, and was back home unpacking.

It seems like I might have caught another flight, and made it half way, but my mind wandered back to Florida, which caused the game to reset, and so I was looking again for a way home.

...

Act III

I was driving home. In Tobias. Heading up a big huge freeway which was sloping up into some mountains. Somewhat like I-70. I was going pretty fast. I was over the speed limit, but no more egregiously than any of the other drivers on the road -- which is to say, in complete disregard of the law. I was in the right-most lane next to the wide shoulder.

I caught up to a vehicle that was going somewhat slower. I was going to pass it, until I saw the insignia on the bumper. This was one of the dope smoking, secret society, anti-establishment underground which I had joined into when I became a member of the Keslin web site. I remembered the signal. Found the hidden button on Tobias's console, and pushed it to broadcast the coded message: "We are the unified dope smoking rejects of the world." I hoped this would work, as I had never tried using it before.

A few minutes passed, and I continued driving. A cop car appeared behind me. I tried to make sure I wasn't exceeding the speed limit, but it was too late for that. Its lights began to flash, and the siren went off. I was being pulled over. My stomach sank.

I slowed to a crawl, and just past the overpass, moved over into the shoulder and stopped. It was twilight. The sun was no longer visible, but the sky still had a tint of blue. One of the cops got out of the car, and walked up to my window. It was a lady cop. She said something to the effect of, "Wow, you sure were blazing a fast trail there, weren't you?"

Not wanting to admit any guilt until evidence had been presented, I said something non-committal. Actually, I was pretty sure I had not been speeding since the time the cop car appeared, but maybe they had been tracking me earlier. I wasn't going to show my hand just yet though.

She asked me to step out of the car. I did so. Her partner, a man, had also emerged from their vehicle and was walking toward us. He was carrying with him some paperwork. Then, she proceeded to explain to me what was going on.

"A few minutes ago, we received a broadcast message from your vehicle which led us to believe that you have been patronizing the pornography industry. Under California law, all subscribers to pornography in any form are required to fill out this survey and return it to the state. This law was passed by the California legislature in the hopes that it would curb porn's insidious effect of de-humanizing and objectifying women in this country.

"Although we are not in the state of California, many other states are still bound by this law, through the doctrine of Kalifornication, of which Colorado is an enrollees." She proceeded to show me a list of states enrolled in this doctrine. "So if you would please just fill out this survey, we will wish you well on your way."

I was just getting ready to look at the contents of the survey, when something else distracted all of us. Next to the highway, in the dirt, with cars buzzing by at 75+ mph, a little girl rode up the hill on a tricycle. 4 years old, maybe 5. She had been riding like this for... who could know how long? It was dark now. She was exhausted. She stopped and collapsed on the ground by the roadside.

I rushed over to her. The cops quickly followed. We tried to pick her up. She became conscious again. She was looking for her way home. Before we could help her or inquire further, a minivan pulled up. It didn't pull over into the shoulder, or even stop completely. It just dropped to an extremely slow pace on the highway, and the sliding side door opened. There were a bunch of kids inside. Her parents were in the front seats.

Upon seeing their daughter, the father began to angrily shout at her, "Get in the car. Where have you been all day? You've caused us all great inconvenience. Come on, hurry up!" An pair of arms, probably the mother, reached out of the vehicle, grabbed the child, pulled her in, and the door closed. The minivan quickly speeded up, recklessly dodged around Tobias's door which was still open, and disappeared into the darkness.

"Aren't you going to go after them?" I asked the police.

"Oh, yes." replied the male officer. "Dangerous neglect of children, borderline child abuse, and reckless driving to boot! Yes, they definitely need to be apprehended. But first, we need you to finish filling out this survey."

Right. The survey, as mandated by California law, and all states in its wake, in an effort to protect and prevent the dehumanization of women. I didn't even bother to ask what the rationality of this silly survey was supposed to be, since both of the officers seemed almost sympathetic to my dismay at the ineffectual B.S.-filled buzzword games played by the legislature.

Some of the answers had already been filled in by a line printer. Good thing too, because I had no idea what many of them were talking about. One of them asked what the appeal was in some (pornagraphic, or horror? I'm actually not sure) movie I had never even heard of. I asked the woman what this question was about. She said, "Oh, don't worry about it. Just write something there."

And so I did.

Then, we got to the area on pornographic web sites. One question asked why you visit? With a very short 3-cm wide space in which to answer. I looked quizzicaly at the cop. "Duh!"

She shrugged in sympathy. I thought about writing something really obvious or sarcastic. "To wank off." (A few phrases from the movie There's Something About Mary might work too.)

But, on impulse, I wrote the words, "Wanted company."

Filled out the rest of the trivial meaningless nonsense in the survey, and carried it back to the cap's car, which had somehow transformed itself into a van with a VHS library of old horror films. You know, the kind they used to make in the 80s where the chick would always get naked before being stabbed and mutilated in some gruesome fashion. Some of the movies, I recognized, others, I didn't. Some were high profile Hollywood with big name stars, some where hobby garage projects.

The cops explained that this was their repository for "evidence". Quite a stash.

Well, the officers politely explained that it was fun talking, but it was time for them to run. They needed to catch up with those bad parents driving the minivan. Before departing, they asked: "What was the address of that website again?"

I happily told them, keslin.com. It had my recommendation, if they ever felt like dropping in. keslin.com. At this point, I obviously felt that I could trust these law enforcement officers.

They thanked me, we waved goodbye, and they speeded off, lights flashing, to try to catch the minivan-driving, suburban middle class child neglecters. I wonder if they'll ever catch them.

I sat back in Tobias, turned on the engine, and started driving up the mountain road again. Onward with the journey home into the night.