Webmaster and Editor-in-Chief
Mail reviews to: smithr@math.mcmaster.ca
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Stacey Smith? Webmaster and Editor-in-Chief Mail reviews to: smithr@math.mcmaster.ca |
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Stacey Smith?'s day begins when she puts on her Doctor Who underpants and drives to work a perfect replica of the Whomobile (although she still can't get it to wobble unconvincingly when it flies). She's stationed a police box in the corner of her office, just so she can pretend to be working on the dematerialisation circuit whenever passers by wander in.
She has a white hatstand by the door with a small battery pack at the base. When she's feeling bored, she'll occasionally buzz the cleaning lady with it while dressed in a school uniform. She's also decorated her office to look like a spaceship -- only it's the spaceship from Invasion of the Dinosaurs, so she can get that special feeling when she walks outside into the real world, secretly knowing that Operation Golden Age could be almost upon us.
She's restructured her computer so that it hums Wagner and displays a funky wobbly line that quivers when it speaks to him, but she got the booming voice down just right and whenever she disagrees with it, it laughs and says "Stevens, you are a sentimentalist!" For recreation she listens to jazz and Doctor Who CD's on a simple eighties stereo... incorporated with a holographic display showing the positions of Cyberfleets. Whenever he answers the phone she always does so by saying: "Kandyman!"
When she uses the shredder, she likes to pretend that the paper going into it will serve a greater purpose in the glorious gardens of Chase Manor. Occasionally she'll shred a black leather glove when no one's around, just so she can pretend to grasp it as it tragically slides away. When the pigeons come by her window she orders her secretary in and hands her the rubber bands, saying: "Miss Johnston. Chaps with wings -- five rounds rapid."
She likes to spend her lunch hour asleep in a full size replica of the Hand of Omega coffin. For afternoon snacks she'll alternate between jelly babies and Sil's marshminnows. As the clock drags its way to 5:00, she'll usually try to stay awake and interview clients while wearing the clockwork orange thingy from the telemovie. It's surprisingly comfortable.
Only in the evenings, when she gets home to her apartment (decorated to look like a police box on the front door, but a grandiose white control room, with paper plates stuck to the walls inside) does she allow her obsession to really flourish.