A number of unsettled people in very formal business attire sat around a
fine elliptic conference table.  The mid-morning sun could be scene
rising through the windows outside their great skyscraper.  The people
were nervous, talking in whispers, but all noise stopped and all eyes
looked up as a tall, dominant man with grey hair marched into the room and
stood at the head of the table.  "Four months.  Four months we worked to
create the series of superhillarious logins that your friend came to
us for.  Four months, and we didn't finish a single one!  Not ONE actual
login did his friend see in that four months of his spring semester!  Just
promises, and _hints_," he said the word with disgust, "not ONE -- DAMN --
_LOGIN_!  He was very displeased and needless to say we didn't get a drop
of the money he promised us upon delivery.  I have spent many hours
tediously, laboriously pondering, contemplating and calculating the
incomprehesible idiocy of the incompetency that I have witnessed this past
year, but to no avail.  STILL, though I don't see how or why, your friend 
has decided to give us a second chance."  There was a slight stir in 
the room.
	"Excuse, me, sir."  One man with an open briefcase and some
scattered papers in front of him stood up.
	"Yes, Jackson?"  
	"Seven of us have been working around the clock the past three
weeks and have engineered a series of 14 logins, what we believe to be the
finest comedy ever constructed by man.  It's all here on this one, only
copy of our work."  He held up a small diskette.
	"Oh, that's not foreshadowing or anything," mubled the man,
sarcastically, sitting next to the one holding up the diskette.
	"Excuse me?"
	"If you say, 'this is the one and only copy we have,' you're just
inviting the damn thing to be destroyed in the next half a minute for
comic value."
	"What?"  Most in the room were genuinely confused.
	"Oh God, must I demonstrate?  Look, like this!"  And he grabbed
the disk out of the first man's hand and tossed it out an open window.
	"You IDIOT!"
	"See?  Wasn't that funny?"
	"NO!!"
	"Oh, well, good thing you were joking about that being your only
copy, right?"
	"Well, as a matter of fact, I DID make ONE other copy right
here...."
	"You're foreshadowing again."
	"Shut up!"  But just then, in an instant, all the glass shattered
and fell to the floor as stream of bullets shot through the windows and
caused the man holding the disk to jerk violently as blood splurted from
his chest, the second disk he was holding up flying into a million pieces.
Chaotic screams filled the room as the terrified onlookers lept to the
floor.
	"See?  I told you."  The stealth helicopter outside flew silently
away, into the distance.  The people started to get up.  
	"Someone call a medic!"
	As people scrambled everywhere like frightened mice, the tall grey-
haired leader of the group stood in a lone pool of silence.  Darkness fell
over his face as the weight of the situation hit him, and he whispered out
loud to no one in particular, in that deep, ominous, dramatic voice that
only a smart powerful main character can muster, "So, things are not as
simple as they first appear to be.  Someone doesn't want these logins
written.  Someone very powerful.  We must find out who this person, or
these _people_, are, and why they want to sabotage this project so badly.
If they -- Hey, wait!  I know who it is!"  And then he died suddenly of a
freak heart attack.












                         ----------------------------

                                THE NEW LOGINS

                            WILL THEY *EVER* COME?
 
                         ----------------------------