ring of soldiers. "This house
is under quarantine, miss. Has
been since friday. Now, now --
it's not my doing, it's policy.
Please, don't get angry."
Candy stared sadly at the
small, white cottage, and said,
"I know, I don't blame you. But
you must understand, this is
where I grew up; to watch it die
like this . . . it's like
witnessing my own childhood's
end."
A tall, angry man approached
the two of them, waving a sheaf
of papers about in broad, wild
arcs. "We've been unable to
process your forms, ma'am -- the
local police station is stuck in
the Dark Ages. They don't even
own a scanner."
Darkly, Candy replied, "It's
okay. Nothing else has gone
right today . . . I might as
well go for the gold. Hell, I
might as well go for the
diamond."
"Age: twenty-three, marital
status: divorced, parents:
deceased," read the angry man,
and his visage softened a bit.
"You know if I could let you
through, I would. But what do I
count? Zero, that's what."
Candy attempted a small
smile, and turned back toward
117
Gods, the writing sure doesn't recommend this novel. In your years as an
editor at Amazing Stories you've read countless submissions, and this is
easily among the worst. You aren't reading it for the writing, though --
you're reading it because of the note scribbled on the cover:
pg 117
uname: guillotine
1 1 1 2+ 6+ 8+ 3 1++ 6
> > > > < > < < >
This has to be one of those silly little puzzles your boss always leaves
you -- he drops you one or two a month. You haven't failed to solve one
yet, and you'll be damned if this'll be the first.
So... you telnetted to his PC at work, entered the username 'guillotine',
and stared morosely at the 'password:' prompt for a while before you even
checked out page 117. Now what?