dellyone woke up after being sedated from ranting about some screws
and hammering them into the wall. She looked up and freaked when she
saw a man dressed in the most horrible red and green suit, holding a
flashing multicolored handlink a few feet away from her.
"What's your name? Where were you just a few minutes ago? What
year is it?" he fired off in succession as he walked to dellyone.
"Who the hell are you and what am I doing here?" asked a
groggy dellyone as she saw the flashing handlink. "Hey, is that
a futuristic timer?"
He ignored her questions. "My name is Al. I don't have time to
explain. What's your name?"
"dellyone. I got to get out of here. I have to slide," she
replied as she got up from the table she was on. She looked down and
saw that she was wearing a white skintight body suit.
"What the f..?" she said in amazement as she saw her reflection
on the table - a man with a white streak in his hair looking back at
her. "Whoa! What did they give me? I'm hallucinating now."
"Um... what year is it?" Al insisted. "I have to find
my friend." Al looked up and asked the air. "Ziggy, can you
find Sam?"
"No. I can't get a lock on him. I need the date," answered
a female voice.
"Cool. You talking to a Q?" asked dellyone as she balanced
herself by placing her hand on the edge of the table.
"What's the date!" ordered as he grabbed her right shoulder
and turned her around to face him.
"September 1, 2000," said dellyone as she was shocked into
lucidity.
"Thank you! Ziggy you got it!" Al kissed her on the forehead.
"Yes, admiral," replied Ziggy.
"Uh... okay. I have this rule about not interfering with others.
Kind of my Prime directive. I don't interfere with the internal workings
of a society that I have slid into. I stay away from others and I don't
get screwed," she replied, hands on her hips.
Time was running out so Al reverted to his military no nonsense attitude.
"Sorry, but I *have* to find my friend. You *are* going to help
me whether you want to or not. Now where were you right before you woke
up here?" His stare bore holes into dellyone.
"Katherine Williams Institute in Los Angeles," she meekly
responded. "We are on Earth 1013 right?"
Al was stumped and he didn't have time. "Dr. Beeks, report to
the waiting room," he ordered gruffly.
"I'll be right there, Al," answered a disembodied voice.
Al left in a huff mumbling "Nutcase" leaving dellyone to
her own devices.
"Wonder if they'll take me to the Universal Studios backlot. I
still haven't seen the Delorean or found Doc Brown. I need to get back
to March 22, 1995 and watch the 'Pilot' again." She began to hum
the 'Sliders' theme song.
dellyone
P.S.
Kudos go to anyone who can figure out who runs the Katherine Williams
Institue.;-)