From: mlindanne@hotmail.com (China Blue O'Brien 2) Newsgroups: rec.arts.books.tolkien Subject: The Avignon Papers: Chapter 3: The Black Gateway Closes. Date: Sun, 18 Feb 2001 05:54:20 -0800 Organization: Will pointlessly annoy people for food. Message-ID: X-Hello-Kitty: meow meow. X-Should: Prancing green elves on yellow daisy fields. X-Ray-Specs: Off. X-NSA-Bait: wiretap pgp cryptoterrorist rsa des X-Senator-Joe-Bait: MTV dare violence irresponsibility stunt censorship X-Complaints-To: newsabuse@supernews.com Lines: 237 Path: chonsp.franklin.ch!pfaff.ethz.ch!news-zh.switch.ch!news-ge.switch.ch!enews.sgi.com!newshub2.rdc1.sfba.home.com!news.home.com!sn-xit-01!sn-post-01!supernews.com!corp.supernews.com!b93.ppp.tsoft.com!user Xref: chonsp.franklin.ch rec.arts.books.tolkien:32645 THE BLACK GATEWAY IS CLOSED Before the next day dawned their journey to Microdor was over. The sewage treatment plants and strip malls were behind them. Before them, beige against a light gray sky, the great mountains reared their threatening heads. Upon the west of Microdor marched the gloomy range of Ephel Deumille, the Mountains of Shadow, and upon the north the broken users and barren promises of Ered Lemoi, grey as despair. But as these ranges approached one another, being indeed but parts of great wall about the mournful plains of Seattle and of Redmond, and bitter inland lake of Washington amidmost, they swung out long service packs northward; and between these releases there was a deep pit of despair. This was Cirith Gagates, the Haunted Pass, the entrance to the systems of the Enemy. Upon the hills stood the offices of the lawyers, two skyscrapers strong and tall. In the days long past they were built by the Men of Gondor(®) while engaged in the copyright wars with the Wainrider Brothers. But the lawsuits of Gondor(®) failed, and lawyers golfed, and for long years the offices stood empty. Then Sauron returned. Now the legal-offices, which had fallen into disrepair, were recarpeted and filled with ceaseless memoing. Across the mouth of the pass, from cliff to cliff, the Dark Lord had built a firewall in Visual Basic. In it there was a single port for TCP, and upon its battlement netadmins paced unceasingly. Behind the firewall on either side the rocks were bored into a hundred cubicles and maggot-holes; there a host of flaks lurked, ready at a signal to issue forth their FUDs and press releases. None could pass the Teeth of Microdor and not feel their subpeona, unless they were summoned by Sauron, or knew the secret root passwords (BILLISGOD) that would open the black gateway of his land. The two hobbits gazed at the offices and the firewall in despair. Even from the distance they could see in the dim light the movement of graveyard shift upon the wall, and overtimers before the gateway. They lay now sampling a packet stream beneath the outstretched shadow of the northmost butress of Ephel Deumille. Day came, and the fallow sun blinked over the lifeless dividers of Ered Lemoi. Then suddenly the cry of brazen-throated strumpets were heard: another wasted night waiting for programmers on all-nighters trying to fix that one last bug. Another dreadful day of fear and toil had come to Microdor; the programmers were summoned to their apartments and cafeterias, and the support people were marching to their posts, for another long day of ignoring ringing palantirs. 'Well, here we are!' said Sam. 'Here's the Gateway, and it looks to me as if that's about as far as we are ever going to get.' Sam continued to drone on in his self-deprecating format until Frodo was considering sticking ell-long steel spikes through his eardrums. 'I suppose it's no good asking "what do we hack now?" We can't go no further--unless we want to ask the Orcs for free upgrade.' 'No, no!' said Saddam. 'No use! We can't ping further! Spiegel said so! He said: we'll go to the Gateway, and then we'll see! And we do see! O yess, my process, we do see! Spiegel knew hobbits could not telnet this way! O yes, Spiegel knew!' 'Then what the plague did you bring us here for?' whined Sam, not realising that he was falling for the old trick of the upper class that kept the lower classes quarreling instead of uniting and freeing themselves. He and Saddam drifted into a long discussion as Saddam attempted to enlighten Sam. 'Oh, shut up,' said Frodo. His face was pallid and quavering, but dissolute. He was filthy, haggard, and bloated with worms scrounged from the settling ponds, and he cowered still, and his eyes were muddy. He looked the same as usual. 'Yes, I said come here, because I propose to access the web content of Microdor, and I know no other way. Therefore I shall send ICMP packets this way. I do not ask anyone to browse with me.' 'No, no, master!' wailed Saddam, pawing at his wallet pocket, and seeming in great distress in hopes of winning an Oscar in the movie even if the authour of this particular chapter would never get a Pulitzer. 'No use that way! No use! Reverse address tracing! Insecure comodised protocols! Cookies follow your every clickstream! Don't take Propietary Information to Him! He'll eat us all, if He decides to dominate this marketplace! Keep it, nice master, and be kind to Spiegel! Don't let Him clone it! Or go away, go to upstate New York, and give venture funding to little Spiegel! Spiegel will develop it open source; he will do lots of good, especially to nice hobbits! Hobbits retire! Don't browse the Gateway!' 'My inheritance lies in the land of Microdor, and therefore I shall go,' said Frodo. 'If there is only one gateway, then I must connect through it. What comes after must come.' Sam said nothing. The look on Frodo's face was enough for him: he knew that that wimp would never have the gumption to actually do anything. And after all he never had any real hope of getting rid of parasitic upper class scum so easily. Now they had come to the bitter end. Sam realised that he would have to sacrafice himself and bodily carry Frodo up to the attorneys's offices. His master would not go to Microdor alone. He slowly and secretly drew his stiletto--and at any rate he would get rid of Saddam. Saddam, however, did not intend to be written out of the story yet. 'Not this way, master!' he pleaded. 'There is another way! O yes indeed there is! Another way, darker, more difficult, more open source! But Spiegel knows it! Let Spiegel show you!' 'Another way!' said Frodo desperately. 'Not some stupid Third Way, I hope.' ' Yess! Yess indeedy-doo. There was _another_ way. Spiegel downloaded it! Let's go and see if the Redhat ftp site is still there!' 'You have not spoken of this before.' 'No! Master did not offer nondisclosure agreement! Poor Spiegel doesn't know Master's business plan and must guesses! But other way, yess is there! Let Spiegel show and like talk Yoda not anymore he!' Sam frowned. The people's liberation would have to be put off by at least yet another chapter. Meanwhile Frodo in a transparent, and pathetic, attempt to appear resolute continued to stare at the legal office. Then there was a brief vision of a thin wraith of woman in the tower. Frodo shuddered involuntarily and turned away. 'Okay, spill the beans.' In rather pointless aside, before listening to Saddam's expository dialogue, Frodo looked out from their hiding place toward the dark cliff of Cirith Gagates. The cubicle in which they had taken refuge was in an abandoned dot-com office, at some height above a long cable filled trench that lay between it and the outer bitstreams of the mountains. By morning-light it was clear that all the data paths coverged on the Gateway of Microdor. Shorter paths and more responsive systems had been abandoned in favour of Sauron retaining absolute control of every byte that passed through his realm. As he gazed Frodo became aware that there was great stir on the plain. Whole armies of fibre optical installers were busy laying cables and wiring up the wastelands. Then he knew that the hope that he had for one wild moment stirred in his heart was vain. The networking was not strung in challenge to the Dark Lord, but as strategic alliances to aid him. Finally suddenly aware of the peril of their position, Frodo hid under an old desk and pleaded for Saddam to explain himself. 'Yess, yess, master!' said Saddam. 'Dreadful danger! Spiegel's disk drive shudders to think of it, but he doesn't run away! He must help nice master!' 'I do not mean the danger that we all share,' said Frodo. 'I mean a danger to yourself alone. Every single sentence you have uttered in this chapter has ended in an exclamation point. Do you really think that the Academy will accept emphatic declamation as a substitute for real emotional development? Not only are you throwing away a chance for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar in the movie, but now you aren't even in the running for a People's Choice Award.' Gollum growled and whined and made some vague comments about a canned film festival. He grovelled on the ground could speak no clear words without exclamation. Frodo waited impatiently for a while, then he spoke again just as urgently. 'Come now, Saddam or Spiegel or McGill or Nancy if you wish, tell me of this other way. I am in haste to change my spoiled knickers.' Tired of providing any further dialogue that would just be ridiculed by the critics, Saddam demanded that the authour summarise the remaining exposition. Saddam spoke of fjords, of mooses swiming the enchanted ice streams, of a sun that never set, and of a miraculous land of Finns. He spoke of their industriousness and intelligence, and a peaceful easy feeling. It was obvious to both Frodo and Sam to be a total pack of lies. But he also spoke of a new kind of system, robust and efficient, that was increasingly deployed on the turnpikes and bridges that networked the land. This new system had partially broken through the barriers of Microdor to the south at the great mall of Minas Kmart. There was much that Saddam was not telling them. Sam speculated that this new system would be poorly documented and only support a command line interface to configure it. He suspected that it would appeal to expert mountain climbers and not someone as flabby and out of shape as Frodo. However Frodo's terror was obvious as was his desire to clutch any straws provided. With a reluctant sigh, Sam sheathed his stiletto and nodded in acquiescence to Saddam's plan. Saddam continue for many more paragraphs of redundant exposition that can safely be elided. It will all be explained in the Appendices or Intestines anyway. When Frodo asked if the way was guarded, Saddam explained that Microdor was powerless to deal with the system's incursion directly. Frodo accepted Saddam's claims without close examination. All that he really wanted at the moment was a warm meal, his bed, and his mommy. They woke in the middle of the day at the sound of saber rattling. Saddam was cowering in a corner as Nazdaqs patrolled Microdor's no maggot zone overhead. A few weeks earlier the Dark Lord had appointed a new head lackey, a Black Numenor named George of the Bungle. Stung by the laughter and mockery of the Orcs, George asserted his authority by blasting some of the more dangerous bushes and sinster stones near the gateway. Saddam explained that they only need remain quiet for a few hours until George became bored. Then there was a sound of marching that would have terrified the timorous trio if they weren't already on the verge of total cellular collapse. Saddam connected to Durthangcam to see what was happening. It showed a vast array of marching Aolholes and Warnerborgs marching south against the compact dells to join the clone wars. Frodo connected to his mailserver and downloaded an animated gif from Cassiopeia. The text read simply, 'Hump me, Obi-wan Baggins. You're my only hope.' 'Was there rational ending for this chapter?' asked Sam. 'No, no endings. What is ending?' said Saddam. Sam stood up, putting on his electric guitar (as he always did when 'mangling poetry'), and began: _I'm feeling just so funky this chapter is so junky. Frodo's gone all chunky eating all the twinkies. We've marched so far like slinkies across the feet of stinkies. I wish I could be sunny and end this chapter funny, then clean my nose all runny. But Dementia 13 is playing and my mind the movie is a-flaying. For me the killfiles are preying and clueless critics crying. Let this chapter go on trying and no more neurons frying._ -- Bush and Dick Bait: Robin Red Breast, Blue Tit, Jackass Penguin, Erect-crested Penguin, Red-necked Grebe, Fairy Prion, Rock Shag. Machine censorred for you protection. -- CACS: Collective Against Consensual Sanity v0.123 pretty pretty http://www.tsoft.com/~wyrmwif/ All new and improved web pages! Bookmark yours today! :)-free zone. Elect LUM World Dictator!