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Prize Magazine #8

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THE PRIZE

Newsletter of the Watchers Of CIS

SEPTEMBER, 1744

ISSUE #8: BLUE LIGHT SPECIAL

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NOTES FROM THE EDITOR'S CAGE

Diet Pepsi billboard on eastbound I-90, Hammond-Gary border, IN:

THERE'S ONLY ONE RIGHT ONE -- UH-HUH!

I believe this means we now know what Adrian and Meilani have been hacking into
with that new Mac.

THE PRIZE has developed quite a wanderlust: during the past month I have
received many messages from people who get THE PRIZE from friends and in turn
pass it along to *their* friends. My heartfelt thanks to the diligent efforts of
Karen Cusimano, who does not take her duties as a missionary lightly.

Just on the off chance that we haven't had enough media-conversion
inconsistencies to worry about, HIGHLANDER: THE ANIMATED SERIES is scheduled to
debut on the USA Network on Sunday, September 18. The time I have heard reported
is 10:30 AM, Pacific; check local listings. Sheri Richardson reports: "The
individual listing on September 18 says HL:TAS follows 'the Scotsman and his
mentor Ramirez' as they battle their 'evil, immortal counterparts' in an
animated 'continuation of the films'."

We also have a preliminary report of a producer-sanctioned fan club being formed
in the United Kingdom. The address given on the Internet list is:

"THE CLAN", The Official UK Highlander Appreciation Society

Joe O'Callaghan
2 Caswell Close
Stocking Farm Estate
Leichester, LE4 2GH
England

More, of course, as it becomes available.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ludicrous: in this issue we have examples of the best
and the worst that HIGHLANDER has to offer.

The Emmy Awards are a September tradition, so, not to be left out, we proudly
present the First and Second Annual Immie Awards.

HIGHLANDER is not the richest of shows, and apparently one thing their budget
does not stretch to is an extra pair of eyes to watch for gaffes.

September, of course, means back to school: herein, the obligatory essay on
"What We Did On Our Summer Vacation". Other people go to Disneyworld; we went to
the Amazon jungle in search of a mysterious land of eternal youth...

Returning to our theme, Linda Walton reports on an extraordinary manifestation
of the show's growing popularity...

And a preliminary air schedule for the beginning of the third season has finally
surfaced.

Next month: frenzied preparations for The Gathering, our first convention of our
very own. Contribution deadline for the October issue is still October first,
however, unless otherwise noted in this forum's boards.

-- Samantha Lynn, 73524,43

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THE IMMIE AWARDS

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At long last, we present without further ado the First and Second Annual Immie
Awards.

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OVERALL FAVORITES

Of preferences in flashbacks: "anything pre 1600 that has a long haired Duncan
on a horse." -- Lynn Fernandez

Much to our surprise, the modern look of a turtleneck and jeans narrowly edged
out the classical flair of tartan in the category of Best Costume -- Duncan. The
Infamous Black Tank Top of UNDER COLOR OF AUTHORITY has been awarded the
Lifetime Achievement Award. A brief glimpse of the debate:

KC -- Third: Darn near anything! ;)

C B-K -- Or ...not anything <BEG>.

B G-S -- Don't forget to add long hair. <grin>

C B-K -- Unshaven, in kilt, rough around the edges though canny... SMC.

SEASON ONE

Best Performance By A Guest Immortal: THE GATHERING, Connor Macleod

Best Shot At Breaking the Typecast Stranglehold: THE GATHERING, Richard "NO
Bull" Moll as Slan Quince

Most Heartbreaking Flashback: FAMILY TREE, "Where? Where do I come from?"

Best Sword: SAVING GRACE, Carlo Sendaro

Most Forgettable Flashback: FOR EVIL'S SAKE, Kuyler kills the baron.

Best Sucking-Up To Authority In The Service Of Immortal Anonymity: EYEWITNESS,
Duncan "Seat Belts Save Lives" MacLeod

Best Death: MOUNTAIN MEN, Duncan goes over a cliff

Best Fight Scene: THE HUNTERS, Duncan takes on a group of thugs and Richie-on-
motorcycle intervenes, with good results. Honorable Mention: THE BEAST BELOW,
Duncan duels Ursa on the roof of the Paris Opera House

Best Wenching Scene: EYE OF THE BEHOLDER, "Yellow Satin Waistcoat"

Best Impression Of A Lioness: FREE FALL, Tessa "Light My Fire" Noel to Felicia
Martins, "I may not be able to kill you, but I'll give you a facial you'll never
forget!"

Best Quickening: THE SEA WITCH, Alexei Voshin

Best Wile E. Coyote Impression: FOR TOMORROW WE DIE, Duncan "Me?!?!" MacLeod,
his response to Tessa's "When are you going to tell him?" [that Renee is
married]

Worst Guest Immortal: MOUNTAIN MEN, Caleb

Best Faerie Story: BAD DAY IN BUILDING A, Duncan "They're All Around Us" MacLeod

SEASON TWO

Best Wenching Scene: EPITAPH FOR TOMMY, "In the hayrick with Bess" ("Both T__
and I groaned and complained when they came out with clothes on -- but you
aren't going to put that in THE PRIZE, are you?") Honorable Mentions: RETURN OF
AMANDA, "Where's that tattoo?"; EYE FOR AN EYE, Duncan and Annie on the dock

Best Gratuitous Consumption Of Alcohol: COUNTERFEIT, part I, "More wine, wench!"

The "Br'er Rabbit" award goes to COUNTERFEIT, part I: "That's it: hang me! Hang
me!"

Best Fight: UNHOLY ALLIANCE I, fighting Xavier St. Cloud in the warehouse,
Duncan does a Backflip/Twist over Xavier's head.

Worst Immortal: Anthony Galen [Roddy Piper], EPITAPH FOR TOMMY. Dishonorable
Mentions: Sully [Bruce Weitz], THE FIGHTER; Mako [Jonathan Banks], UNDER COLOR
OF AUTHORITY ("somebody, buy this man a sense of humor, please")

Best Vote Of No-Confidence: THE RETURN OF AMANDA,

Amanda: "I'll never forget this."
Duncan: "Yes, you will."

Best Headache: BAND OF BROTHERS, Duncan bangs his head on the steering wheel of
the T-bird during an attempt to dislodge Intrepid Reporter Randi.

Best Empty Promise: RETURN OF AMANDA, Amanda swears on her mother's grave...

Best Quickening -- EPITAPH FOR TOMMY, Anthony Galen

Best Well-Earned Rebuke -- STUDIES IN LIGHT, Linda Plager to nurse, "I'll
medicate *you* in a minute."

Best Wile E. Coyote Impression: THE RETURN OF AMANDA, Duncan "F B I ?!?!"
MacLeod upon examining the wallet of the pursuer he just took down.

Best Straight Line: PHARAOH'S DAUGHTER,

Nefertiri: "Where are the horses?"
Duncan: "They're in there [the hood]... they're really tiny..."

Best Line, Male Actor in a Subordinate Role: COUNTERFEIT part II, Richie to
Dawson, "Stick around... I'll be right back."

Most Delightful Flashback: LEGACY, "But yer women! ...And yer English!"

Flashback To Be Most Envious Of The Life Depicted Therein: LEGACY, "Rebecca
rescues Amanda" ["Give me a grey horse and a castle anyday"]

Best Deliciously Bad Performance By A Guest Immortal: PRODIGAL SON, Martin Hyde

Worst Case Of David Bowie Fixation: THE VAMPIRE, Nicholas Ward

Best Scheming & Plotting: COUNTERFEIT, James Horton

Best Cheap Shot And Return: STUDIES IN LIGHT, Gregor to Duncan, "I didn't
realize you were the boy's father."

Best Performance By A Returning Immortal: LEGACY, Amanda

Best Death: RUN FOR YOUR LIFE, Duncan takes a shotgun blast to the chest

Most Improvement Shown By A Character In A Secondary Role: Joe Dawson [Jim
Byrnes]

Best Period Costumes, Female: LEGACY, Rebecca & Amanda

Best Nonfight: EYE FOR AN EYE, Duncan tutors Richie

Best Embalming: PHAROAH'S DAUGHTER, Nefertiri

Our warmest thanks to all who contributed, but if you think I'm attributing each
and every one of these, you're nuts.

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And MARYANN MCKINNON's fortuitous essay on her favorite battles:

My personal favorite is the first season battle with Grayson in BAND OF
BROTHERS. Duncan was *beaten*, he *crawled*, he felt that there was absolutely
*no way* he could win. He knelt, with bowed head, waiting for the end. And
then he turned to block the incoming blow from behind, completely surprising
Grayson, cutting him, and the tide of the battle completely turned. He knew,
now, that he could win, on a gut level, and he did it.

I think I love this fight on more than one level. It's not just the technique.
For me, Adrian Paul puts more into his sword fights than *just* technique
(although I personally think his technique is excellent); he uses it as an
avenue for his superb acting ability.

This fight also brings up another point; is this technique a signature of
Duncan's, and is it a good thing or a bad thing to have him use a "signature"
technique? I'm referring specifically to the fact that the technique mentioned
above appeared again in [THE VAMPIRE]. I know some folks on the Highlander list
complained that this was "repetitive," but I *liked* seeing the same technique
again. It's certainly something that could get him out of trouble at the very
last minute.

Following chain of consciousness... "Signature techniques" could I suppose be
very bad news -- witness Duncan teaching Richie Annie Devlin's favorite
technique, and how to counter it in AN EYE FOR AN EYE. Without the knowledge
that she was likely to do this, Richie would never have had a snowflake's chance
of winning. Except with Duncan, I get the feeling that he has an entire
*repertoire* of special-situation techniques that he's likely to pull out like a
rabbit out of a hat to use to surprise his opponent, all of which have the force
of "signature techniques." Thoughts anyone?

Finally, I want to mention one thing that always seems to run through Duncan's
swordfights that to me makes them very special. In almost every case, when an
Immortal gets run through, he goes to his knees, and waits to lose his head.
Not Duncan. On several occasions, he has been run through -- or been put in a
situation in which the expected thing to do would be to give up (he *pretends*
to give up, to mislead his opponent!), but no such luck; he continues fighting.
My favorite example of this? PRODIGAL SON in which he has as much to overcome
psychologically as he did in BAND OF BROTHERS -- this is the man who beat him
several times over when he was a new Immortal, and didn't take his head only
because he was "not worth the trouble!" I *loved* the scene in which the other
man is *sure* that he's won after running Duncan through -- but Duncan pulls it
off and beheads him anyway. Whatever the "Highlander" is, he's not a quitter!

[Reprinted with permission of the author]

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CONTINUITY? WHUZZAT?

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As complicated as the filmmaking process has become, inevitably mistakes will
creep into even the best-planned of sequences...

HIGHLANDER -- when Kurgan is driving Brenda, there is a van on the wrong side of
the road, always in front of the car with a man and a large camera on a tripod
sticking out the back. [Kevin Brown]

THE GATHERING -- A freeze-frame of the fight on the bridge reveals that as
Duncan begins his downstroke, Slan's head is already missing.

BAD DAY IN BUILDING A -- when Duncan and Belinda approach the judge's secret
door, Duncan leans right up against it. But when we see it from the other side,
there's a Fire Extinguisher on the door where Duncan's hip was a second earlier.
[Helva Peters]

THE SEA WITCH -- Voshin explains that the name of his boat is a Yugoslavian
word; however, Stalin's mass purges of the Thirties predate the invention of
Yugoslavia, a creation of World War II. [courtesy J. Smith-Schneider]

THE SEA WITCH -- Duncan falls into the water, climbs up a rope dripping, and
arrives upon the deck of the boat bone-dry.

MOUNTAIN MEN, EPITAPH FOR TOMMY, and elsewhere -- on occasion, the point is
quietly made that Duncan carries about a quite-visible sword, leaving one to
wonder at the general proliferation of absurdly handy draws.

THE BEAST BELOW -- Opera companies, chronically underfunded as most of them are,
watch over expensive prop weapons with an especially paranoid eye -- in fact,
they are kept under lock and key; a real head would roll if even one dagger was
left casually unaccounted-for with a costume.

LADY AND THE TIGER -- If Amanda *had* known Richard I, her description would
likely have been somewhat less glowing about the subject of his manly prowess.

AVENGING ANGEL -- a quasi-YAHOO: Duncan takes Cahill in the crypt that
subsequently appears in the second-season credits under the voiceover, "With
holy ground his only refuge."

second season -- it appears that somewhere along the way the concept of the
"Gathering" has quietly been swept under the carpet. [courtsey Claire Meier]

RETURN OF AMANDA -- Historically, Amanda's counterfeit plates are for silver
certificates, and thus useless even had she gotten the dates changed. [courtesy
HIFAQS]

BLESS THE CHILD -- Correct me if I'm wrong, but I dinna see no diaper bag get
rescued from the burning truck.

BLESS THE CHILD -- At the bottom of the cliff, Duncan is bareheaded; climbing
the cliff, Duncan is wearing a cap; at the top of the cliff, Duncan is
bareheaded. You be the judge.

UNDER COLOR OF AUTHORITY -- Tim Ramsey said in 1880 that he was in trouble
because his brother rode with the Daltons. They've been into the paint thinner
again: the Daltons weren't until 1891.

UNDER COLOR OF AUTHORITY -- Although the show is theoretically set in the US,
the motel Richie escapes to with Laura uses the Canadian spelling of "Centre".

UNHOLY ALLIANCE part I -- We learn that to preserve his maidenly modesty Duncan
wears white shorts under his kilt.

WARMONGER -- Duncan's white scarf disappears somewhere between the ballet and
Eli's apartment.

WARMONGER -- Unfortunately for Drake in 1917, the phrase "Diamonds are forever"
was coined (as "A diamond is forever") by an ad agency in 1948.

PHARAOH'S DAUGHTER -- Displaying a rare talent for working without actually
looking at the film, the editors tacked the final head-blow to a stroke aimed
for Nefertiri's knees. [courtesy HIFAQS]

LEGACY -- I'm still trying to figure out who was standing on top of the hay
stack. [Michael Cataldo]

PRODIGAL SON -- Although Duncan is so upset that he rides his horse into a
lather looking for Connor, he manages to find a moment somewhere to remove his
black leggings.

PRODIGAL SON -- Hardly the only inviso-sword, but one of the worst: Duncan pulls
his sword out of a sport jacket and jeans.

PRODIGAL SON -- The card Duncan leaves for Hyde is signed "MaCleod".

PRODIGAL SON -- When Richie and Duncan dissolve into giggles at the end, it's
actually an outtake that the director decided to keep. [courtesy HIFAQS]

COUNTERFEIT part II -- Tessa Noel has lost, in death, her umlaut; compare the
gallery sign in EYEWITNESS.

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The crew, not content with mere inaccuracies, have on occasion also left
deliberate traces of their hand in the production:

THE WATCHERS -- the spies with the laser-sights lurk above a sign reading
"Kenneth Gord Publications": Ken Gord is the producer.

STUDIES IN LIGHT -- at the motocross rally a trailer bears the legend "Panzer
Racing Team": Bill Panzer is the executive producer.

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NAKED CAME THE HIGHLANDER

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Living in a virtual world as we do, this summer four of our Watchers found it
natural to take a Virtual Holiday to Brazil, land of soccer, mystery, and
magic...

GENESIS

Helva Peters -- "There was some speculation a while ago about whether Pre-Immies
could have kids. And about whether Active Immies could have Test Tube Babies.

"Gee, we haven't heard anything about Grace Chandel/Chandler lately. Maybe
she's back at Carlo's plantation in the Amazon doing research on...

"Sa-am! Grab the Virtual Duncan Clones, we're heading for Brazil!"
_______________________________

THESIS

The airport terminal throbs with drums and ecstatic Brazilian soccer fans.
"Yes, we are happy that we won -- still, there are more exciting ways. But we
are working on that for next time..." The Brazilian winks and hands the Exalted
Ones a card printed with an address deep in the Amazon jungle. Wondering, They
board the plane and take off into the rosy dawn sky, bound for Sao Paulo.

_______________________________

ANTITHESIS

Fri, 22 Jul, 1994

There is a glossy postcard of a soccer player tacked to the Hall's main bulletin
board. "Sao Paulo, Brazil -- We are having a marvelous time with Our friends the
Fun Brazilians. Last night they took Us dancing, and We encountered a most
appealing young specimen. Unfortunately there was only one of him, but when We
asked if there were 'any more like him at home', he smiled and wrote down an
address on a napkin. It was the same as the address on the card the woman gave
Us at the airport... Most curious. Tomorrow We fly to Manaus to pick up a guide
into the Amazon to investigate. Wish You Were Here, Love, the Exalted Ones..."

Fri, 29 Jul, 1994

Tacked on the main bulletin board of the hall are several sheets of thin airmail
paper. "Dear Minions:

We hope this letter gets to you all right since We have been rather busy lately
and did not get to mail it before We left Manaus, so We are giving it to a boat
going back to the city.

After rendezvouing with the Keeper of the Flame at the Opera House, We set out
to uncover the mystery of the address We keep being directed to. Tourist
Information were very helpful when we showed them the first card: "Ah, that is
our pride and joy, the new soccer camp! My own son trains there; in four years
there will not be another of these ridiculous 'tied games' to end the World Cup!
This is the bus you take..."

We arrived at the soccer camp without incident (Divine Radiance is proof against
Brazilian men as well as mosquitoes). It was a beautiful sight, dozens of
healthy young Brazilian lads running around in the sun, but soon We found our
eyes drawn to a pair of dark-haired young twins sitting on a bench to one side,
talking. They turned out to be the Paulistano's younger brothers -- which is
rather a pity, as it means they are a bit too young for Us.

"I don't suppose," We said, "that since you look so much like your older
brother, that there are yet *more* of you hidden away somewhere?"

They looked at each other for a moment and laughed. "You are the Powers that
cannot be denied," one says. "We are going home for a few days; you can come
with us to see for yourselves."

So We are all on a boat on a tributary of the Amazon, heading into the great
forest. Must stop now, Twin #1 says he sees a boat going the other way which can
take this letter back to Manaus. Will write again when possible..."

Sun, 31 Jul, 1994

A new sheet arrives in distinctive blue-and-red edged envelope....

Having difficulty keeping Her Divine Radiance focused on the majestic Brazilian
Highlands looming ahead. Four days on this river, and still she flirts with the
twin boys! Even for her, they are too young. At least the men laboring over the
oars are immune to her brilliance.

Passed a well-used landing yesterday. A painted blond lady was directing
indigenous persons in off-loading what looked like laboratory equipment, except
for one curious box labelled "Titlist".

Later....

Have finally left the river. The mosquitoes were getting unusually bothersome
(suspect Her Divineness didn't take my comment about "jail bait" too well). The
flora reminds one of NW Africa. Encountered beautiful waterfall this morning;
was able to get some nice sketches and a much-needed bath. Thought I heard male
voice above the falls. No time to investigate; Goddess is adamant that we reach
the foot of the Highlands by nightfall.

One of the men is heading back to river; must rush to send this correspondence
with him. MYN.

[no date given]

A dog-eared postcard of the Manaus Opera House is tacked on the main bulletin
board. "Dear Minions --

Third day in the jungle and the next letter will be on palm leaves, I'm afraid.
Our guides say we can send this back from the alleged trading post up ahead, so
here goes.

Scenery is still breathtaking and the guides remark much upon the clouds of
butterflies that have begun following Us, attracted to Our Divine Radiance. But
the twins remain frustratingly silent as to Our destination; all they will say
is that we are going to their home up in the Highlands to see that which We have
been sent to see. Sent by whom? I suspect there is more to this Divine Radiance
trick than I have thought. The Brazilian in the airport was obviously a
messenger -- but from where? And who did she think We were...?

Many questions, only partial answers. Even the monkey that has adopted the Head
Hacker looks smug and secretive. We have resolved to seek what information there
is to be had when/if we reach the trading post tomorrow. Meanwhile, We remain,

Yours, the Exalted Ones.

PS We made it, more later."

Thu, 4 Aug, 1994

There are several sheets of expensive stationery tacked to the Hall's main
bulletin board. "Dear Minions,

Much has happened since Our last opportunity to write. I believe that The Keeper
may have some observations of her own to add about the days since we left the
trading post, but let me now recount the last few hours, when we broke out of
the jungle onto a cleared plantation.

This is where the twins live. I have seen houses with Jaguars in the driveway,
but rarely so large a house, or so literal a jaguar. We were alarmed at first,
but the twins went up and scratched it behind its ears -- it turns out that it
is an elderly and toothless ward that lives on the estate grounds. Still
beautiful, though, for all of that.

When we went into the house their parents were not as surprised to see us as
they might have been expected to be. Strange. I suspect even more strongly that
we have been summoned here.

Their mother is small and dark-haired, quite a beauty; but it's their father
that the twins seem to take after more. He looks to be quite a lot older than
their mother, but distinguished, with his gray hair swept into a small tail! I
would think him most remarkable if it were not for the twins' elder brother.
More about him later; for now I will say that the four sons of this couple are
peas in a very attractive pod. (And he has his father's expressive eyebrows. I
am most impressed.)

The french doors in my chamber look out upon a vast expanse of cleared lands and
forest. I think I see a soccer pitch laid out in the distance by a cluster of
outbuildings; this is Brazil, after all, I imagine that the workers love thier
game in between -- whatever it is that they do. Perhaps when we go to take
supper with the family tonight they will tell us more about the workings of the
estate; so far everyone has been curiously vague about what it is this vast
plantation produces.

Must stop now to get cleaned up for supper. Very much looking forward to a hot
shower, if we can get the Head Hacker out of it, ha ha. Love, The Exalted Ones."

Fri, 5 Aug, 1994

[Another airmail letter floats to the table....]

It's good to be sleeping in a real bed again. House is lovely, very open to the
cool afternoon breezes -- the mosquito netting puffs ethereally. Gladly tie it
in place at night, otherwise would be eaten alive before dawn.

Spent several hours sketching the house cat, who obligingly lies motionless for
hours.

Goddess is in Her Heavens with three boys in the house. Oy! The Master of the
house looks strangly familiar, know I've seen him before....

Later....

Spent this afternoon with the Mistress, making bread. Climate is marvelous for
yeast! Coffee is the best since trip to Cartegena in the 70s (long story).

Head Hacker is surprisingly quiet. She seems to be surveying everything and is
constantly scribbling on her Newton; now I can see why she brought along the
extra RAM cards.

More soon, friends.

Mind your neck.

--Sheri
Keeper of the Flame

Sat, 6 Aug, 1994

A note is tacked on the Bulletin Board

Hi All, I just picked up my airline ticket to Brazil.

Lynn
Cardinal Fang

On the floor is a to-do-list:
Passport
Baedecker's guide to Brazil
Berlitz teach yourself Portugese
Bug Repellent
Cat treats

[no date given]

There are several sheets of airmail onionskin paper tacked to the main bulletin
board in the hall. "Dear Minions --

We are in the middle of the Amazon jungle, about the most remote place one can
be on this earth; nothing but forest for hundreds of miles around us; and when
we sat down to dinner tonight, what happened? The doorbell rang. The eldest son
(his name is Joao) went to answer it and brought back none but our own Cardinal
Fang. A little the worse for wear, but in good spirits; we sent her upstairs to
rest after the introductions and returned to our meal. We were the only ones who
seemed surprised by her arrival...

The Master and Mistress are frustratingly evasive when we ask about the business
of the plantation. I have made up my mind to go for a nice walk around the
grounds tomorrow, if possible. There is Something Going On here and I intend to
get to the bottom of it.

Meanwhile, though, the night is beautiful and soft. I should go close the french
doors now, as the moths are getting a little thick (I am too tired to remember
how to turn down the Divine Radiance), but on the other hand, as I have no
difficulties with mosquitoes, perhaps I shall leave them open. Such fine clean
air shouldn't all be wasted on the outside, after all.

Allergically Yours, Herself."

Tue, 9 Aug, 1994

A sheet of the finest linen arrives....

Goddess is prowling again. Even the three boys can hold her interest no longer.
Her Radiance seems drawn to some end that no one can see, although I observed
the heads of this strange household exchange knowing glances between courses
this evening. (I almost missed it when the most delectable crustaceans were laid
on my plate. The herbed sauce was the lightest ever, and yet engrossed the
senses. I must discover what herbs these are.) For now, I simply MUST take a
nap.

Later....

Awoke bathed in perspiration. For the second time, my dreams have been invaded
by a man of longish light-brown hair, swathed in shades of blue. I do not
believe he is a mortal danger, but the dreams are unsettling in a vaguely
familiar way. Again I wonder about those herbs....

Went out to sit on the terrace where there is just enough of a cooling breeze to
keep the mosquitos from alighting. My eyes may yet have to awaken for I thought
I saw lights dancing in the distance, where the growth is so thick as to drown
out the largest bonfire.

The mistress of the house came out to join me. I remembered to ask after the
herbs. (I shan't be able to get them into the country, it seems.) Though she has
but smiled on earlier enquiries, when asked of her children she was most
talkative of their younger years. Discovered that Joao, the eldest, is actually
close to earning his Doctorate! She again only smiled when asked if he would be
the first doctor in the family.

Excused myself to dash off these few paragraphs before retiring for the night.
Believe Her Divinity has an excursion planned for tomorrow and suspect I'll need
the rest.

Your faithful scribe and,

--Keeper of the Flame

Wed, 10 Aug, 1994

There are several waterstained sheets of paper tacked to the hall's main
bulletin board. "Dear Minions,

Lesson number One in the Amazon: no matter how fine the night, never leave your
windows open. I was just jolted awake from wishful dreams by a sudden gust of
wind that swept through my room and threw wide the french doors. By the time I
managed to wake up enough to stagger over to close them, a pelting rain had
blown in; everything is soa

(later)

Excuse the writing as I cannot exactly see; the lights are out from the
lightning and I have only the most peculiar of lanterns to work by, but I must
get this down.

When the lights went out I sighed and started making sure that everything was
turned off so there would be no damage from potential power surges. As I was
unplugging the lamp near the window, I noticed a flickering light bobbing across
the lawn. It came to my terrace; in the dim green glow I was barely able to
recognize the eldest son, Joao.

He held up the object he bore; it looked like a jar of fireflies. As the rain
was gusting quite enough that he was having some trouble just standing, I let
him in. (Lest you think me a complete wanton, remember: he had the only light.)

"Mother remembered seeing that you left your window open, so I came to see that
you were all right," he said, and handed me the jar. It was indeed full of
sluggishly crawling fireflies, and I remarked upon this. He got one of those
Mysterious Looks that were already driving me quite mad.

"The twins were out catching them before the storm started," he said. "It's just
as well -- sometimes when we have these storms, nothing electrical at all will
work, not even batteries. We don't know why..." And he sneezed.

I set the jar on the desk and went to fetch him a towel; but when I returned he
had fallen asleep in a chair. So I suppose I shall leave him there until I can
come up with a better plan... More later when I am not writing by firefly-light.
Yours, Herself."

11 Aug, 1994

A page ripped from a travel diary is lying on the floor below the virtual
Bulletin Board.

Day 2 am

What a trip! I had to bribe a guide to get this far, and then he abandoned me in
this tiny village. I've been asking for a ride to the plantation, but no one
will take me. I think the bartender called the plantation. I can't understand
half of what he he says, he talks too fast. He just gestured for me to look at
the door. Oh. Got to run, this must be one of the twins. Wow!

Day 2 pm

What a place. It's so deep into the jungle I don't think I could ever find my
way out alone.

Day 4 am

The Keeper awoke me from a deep sleep this morning. I could hear her in her room
talking loudly to someone. At breakfast I asked her whom she was talking to,
but she looked alarmed and signaled me to be quiet.

Day 5 am

I found the Head Hacker's Newton, but there is no sign of her. I'm worried.
The Goddess is totally preoccupied with Joao and seems totally unconcerned with
HH's disappearance.

Lynn
Cardinal Fang

11 Aug, 1994

A "Par Avion" enscribed parcel lands on the table.... >thud!<

Faithful Friends,

Here are my sketches so far. The storm last evening encouraged me to send these
ahead lest foul weather cloud them. Note the one of Tabby, as I've come to call
the house "cat", reclining in the tree. I know the beast was sleeping with her
eyes open!

Almost killed myself while making my way to the lav this morning by tripping
over a mayonnaise jar filled with dead bugs. Ick! Mulched them in the garden.

I'm off to the kitchen for my morning coffee. More later.

Mind your necks,

--Keeper of the Flame

[no date given]

A letter is tacked to the board. Attached is its envelope postmarked Brazil,
Canada, England. Att: Doorkeeper. A little yellow post-it lies on the floor.
"Doorkeeper, for your eyes only."

It happened unexpectedly during my trip to Brazil with the Keeper & the Goddess:
I met him. I was sitting alone on the veranda when I heard the music. It was, I
think, "Aranjuez" by Rodrigo. I left my Newton on the table and followed the
trail of notes, to him. Adao (as I would later find out) didn't hear me
approach. Unnoticed, I admired his profile, the slight frown as he concentrated
on his playing, and the few strands of gray that ran through his hair. He was,
obviously, an older brother. I bumped into a plant, the pot shattered on the
hard floor. He started, then smiled at me. Embarrassed, I smiled back. What a
wonderful face, textured with laugh lines and care lines. The face of a person
of experience, not these young boys the Goddess lusted after, who are living
only for today, but someone who has seen hardship and happiness.

"Please keep on playing," I said. He played for me until a servant bade me come
to dinner. Adao declined, but encouraged me to join my friends.

Head Hacker

12 Aug, 1994

There are several sheets of plain paper tacked to the hall's main bulletin
board. "Dear Minions,

It has been too squashy to do much exploring, although the Head Hacker seems to
have gone off regardless. Being confined to the manor has its good points, of
course, although Cardinal Fang looked at me most strangely when I mentioned the
events of the night of the storm, and she has not spoken much since. I'm not
sure if she is jealous or coming down with something -- she did spend a
harrowing few weeks in the open jungle, after all. I will ask Mistress Gracinha
if there is a doctor on the plantation, as it is probably best to catch these
things early.

Joao is a dear but stubbornly closemouthed on certain subjects. When the ground
dries out I have resolved that I will not be put off any more from my
investigations, no matter how attractive the distraction. This morning I thought
I saw people on the soccer field down by the outbuildings, but by the time I
located my binoculars they had all gone. Joao has promised to take us riding
tomorrow, weather permitting; and I have noticed that the stables are down in
that direction. Opportunity may yet knock.

The Keeper has sent you some of her sketches, as they were beginning to warp in
the humidity. She is really quite good although I notice she did not send you
the wonderful study she did of Master Vitor and Tabby at the breakfast table. (I
believe she intends to make a present of it to the Mistress when we leave.)
Lately, however, she has been working on a portrait of a man whom I do not
recognize, and when we ask she is evasive. Later I will inventory the population
of the house to see if she has perhaps come across one of the mysterious workers
-- that, at least, I won't need boots for.

The twins have promised to entertain us after lunch with a demonstration of
their skill at capoeira, which is a Brazilian cross between a dance and a
martial art. They are practicing on the lawn outside my window right now,
despite the mud; the dance is beautiful although I have to flinch at how close
some of the high kicks come. One cannot, however, deny the salutary effects the
exercise has had upon them, heh heh.

Must go now, Silvino just slipped in the mud and kicked Serafim in the head.
More later, Love, Herself."

13 Aug, 1994

An envelope slips under the door...

Friends --

Hoping the sun holds. Grounds have rapidly been drying out and an excursion this
afternoon looks possible.

Her Divinity is poking into every corner of the hacienda. Caught her peering
over my shoulder earlier and I about jumped out of my skin. Everyone is on edge.
Her Grace Cardinal Fang has seemed almost frantic over the "disappearance" of
the Head Hacker.

Friends, I suspect she has simply found a quiet glen in which to meditate. Or
perhaps she has located the painted lady with the golf balls. Hmmm, there *was*
a shaggy, late-30ish man there helping the lady with the unloading... perhaps
this *does* merit inquiry.

Looking forward to an exhausting hike through the underbrush. Sleep has been
nonexistent. Can't keep this face out of my head. The image is vivid even now,
unlike most dreams which fade within minutes. None of my sketches do it justice.
The eyes haunt me. In my dream he stands alone, though I can hear the sound of
thousands around him. Not sound really; it's eerie.

The lady of the manor seems to understand and has been most kind. I'm thankful
the Goddess is distracted by the hordes of bronzed young men that seem to appear
on the soccerfield every morning. Otherwise I'm sure I'd have to endure a full
grilling. Nice to take communion with Her Grace again, though; perhaps I'll ask
her to join me later when I walk the boundaries of the forest and tell her of my
suspicions of the Head Hacker's whereabouts.

More later....

--Keeper of the Flame

[no date given]

Two fax pages lay on the table. There is a footprint obscuring part of the
message. "Doorkeeper: Confi<smudge,>pls<smudge>display."

Memoirs of a Head Hacker cont:

I found a note from Adao under my door this morning, asking me to meet him in
the stable. He had a knapsack filled with food. Jordan the stableboy warned us
the others were coming. We hid in the loft like truant teenagers watching the
others prepare to go riding into the jungle. A ripple of giggles escaped me. He
suppressed his own, but his eyes were laughing with me. I felt so young and
carefree.

We went for a long, pleasant walk, talking about nothing and everything. He
told me he was raised here, but educated in the States and he had just returned
from a European business trip. He hated to travel because it took him so long
to get over jet lag. We found a small clearing and stopped to eat. The trees
were alive with squawking and chirping birds whose bright colors competed with
the flowers surrounding us. I was sorry to leave, but evening was falling.

I caught a glimpse of the Keeper and Her Grace. They were standing outside my
room looking very distressed. Adao stopped me from approaching them. In fact he
became rather adamant that I stay away from them. He took me to his room and...
encouraged me to stay with him.

[no date given]

There are several sheets of paper covered in a small neat hand tacked to the
hall's main bulletin board. "Dear Minions:

Sorry to scare you by not writing but it has been an eventful few days. This is
Joao's handwriting, in case you haven't guessed; we had a bit of an accident
when we went out riding the day before yesterday. Divine Radiance, it seems, is
not proof against the larger insects, and I was stung by something that, it
turns out, I am quite allergic to. They tell me I had to be carried back up to
the house (I don't remember anything), but fortunately Mistress Gracinha is
herself a doctor, and I am more or less all right now.

Besides the unfortunate conclusion, our ride was only marred by the absence of
the Head Hacker. It is a pity, for I am sure she would have enjoyed the
magnificent scenery. "Green" is such a small word to try to describe the Amazon
with, I'm afraid, but that's what it is; so green that one could look at it
forever and never see the same shade twice.

Cardinal Fang and the Keeper seemed very distracted, however. They kept looking
around as if they expected every moment that a real jaguar or worse would come
leaping out of the trees at us. I wish I knew what they were looking for,
perhaps I could help.

Anyway, we are having a marvelous time despite everything, and we do so wish
that all of you could meet the family. Love...

[the letter continues in a different handwriting.]

Finally managed to convince Joao that I will be all right on my own for a while.
His concern is touching but I am not used to being hovered over, and there are a
few things to tell that I couldn't dictate.

First, the stables. The area was deserted when we descended to the outer complex
save for the stableboy, who, it seems, is an American lad "seeing the world".
Ordinarily I would not give him a second look, but it is refreshing to see so
plain and ordinary a face amidst the splendor of the family.

The stableboy, Jordan, speaks English, of course, so I was able to coax from him
some information concerning the grounds. Ostensibly, the plantation produces
coffee; but Jordan says that there are certain areas that he has been "strongly
discouraged" from entering. We were only able to speak in passing, but he seemed
to be alluding to some great mystery surrounding the family's origins.

And mystery is probably the best word for it, for I have found the Head Hacker;
and *she* has found another lookalike brother! This eldest of them, Adao, has
apparently been secluded in the family's wing of the manor, recovering from jet-
lag after returning from abroad. The Head Hacker brought him with to see me
while I was recovering from the insect attack; pity they just missed the Keeper
and the Cardinal, it would have laid their fears to rest, but now she has gone
off with him again, and I'm not sure to where, as I never did find that part of
the family's quarters.

With the addition of Adao it begins to resemble Old Home Week with the Dionne
Quints around here. Perhaps it is the power of suggestion, then, that lent shape
to my feverish delusions while I lay ill from the effects of the sting and
Gracinha's medicines -- but I could have sworn that at times there were *two* of
Joao tending me. "Curiouser and curiouser", said Alice...

Must stop now, Joao will doubtless return soon and I do not want him to see me
up. More when I am feeling better. Love, Herself."

[no date given]

Memoirs of a Head Hacker

Thursday:
Adao has taken me to a small house about an hour's walk from the hacienda. I
feel something is wrong, but when I press him he distracts me with a laugh or a
touch.

We were sitting on the porch this afternoon, Adao playing his guitar while I
sipped some wine, when my attention was caught by a light reflecting from the
surrounding jungle. I thought I saw Cardinal Fang, but Adao convinced me I was
mistaken. I know I wasn't. This isolation is making me nervous. I must get
back to the hacienda.

Friday:
Adao mentioned to me that the Goddess had been injured. I was so upset.
Reluctantly, to convince me she was all right, we went to the hacienda to see
her. She looked tired, but was well attended by Joao, Adao's younger brother.
Adao lied to the Goddess as to where we were staying. I didn't correct him.
Have I let my feelings for him affect my better judgement?

We collected most of my possessions before we left. I feel we will not be
returning here. I peeked into the Keeper's room hoping she was there. I saw a
man's portrait on the easel. She is so talented! I wanted to leave her a note
but Adao interrupted me. I wish he would tell me what is going on here.

Mon, 15 Aug, 1994

A tattered piece of paper ripped out of a notebook appears. A coffee cup ring
stains the upper margin.

I have succumbed to the seductive nature of the jungle. The wild overgrowth, so
raw and primeval, is overwhelming. It makes me feel insignificant, yet part of
something greater. And the sounds... wild sounds, free sounds.

I have forgotten what day it is.

I went, unaccompanied, for a walk (when? yesterday? the day before? I'm not
sure) into the jungle. I followed a narrow path and, after maybe an hour's
trek, I discovered a small house. There I found the Head Hacker and I can
understand why she is missing. Obviously one of our host's handsome sons had
snared her. She looked so relaxed and happy listening to him play the guitar.

I was going to step into the clearing when I was grabbed from behind. A hand
clamped across my mouth. "Don't scream," a soft voice with a familiar accent
breathed into my ear. I turned to look at my host. "Let's leave them alone."
He winked, took my hand, and led me back to the hacienda. "I was afraid you
might get lost wandering about without a guide." I know we talked, but I have
forgotten all except his presence.

Cardinal Fang

Tue, 16 Aug, 1994

A page from a plain notepad falls away, obviously having recently been adhered
to the coffee stain....

Your Grace --

Something is wrong here. Very, very wrong.

Goddess seeing double and triple... Head Hacker's mysterious absence... and now
my dreams are become waking dreams, I can think of nothing else.

I'm getting myself to a safe distance from this place to clear my head. Just a
quick note to let you know, as you seem unaffected, and so you won't worry.

Autumn sheets, never dry.

Mind your neck.

--Keeper of the Flame

[no date given]

There are several sheets of paper covered in a sprawling hand tacked to the
hall's main bulletin board. "Dear Minions,

Still in bed although I am feeling much better; I plan to sneak out tomorrow
while they think I have not yet recovered enough to get into trouble. I *will*
get to the bottom of this!

The Keeper has gone into the jungle to clear her mind of the oddity of this
place. I don't blame her: this morning I swore I heard Joao out in the hall
talking to himself. While this is not ordinarily that bad a habit, I found it
odd that it seemed to be quite the impassioned argument he was having.

Cardinal Fang seems very distracted when she comes in to see me; and she won't
come in when Joao is here. I am not sure of the cause of her ill-will, but it
probably has something to do with the underlying mystery. Five sons, from
sixteen to forty, and all exactly alike? I don't think so...

Jordan the stableboy came up to see me; I made him swear that if anything
happened to us he would try to escape with our story. Why do I have such a
feeling of dread that one day soon we will no longer be allowed to send you
these letters?

If you do not hear from us again, the Doorkeeper is hereby entrusted with the
duty of maintaining what order we have generally maintained. I am probably being
paranoid, but better safe etcetera. Love, Herself."

Wed, 17 Aug, 1994

A piece of stationery with an F monogram is tacked to the board.

My every attempt to communicate privately with the Goddess has been blocked.
Joao is constantly by her side day and night. I must speak to her. She doesn't
realize what has been going on with the Keeper and her dreams. I can still see
her haunted face across the dinner table. It has been several days and she
still hasn't returned and Jordan let it slip: someone has ridden off to
'intercept' her. And I've misplaced the note she slipped me before she
disappeared. What did she mean by Autumn sheets, dry slowly?

I can't find the Head Hacker either. I tried to retrace my steps in the jungle
and I have heard the guitar playing but I can't find them.

I believe they are trying to keep us apart. I sound paranoid. Autumn sheets,
dry slowly.

The Keeper was wrong I am not unaffected. I've been fighting off the enticing
wilderness. Everywhere nature is working against me, tempting me to forget
civilization. Tempting me to stay, drawing me to disappear into its untamed
welcoming arms.

Autumn sheets, dry slowly.... fall linens, cure?

I must get away from this place.

Cardinal Fang

Fri, 19 Aug, 1994

A crisp sheet of the finest linen, though watermarked along the right margin,
slides through the mailslot....

Dear Friends --

All is well. Arrived back here yesterday morning. I knew this place was special
on the trip up to the hacienda. Close call in the afternoon, though. One of the
twins had followed me. I had just struggled to the upper plateau when a
commotion erupted by the pool below. That's when I saw Tweedle-dee... and
another, who I couldn't see, in brush. Heard what sounded like a BIG cat and T-
dee exited, stage left.

Fell asleep last night counting stars -- I'd never seen so many! One of those
luxurious nights you never forget. Slept peacefully, for the first time in what
seems like weeks. I know I still dreamed but not the anxious visions I'd had Up
There.

Strange how safe it feels here, as if protecting spirits are all around. Can
almost feel them watching over me. Found a single set of footprints by the
stream earlier; will investigate this afternoon.

Painted lady, it's actually a native tattoo friends, stopped shortly after sun
up to fill her canteen with the sweet water. Also with her was a man who was
certainly over sixty but had the laughter of youth in his eyes. He carried a
golf club, so it must have been to him the Titlest box was bound. Lady explained
they were cataloging the flora & fauna, or some such, and promptly disappeared
up a tree! He had a sketchbook of his own and we spent an hour going over our
meager attempts to capture the essence of this beautiful place. He seemed quite
interested in the renderings of my vision. Odd, though he denied it, there was
recognition in his eyes. He took a few strokes off the precipice, said "Don't
lose your head" with a twinkle in his eye, and strode off in the general
direction of the painted lady.

Don't lose your head? Whatever did he mean by that?

Later....

About two miles upstream now. Located the source of the footsteps I found
earlier, and the face that has haunted my dreams. Lady said to leave my pages
here, under this flat rock so one of her party can take them downriver. No time
to write more now, much as I'd like to. He beckons me and I must follow. I feel
answers are near....

Peace.

--Keeper of the Flame

P.S. Hope my riddle was clear enough for her Grace to decipher and follow me
here.

[no date given]

A strawberry blond parks a motorbike outside the hall and comes inside to tack a
letter on the main bulletin board. "Dear Minions,

This will probably be the last you ever hear of us, so listen well. The bearer
of this message, if he reaches you, is to be rewarded from the General Fund for
his bravery; dig deep, my friends, and remember our last hours.

Having noticed that Joao always disappears between six and nine, I slipped my
leash early this morning and crept down the lawn to the soccer field, determined
to catch the mysterious players in the act. I hid in a shed, intending to wait
for them to appear; but my recent illness and the hour must have weakened me,
for I fell asleep, waking some time later to the sound of voices -- voices I
knew well.

I opened the door of the shed a crack so that I could look out upon the soccer
field. And there I saw Joao, pouring out an impassioned stream of Portugese upon
the referee, who was holding up a red card. "Blind, you're completely blind!"

The referee listened until Joao flopped dramatically to the ground, and said, in
a very odd accent, "That's as may be, but the card's still red. Get off, you
haggis."

Joao picked himself up with a sigh and headed for the bench -- not looking *too*
unhappy, actually. The referee was smiling as well as he reached for his whistle
to restart the game.

And *that's* when I noticed the rest of the players. I almost fell out of the
shed. Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, and mustn't forget the goalkeepers;
every single man on the soccer team had the very same face. Half wore black tank
tops, half white, but there was no mistaking what I was seeing. More than two
dozen identical children? I don't think so, Master Vitor...

They really were quite good, one had to grant them that; once over the initial
stunning shock I began to understand what the woman in the airport had meant by
"but we're working on that for next time, of course." If it hadn't been so
strange, it would have been quite a pleasant experience, to watch so many
marvelous creatures playing in the sun --

At halftime they sat on the grass, laughing and passing the water bottles. They
were of slightly different ages; mostly quite young, but the Head Hacker's Adao
had been watching from the benches. Now he rose, and looked toward my shed.

"You can come out," he said. "This is what you were meant to see, after all."
Reluctantly I stepped out of the shed. "We're not going to hurt you," he
continued. "After all: who could you tell?"

I do not know what they intend to do with us now. As Adao says, to let us go
would do them little harm, for the truth is so ridiculous; but I'm not sure
they're finished with us yet. The referee, for example: he is not one of them,
yet why did he haunt the Keeper's dreams? (For it is he; I went to the Keeper's
rooms last night in search of her, and the completed portrait sat abandoned upon
her easel.)

Joao and his agemates Jeremias and Joaquim escorted me back to the house.
Cardinal Fang turned white when she saw the three of them together; I think I
understand now why she has been so skittish. If one of them has been
representing himself to her as Joao...

Horrible thought, that. I thought I saw two Joaos when I was ill; how do *I*
know that it was always the same one when I was well?

Strangely, they have set no guard upon us. This may be simply that there is
nowhere to run to, although the Keeper seems to have managed to escape. However,
I do not think that they are watching Jordan the stableboy; when I lay this pen
down for the last time I will go and bid him flee with my letter.

I must close now, for we have been told that the Master and Mistress will be
coming to explain to us at the end of this day and I must get to the stables and
back before they arrive. If we do not see you again: be well."

_______________________________

SYNTHESIS

[a hale and hearty Goddess arrives at the door of the hall in a limousine.]

... Fine, fine, oh, yes, my, how you've grown. The flight? Oh, well, VARIG is
VARIG, I suppose. My keys? Thank you.

No, I don't think that would be a good idea. In fact, we made it all up. Just
our little joke, ha ha. We spent the whole time in Rio at the Carmen Miranda
museum. A tall-dark-and-handsome farm in the Amazon? All right, so we've been
reading too much again.

(Just a minute, I'll be right out.)

What do you mean, why a limousine, then? We're entitled.

Listen, if you really want to hear about what happened after that, ask Helva.
She's transcribing our travel journals for the archives. That is, if anything
more *had* happened, which it didn't. You understand, I'm sure.

Souvenirs...? I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about.

Just a moment -- (*What*?)

I have to go, they're reminding me the limo charges by the hour and we've got a
few stops to make. We'll all be back at work Monday, yes, of course. You've a
lot to account for, after all; can't we go away for a few weeks without coming
back to a sinkful of dishes and the pack of you sitting around in your underwear
watching *Sesame Street*? Honestly --

(Coming!)

...What do you mean, whose voices are those in the limo?

(*Slam*)

The limo departs, revealing a glimpse of the Keeper and a *lovely* specimen of
manhood as they disappear around the fountain. Your eye is caught by a flash of
copper as it gracefully arcs through the air and sinks below the surface.
_______________________________

[Our intrepid crew have also been flashing their travel diaries about since
their return. HELVA PETERS {71321,502} is now taking names for admission to the
Reading Room.]

["Head Hacker's Memoirs" sections provided by Lynn Fernandez.]

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And now a field report from LINDA WALTON:

News of the Highlander weird

As God/Odin/Hern/Yahwe/Allah etc is my witness: Last night some of my female
packmates [who felt that I had been stressed out lately] drug me out to one of
our local nightclubs to see a male stripshow and plied me [and themselves] with
large quantities of Long Island Iced Tea. It was pretty standard fare -- long
haired young men making an attempt at dancing to loud disco-ech music while
being hooted at by repressed housewives -- amusing but I've got better at
home... UNTIL the 4th dancer is announced "Born in the Highlands of Scotland 400
years ago"... :O do you have any concept of how much pain Long Island Iced Tea
causes when you snoogie it? Out steps this completely dreamy 20 year old marvel
of modern gym technology wearing a long duster and a grey fedora -- whips out a
sword does a few Katas then proceeds to take it off rather lasciviously to the
strains of "You Can Leave Your Hat On". Unlike his fellows this youngster could
really move -- picked my jaw up from off the table stopped caring about
copyright infringement and started drooling in earnest![Jonathan Who???] To
heck with SMC! I'm shallow... shallow... SHALLOW!!! Especially when they have
almost waist length black hair, ice blue eyes chiseled jaw etc... He ended the
dance wearing a blackwatch tartan g-string and thigh high boots. Yowsa!

Just thought I'd leave you with that image... WOOF

[From the Editor's comment: "I suppose this means we have Made It. Made It to
where..."]

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VELIA TANNER on the Internet kindly sends us her latest information regarding
the third season:

Week Of Prod# Title

09/26/94 94301 THE SAMURAI

10/03/94 94302 LINE OF FIRE

10/10/94 94303 THE REVOLUTIONARY

10/17/94 94304 THE CROSS OF ST. ANTOINE

10/24/94 94305 RITE OF PASSAGE

Highlander director Mario Azzopardi [RITE OF PASSAGE], however, reports that the
last two may in fact air in reverse order.

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THE UNCLASSIFIED ADS

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

The official release date for HIGHLANDER III: THE SORCEROR is now December
second, 1994 -- unless, of course, they change it *again*...

KPHO TV 5 Phoenix will be switching its HIGHLANDER airtime to 10:30 pm
Saturdays, with a repeat showing at 2:30 am the following Saturday morning.
(Thanks to SysOp Lee Whiteside.)

In this library [SF & Fantasy #12, HIGHLANDER] -- COYOTE.GIF: The lovely Virtual
Statuette figuratively awarded to winners of the Immie Awards. Thanks to Felipe
Garcia for his assistance in scanning the piece.

In this library -- BYRNES.TXT: transcript of a radio interview with Jim Byrnes
(HIGHLANDER'S "Joe Dawson")

In this library -- SCHEAD.GIF, THEKUR.GIF, RUSNAS.GIF, POSTER.GIF, IMFAZI.GIF,
BWKURG.GIF, MONTAG.GIF, ILLUST.GIF, and CANDH.GIF: Assorted stills from the film
in Graphics Import Format, with thanks to Carl [100072,2653]

In this library -- CN731A.TXT and CN731E.TXT-- Transcript of a Month's End
Gathering. Topic: mentoring relationships among immortals.

In this library -- MA0809.TXT: Transcript of a conference with HIGHLANDER
director Mario Azzopardi.

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FINE PRINT

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THE PRIZE is a house organ of the Watchers Of CIS. We are not funded by anybody
or sanctioned by anybody. If we get in trouble, I'm changing my name and moving
to Minas Gerais.

The Watchers of CIS are a floating pool of HIGHLANDER fans on the Compuserve
Information Service. We make no claims to official status or knowledge, but we
know what we like.

We hereby absolve Compuserve Information Services of all blame for the content
of this newsletter.

THE PRIZE may be freely distributed in hardcopy form ONLY across the seven seas
of space so long as no alterations are made to the text thereof, save any
required translations into languages other than the original American English.
Any violations of this caveat will result in the wrath of the Goddess and more
importantly the wrath of CIS, so please don't spoil our fun.

The Watchers of CIS exist on the Compuserve Information Service. For info on the
network and the SF Forum (where the HIGHLANDER message-board section is), call
1-800-848-8990 and ask for representative 186.

THE PRIZE 1994 is a production of Woodhull & Desmoulins Press.

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Here are the addresses that will accept mail for the series:

Rysher TPE, 3400 Riverside Drive, Suite 600, Burbank, CA 91505
Please write Keith Samples at this address to express your support for the show.

SSA Public Relations, 15060 Ventura Blvd., Suite 360, Sherman Oaks, CA 91403
This is the address for fan mail to the actors.

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This issue's contributors:

MARYANN MCKINNON -- [email protected]
HELVA PETERS -- 71321,502
SHERI RICHARDSON -- 70703,2746
LYNN FERNANDEZ -- 74473,2063
LINDA WALTON -- 74452,2455

A CAST OF THOUSANDS -- [email protected]

and myself, the eternal Goddess Samantha.

E-Mail - 73524.43@compuserve.com
Snailmail - c/o Judy Kunz, Kibby Labs, 25235 Dequindre, Madison Heights, MI
48071

Computers by Apple Computer
Continuity checking by Leader Dogs for the Blind
For Entertainment Purposes Only

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HIGHLANDER, for those of you just tuning in (the rest of you could skip this
bit), is a television series based somewhat loosely upon a film of the same
name, concerning a man from 1500's Scotland who discovers that he is immortal,
and cannot die. There are others like him, he finds, and they are engaged in a
fight to the last immortal, for the power of the Prize. In the end, there can
be only one.
The movie and the series diverge at this point: in the film, our man is Connor
MacLeod (Christopher Lambert), and he lives at the time of the last days, the
Gathering, when all the remaining immortals are coming together for the fight to
the death.
In the series, however, our immortal hero is Duncan MacLeod (Adrian Paul)--
"Same clan, different vintage" -- and the Gathering is not yet at hand. Duncan's
task is to keep his head from week to week.
For that is the only way to slay an immortal. From any wound but one, even unto
death, they will recover -- but "if your head comes away from your neck, it's
over." So says Connor's immortal mentor, Ramirez (Sean Connery).

-- THE PRIZE, Issue #1

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WATCH YOUR HEAD

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