Note from editor: This story is by Elizabeth Tuckwood that while is archive on .fr I am putting it on here for archival purposes. And slightly editing the format so it's easier to read/splitting the story into parts.

Original author's note: Okay, let's see. I guess the standard disclaimers come first. Sailor Moon and related characters are the property of Naoko Takeuchi and more corporations than I can keep track of. This story is meant for entertainment, not profit.
The story itself is mine (Wow-does this mean I get to say something like "Story copyright 1997 by Elizabeth Tuckwood"? Oooh.).





Roll over. Hit alarm clock.


Not the alarm clock.


Communicator alarm. Maybe I could just pretend-


All *right* already!


"Yeah? What is it . . . Amy? Do you know what time-?"

"I've figured it out," Amy interrupts, totally ignoring my question. Also totally ignoring little pleasantries like 'hello' or 'how are you?' or 'sorry to wake you up at 4:30 am.' This is not a good sign. "I'm going to run the program at 6:43. We'll be at the construction site." And she signs off before I can say a word.

It's a carefully calculated maneuver on Amy's part. She knows perfectly well that if I leap out of bed right this minute, I may be able to get there by 6:00, but if I miss a connection, I won't arrive until 6:30. Which will give me thirteen minutes to try to convince her not to make the second worst mistake of her life.

For about half a second I seriously consider just staying home. I mean, what good will it do if I go? She knows I don't approve of what she's doing. But my showing up isn't really a question. If she fails-which is highly likely-she's going to be crushed. Then she's going to need us to help her out, right? Tell her it's going to be all right, offer her our shoulders to cry on, pry the computer out of her hands before she takes her frustrations out on it-that sort of thing.

And then, of course, she might actually succeed. In which case she'll need us to keep from getting herself killed.