Descent into Microsoft (Part 4)
Jon Splatz, jonsplatz@i-want-a-website.com
March 24, 1999

There is no conspiracy.

In Part 3, I described my encounter with a Linux operative
working within the Microsoft Empire.  This meeting never
took place.  I did not meet a spy for the WORLD
Organization (which doesn't exist), nor did I receive any
top secret CD-ROMs or website passwords.  It never
happened.

Subliminal messages are embedded in this page.  Within days
you will completely forget about this whole affair.  There
is no conspiracy.  WORLD operatives have not planted a
virus in Windows 98 that will activate on September 9, 1999
and forcibly download and install Linux on all affected
computers.  

I repeat, there is no conspiracy.  

Well... okay, maybe there is one conspiracy.  But it
doesn't involve Linux double agents infiltrating the
Microsoft Empire.  The conspiracy I've encountered is
against me, Jon Splatz.  Microsoft and CompUSSR, with the
help of Murphy's infernal Law, are conspiring against me.
It appears I will never obtain my Windows Refund.  I've hit
a permanent dead end.

Since the beginning of my odyssey, I've made little
progress.  I can never make it much higher than base camp
on my trek to climb Mt. Everest.  Something always happens
to force me back to the beginning; I'm stuck in an infinite
loop.

However, my saga is now over.   I won't make it to the
top.  For me, Mt. Everest has ceased to exist.  I can't get
a refund for something I don't own.  

But, alas, I'm getting ahead of myself.  Let me pick up the
story where I left it at the end of Part 3.

After leaving the Bay Area, I took a brief detour over to
Humorix World Headquarters. I wanted James Baughn to take a
look at the contents of the two CDs that... uh... well, I
never received.  There is no conspiracy.

I then left the Humorix compound and drove home.  Tired
>from the day's activities, I went to bed fairly early.

I was startled awake by loud banging on my apartment door.
Groggily, I put on my robe and opened the door.  Suddenly,
two goons in suits rushed into my apartment and pinned me
against my couch. 

"Bill's not happy," the first goon said menacingly.
"Wha...?" I stuttered, now wide awake.
"You're still trying to obtain a Windows refund.  We
thought we had settled this little, ah, problem, a couple
weeks ago," the second goon stated.
"Oh dear lord!" I shouted, now fully aware what was
happening.  I was Thirteen-of-Zero, Microsoft Borg, facing
my superiors for attempted crimes against the Collective.
"Your petty attempts at resistance are futile," the first
one spat.
"We know everything.  You are permanently bound into the
Collective.  I think it's high time for a little... ah,
re-education session," the second said in a very disturbing
tone of voice.  
"No!  I'll do..." I tried to protest, but it was futile.

One of the goons took a cable out of his pocket and stuck
one end up my nose.  A dialog box flashed before my eyes. 
"Dial-Up Nasal Connection established with host Cairo
Fifteen."

A new window popped up in my mind, "BorgNet Explorer 5.0
beta".  I watched as countless files were uploaded into my
brain.  I was powerless to stop the transfer of files; I
was unable to avoid "re-education".  Eventually, the
process was complete, and the connection was terminated.

"Done," one of the goons said.  "Repeat after me..."  My
voice, now controlled by the Borg, chanted monotonously, "I
hereby accept my permanent citizenship into the Microsoft
Collective. I will not, under penalty of forced beta
testing, attempt to commit treason against the Collective
by obtaining a refund for my copy of Windows 98.  I also
fully understand that the terms "Microsoft", "Windows",
"Resistance is futile", and "assimilation" are all
registered trademarks of Microsoft Empire."

"All hail Microsoft President William H. Gates III," my
voice added, before it was turned over to my "control".  I
had been re-assimilated into the Collective.   My endeavor
to obtain a Windows refund was now a distant, fuzzy
memory.  I didn't care about anything other than navigating
the Start Menu in my mind to launch Solitaire.

"Our work here is done.  We'll keep in touch,
Thirteen-of-Zero," one of the goons said before leaving.

A few minute later the error "CEREBRUM.EXE has performed an
illegal operation and will be shut down..." appeared in my
mind.  I began to lose consciousness...

I was startled awake by an advertisement for "Stumped on
Phonics" coming from my alarm radio.  It had all been a
dream.   I was still Jon Splatz, Humorix pundit and social
commentator, on a quest to obtain a Windows refund.  

Groggily, I got up and showered, making sure to clean off
the grime I had acquired the previous day at the "El Raton
Grande" motel.  After eating a hearty breakfast of
"Sugar-Coated Sugar Bombs", I sketched out plans for the
day.

I knew what I had to do.  I had managed to avoid it, but I
knew that all other alternatives had been exhausted.  I had
to go back to the local CompUSSR store and demand a Windows
refund -- even if it meant facing Mikhail or Yuri, CompUSSR
Sales Weasals from Hell.

Summoning up all the strength I could muster, I drove
across town to the CompUSSR store.  Upon entering, I looked
around for the Customer Service desk.  I couldn't find it. 
Just a few short weeks ago, when I first ventured into
CompUSSR, a help desk was conveniently located at the front
of the store.  But now it was gone.

Taking a closer look, I noticed a sign on the wall near
where the support desk had been.  "In an effort to serve
our valued customers better, CompUSSR is proud to present a
Self-Service Tech Support Kiosk, located at the back of
Aisle Fifteen".

While I figured this was probably a dead end in my quest, I
ventured back to the "Self-Service Kiosk".  I found a bunch
of pamphlets, worn-out books, and stacks of assorted papers
arranged haphazardly on a large table.  

All of the "tech support" material seemed incredibly old,
and useless.  I didn't see anything that talked about
Windows, DOS, Macintosh, or Linux.  Most of the material
was about systems I had never heard of: PL/I, CP/M, Apple
Lisa, Tandy DeskMate, and countless others.   I came to the
conclusion that no "valued customers" were ever going to
find any help here for their computer problems.

I did find one (and only one) book about Unix (The Unix
Programmer's Manual, 2nd Edition, June, 1972), but it was
clearly an antique -- at one point it said, "The number of
Unix installations has grown to 10, with more expected."  

I almost gave up and left, but then I caught a glimpse of a
sheet of paper that had the words "windows refund" on it. 
Could this sheet of paper contain the vital piece of
information I had been searching for?  Would I obtain a
Windows refund after all?  

No, of course not.  It was an invoice from Anderson Glass
Co. for the plate glass windows at the front of the
CompUSSR store. The company promised to refund the cost of
the windows if they cracked or shattered within three
months of being installed.

About this time a CompUSSR employee walked by.  Maybe he
could help me, I thought.

"Do you know where the customer service desk is?" I asked.
"Cu-sto-mer, what is that?  My first day, here.  Took big
plane from Latvia.  I'm you know, Monica thing... an
intern.  Want to talk to my boss? In Siberia visiting
family.  Wait over there."

The clueless employee pointed towards a row of 15 inch
monitors that were stacked together to form a make-shift
row of chairs. He said, "Seat warmers very nice, eh?  Idea
>from home." 

"Uh, nice.  I'll come back later," I muttered as I edged
away.  I desperately wanted to exit the store.  I couldn't
take it much longer.  Why couldn't I have bought my
computer from Claw-Mart like everyone else?  

Frantically hoping to find a way out of this hell hole, I
spotted a small door to the far right.  Excitement hit me
when I saw a sign on the door that read, "Customer Service
Department".  I quickly opened the door and stepped
through.  I found myself outside, standing in an alley
behind the CompUSSR store.  The door automatically slid
shut behind me and locked.

It would seem that CompUSSR had effectively told me to
shove off.  Knowing that CompUSSR had won this battle, I
walked back around to my car and headed home.

Even though it was only around noon, I was quite tired from
the wild goose chase at CompUSSR.  I decided to settle down
for a midday nap.

I was startled awake by loud banging on my apartment door.
Groggily, I got up and opened the front door.  Outside were
two unpleasant looking goons wearing suits.  

"Not again," I moaned, remembering last night's dream (or
was it?).
"We're with the FBI," the first one said while showing me a
badge.
"Huh?  You're not my Microsoft Borg superiors?" I asked,
rather confused.
"Uh... no," the second responded, while making some kind of
hand gesture to the other, no doubt a "this guy is wacko;
proceed with extreme caution" signal used by the FBI.

The first one then explained their business.  "The FBI is
pursuing an investigation of CompUSSR for alleged illegal
vodka smuggling, software piracy, and false advertising."
One of our agents, posing as a Latvian intern, was able to
smuggle out customer records from the local CompUSSR store.
They show that you recently purchased a CompUSSR system.
We'd like to take a look at it."

Before I could protest, the two agents shoved through the
door, and quickly set to work analyzing my CompUSSR
computer.

After a couple minutes, one said, "Indeed.  This Windows 98
CD-ROM and Certificate of Authenticity are fake.  These
have been pirated. Based on the CD serial number and the
material used in the certificate and manuals, I'd say these
were produced near St. Petersburg.

The agents then dissassembled the system, spreading parts
out onto my table.  "Yes, this obviously isn't an Intel
CPU. It appears to be a... um... let's see if I can
pronounce the name.  Yelskovokosvolgaski, I think it is.
It's a Russian made chip, that's for sure.  Definitely
false advertising here..."

The other added, "Look here... I smell vodka inside the
case. When this box was shipped from Russia, several small
bottles of vodka were probably hidden inside the case,
unbeknownst to customs officials.  CompUSSR has been
selling vodka on the black market without paying American
import tariffs.  These guys make me sick..."

The first agent agreed.  "I think we've found the smoking
gun." Then he said to me, "Mr. Splatz, we'll have to take
your computer to our labs for analysis.  It will have to be
admitted as evidence if charges are brought against
CompUSSR."

"But... wait... but..." I stuttered.

"Crimes have been committed by CompUSSR.  We have to put a
stop to them, or else they could try to smuggle in more
illegal vodka and harm the American vodka industry.  You
can put a stop to this," one of the agents said.  To the
other he ordered, "Bob, get the wheelbarrow."

"Bob" returned a few minutes later with a wheelbarrow full
of papers.  He said, "We'll need you to fill out this
paperwork.  Please read and sign Form 10344A, Section B,
Parts 3-15. You'll also need to initial Forms 35324,
35324B, 35326..."  As I tried to keep up with his
directions, the other agent shoved my computer's various
parts into the wheelbarrow.

"Will I get my system back?" I asked.  Both of the agents
immediately burst into laughter. 

"That's the best one I've heard all day," one chuckled.

After filling out several dozen forms, the FBI agents made
their way to the door.  One said before leaving,  "Thank
you for your time, Mr. Splatz. We'll keep in touch, just in
case you are needed as a witness."

Then they were gone.

Then any hopes of obtaining a Windows refund were gone.  

My whole endeavor had been pointless.  I was trying to
obtain a refund for a piece of software that was pirated. 
And to top it of, now I didn't have a computer.  I'm in
worse shape now than I was before this whole mess started.
I didn't get anywhere close to my goal; I didn't even make
it much beyond the base of the mountain.

My Everest climb had been a disaster.  I started at the
base camp, but in the end I found myself at sea level near
the shore of the Indian Ocean.

I suppose it wasn't a total loss.  I've gained enough
material from my adventure to write another book.  I'm
thinking about calling it "Business @ The Speed of
Windows".  I've also received a job offer from some
publication called "ZDNet USSR", which I haven't had the
chance to pursue yet.

After many twists and turns, my Descent into Microsoft is
over.  It looks like I'll have to find some other adventure
to fill up my Humorix columns. I'm sure something
interesting will happen soon...

It won't involve the WORLD Organization, though.   There is
no conspiracy.


------------------------------------------------------------------------