Not a lot to say tonight. I mean to get off line and do some work on Bulletproof Poets. Here’s today’s pic an a bit more of The Eliza Effect. Be warned, the links go exactly where they say.

Paul had sat down and swiped his mouse across its mat three times before he realised the problem. “Some bugger’s stolen me computer.”
“Who would want to steal your PC? Wandering bands of Pentium thieving Gypsys? Tech Support of course.”
“What the fuck would Tech Support want with a computer?”
“But it does give you a chance to go see Sarah.”
“I’m out of here.”
“What did you mean, ‘Maybe she wasn’t a lesbian before the Christmas party.�'”

Sarah had been segregated from the rest of Tech Support, because she worked for Sales and they were different. It had worked out quite well, because the partition gave her more room. There were four desktop cases and two monitors on one table and a naked case on the other. Sarah was hooking yet another case up to a monitor. “Oh, hi.”
“Hello. Did you, er�.. Do you have my PC?”
“That one there�” She indicated the topless box. “You requested a memory upgrade and CD drive.”
“That was three months ago.”
“There was a pile of work orders on the desk. I guess no-one had bothered to deal with them.” Sarah indicated her out pile, weighted with a coffee cup.
“Oh, I’m not complaining, I’m more sort of surprised. It took me five months to get a bin I could call my own.”
“Oh, well. George told to do them all ASAP. There’s another for a printer upgrade. It’s something to do with a project your working on.”
“A project we’ve almost finished. Oh well.” He spotted the PC she had been plugging in. “That’s not a company build.”
“George has got me working on his home PC.”
“He had one of that lot,” Paul thumbed in the direction of the rest of Tech Support, “doing that as well. Installed a hard drive.”
“They didn’t do too good a job. Formatted it wrong, and now I have to run off a backup to CD so I can reformat. Except�..”
“Except?” Paul leaned in close so he could look at the screen over Sarah’s shoulder.
She had opened Windows Explorer, and selected the properties of the hard drive. The piechart was all pink. Sarah tapped it. “George has only gone and filled the bloody thing right up hasn’t he. I need to find something to delete so I can make room for the drivers.”
“Try the temporary Internet files. That folder can get quite big.”
“Good idea. There. Hey, it lists all the places he’s been. Let’s see. Amazon. Amazon, Amazon, Amazon, Amazon.”
“What dull surfing.”
“Amazon, Amazon, Amazon�” Ann Summers?”
“I didn’t even know he was married.”
“Let’s see where else he’s been.”

Nastyschoolgirl dot com?” Mike asked. “Nasty. Schoolgirl. Dot. Com?”
“Indeed. But that was just one visit. He’d been to must have been every single page of the Ann Summers site. I’ll never be able to look at him again with out seeing the words ‘Realistic jelly feel’. And to top it all off, then we got to the photo personals.”
“You didn’t see�.?”
“Don’t know. They blank out the faces.”
“That does it. I’m wiping my Internet cache. Where is the King of the swingers anyway?”
“‘Taking a meeting’ with someone from head office.”
“Oh God, that means he’s claiming the system was all his idea.”

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