Cynthia Norris sat in her cubicle, checking her email for what seemed like 50th time that day. Actually, it was more like that night. She looked over at the red led clock beside her PC, "11:04 p.m." Could it really be that late? She thought, it was only 8:22 p.m. a few minutes ago. Time always seemed to fly when she worked.
What had she done since the last time she looked at the clock? She tried to think. "Two project plans and three emails." She thought out loud. Yes, there had been over 2 and a half-hours work since then.
She leaned back in her chair, and laced her hands behind her head. A yawn escaped her before she even realized it. It was definitely time to call it a night.
This project would further automate the pharmaceutical plants she was responsible for. She knew it would automate part of the quality control system by randomly selecting quantities of the product and doing the test with a computer chemical analyzer. She knew that it would probably put about 50 chemists and shift workers out of a job, but it was promised to save the company over ten million a year. For that, she received a fat bonus.
She was thinking about her upcoming vacation to Italy. She was daydreaming about strolling along the Arno River. Then she thought of writing a cute little email to her fiancée.
She began to type "Dear Philip, this has been a tough project and I know we haven’t been able to see much of each other. I’m really sorry. I can’t wait to go—"
A loud ring from her desk phone brought her out of here reverie. The Caller ID on the phone read "0000- XXXXX" with no name.
"All zeros?" She thought out loud. She thought that all zeros must be the front desk operator, or at this time of night it was a front desk security guard.
"Norris here." She answered with her usual cool business voice.
Silence.
Must be either a wrong number or a glitch in the phone system.
She sighed and rubbed her eyes. Some coffee would be good before the drive home. She got up from her seat and stretched. She started to walk toward the coffee machine when her phone started to ring again. She glanced down at the display again.
"0000-XXXXX"
This time she just pushed the speakerphone button.
"Norris." She breathed.
She was answered by some low-pitched electronic tones.
She pushed the speakerphone button again, hanging up the phone and started on her way toward the coffee machine.
As she walked it seemed like the phones in each of the cubes she came to rang and stopped ringing as she passed.
"Hello?" She called out to the empty office. "Is there anyone here?"
Silence.
She shrugged and made her way in to the break room.
As she walked into the hall she gazed out the window and saw the first tell –tale signs of and approaching thunderstorm. She saw lightening strikes in the distance and a slight rumble.
She inserted a quarter and a dime into the coffee machine. A cup dropped down into the vend area, and faithfully filled with hot coffee.
From behind her she heard a scraping/grinding sound.
She spun and saw the door on the coffee supply closet shaking slightly.
Then there was a strange "turning" sound.
"Hello?" she choked. The sound of her voice sounded feeble.
She slowly approached the closet. The door was knocking and the scraping sound started again. In a rush she raced to it and flung it open.
In a startled shock, a pile of white Styrofoam cups fell as a mass of flailing black fur and claws came flying out with a shriek.
She jumped back three paces as the office cat, Samantha, came skittering across the floor.
]
The cat had been "hired" to handle the mouse problem they had incurred and done a good job of it. Someone had probably opened the supply cabinet door, the cat ran in without him or her noticing, and they closed it again.
Samantha crouched in a corner, and stared at Cynthia, her tail twitching.
Poor thing was probably scared. Cynthia went to the refrigerator, retrieved the carton of milk people used for coffee, sniffed it and added a splash to her coffee. Thinking better of it, she filled a small Styrofoam thimble with milk and put it on the floor near Samantha.
The cat inched forward and sniffed at the milk tentatively. She began to lap at it, all the while not taking her keen eyes off of Cynthia.
Cynthia took her coffee, and went back to her desk. A ringing phone greeted her. This time without looking at the ID she picked it up and put it to her ear. She didn’t say anything, expecting the computer tones again.
She almost replaced the receiver when a voice bellowed, "Hello Cynthia!" The voice was deep and slightly electronic, it reminded her of the Master Control Program from TRON.
"Who is this?" This time she glanced down at the caller ID. It read "666- Diavolo."
"This is your Master, Cynthia. I wanted to thank you for all the souls you have sent me." The voice bellowed an insidious laugh.
She adopted a ‘very funny’ tone, "OK, I know you IT guys are bored down in the telephone data center, but quit this shit now."
"Ah, Cynthia, if you only knew. How many valuable employees have you put out of work in your career? Do you even know?" The voice was gloomily jubilant.
"Look, I don’t know who you are, or what your trying to do but—" she is cut off.
"Cynthia, innocence through ignorance is one thing. It is a taste I have enjoyed through the ages. " The voice no longer seems to be coming from the phone now but from all around. "But your innocence is tainted in a way that is unique to this century… I must taste your soul."
Cynthia’s heart was pounding now. She reached for the phone receiver to call security. If this was a joke it had gone far enough. She went to dial the number and discovered the entire keypad and much of the phone was melted.
She swallowed hard a taste like swallowing a penny. It was adrenaline, and right now she felt like she could jump out of her skin. She jumped up from her seat and ran to use the phone in the next cubicle.
The keypad was also molten. So were all of them.
"I must be crazy!" She thought aloud. She had her hands over her ears interlaced in her hair.
The voice bellowed. "How many people have you put out of work in the name of PROGRESS!? Do you know!? A hundred!? A Thousand!? How many of them killed themselves!? Do you know how many of their souls I have feasted on!?"
A deep, sickening, macabre, laugh rumbled the floor beneath her.
She ran to the elevator and pushed the down button furiously. Seconds ticked. They seemed like years.
The voice continued, "…your soul must taste unique! It is flavored by indirect, ignorant sins! I must taste it!!"
With agonizing slowness, the doors parted and admitted her into the waiting elevator car. She ran in, her side slamming against the veneer wall. She pounded the "door close" button and then P4 where her car was parked, four levels above the lobby. The doors slapped shut.
"Where did you think you could run!?" The voice boomed.
It suddenly became very cold in the elevator. Cynthia folded her arms about herself. She could see her own breath. She shivered. The elevator began to descend rapidly. The lights in the elevator car flickered. Cynthia closed her eyes and squeezed out hot tears.
She opened her eyes again and saw the lights blinking on and off. In one of the flashes on she saw a figure in the car next to her. The figure was not standing, but hanging. It was a man in a hard hat and safety glasses. She recognized his uniform as the same worn by the shift workers in the Chemical Plants she automated last year. He was hanging by noose made by a computer cable. His face was pallid and white and his eyes open seemed to stare at her…no…through her.
Then the lights went out again. The elevator rocked back and forth. She heard the hanging body hit the wall. Then the lights came on again and a different figure was in the car with her. She recognized him as the plant Q/A supervisor. He wore a sour expression on a bloodless face. He offered his wrists to her, revealing the "T" shaped slash wounds. Blood was spurting out of them in puddles. The figure let out a moan.
Cynthia tried to scream. All that came out now was a hoarse wail.
The lights flashed out again. This time when they came back on, it wasn’t a wretched suicide victim, it was an imposing dark figure. This figure had glowing, red eyes, black lips, a set of wickedly misshapen teeth and two black ram’s horns protruding from its forehead.
It moved closer and opened it’s mouth. She could feel it’s hot breath in the numbing cold. It’s breath stank like burning sulfur and it’s presence was palpable.
"I WILL TASTE YOU." It whispered, and smiled. A cold wet tongue protruded and licked her cheek.
The lights went out again. Cynthia prayed for a quick and painless death. Anything, rather than to face that creature again. She could still feel and smell its breath.
The lights came on. This time she was alone, and the doors opened to reveal a nearly empty parking garage level.
Cynthia was shaking now. The summer air in the parking lot felt warm and inviting against her skin compared to the freezing cold of the elevator. She peered out of the door and found the floor was as deserted as it looked.
She ran out of the elevator car and made a mad dash for her car. The lot was nearly empty and she had little trouble finding it.
"Oh shit," she thought, "my purse is upstairs."
Then she realized she needed her key to go to the break room. Her hands fell to her pants pockets. Her keys were blessedly in her right front pocket. She retrieved the small ring of keys on the Mustang key fob. With her hands shaking she managed to find the right key and open the car door.
Cynthia felt her stomach rise into her mouth as with a wail her car’s alarm went off. She had to swallow hard to keep from retching. She fumbled with her keys once more and located the remote alarm switch. With a chirp, the siren stopped.
She used the door for balance and fell into the driver’s seat. With a vital need to feel secure she swung her legs in and slammed the door home. Reaching out with her left fingernail, missing the button twice, she pushed the auto door lock.
She closed her eyes for a second and breathed. She felt her heart pounding.
With a familiarity with every cheap horror movie she had ever seen, she was sure the dark creature was in the back seat. She could still smell its hot stinking breath and still feel its wet slimy tongue on her cheek.
She looked in her rear view mirror and saw a flash of something red. She spun around in her seat to see…nothing but the red scarf she had worn the day before and casually threw on the back dashboard. Reaching out with her left hand she snatched it off the back dash and threw it to the floor by the back seats.
She straightened in the driver’s seat and saw the dark figure looming in front of the car.
"Damn it, enough!" She said. She slapped the key into the ignition. The V8 started with a roar as she gunned the gas. . This thing had scared the daylights out of her, and she had just reached her breaking point.
Depressing the clutch she jammed the car into first. She felt in control now. She narrowed her eyes and aimed for the figure. She slammed down savagely on the gas and snapped her foot off of the clutch.
With a howl of rubber on tarmac the Mustang’s tires spun and smoked. With the fury and raw power of one of Ford’s strongest engines, the car barreled forward.
The car’s speedometer read 50 MPH when it passed harmlessly through the figure. The speedometer read 70 MPH as it struck and passed through the guardrails. As the Mustang became a thing of the air, flipping completely over once, before striking the asphalt of Broad Street and bursting into flames.
"…Must’ve been suicide." The garage attendant told the investigators. The security video footage showed a very distraught Cynthia Norris, getting into her car by herself, accidentally setting off of the alarm, resetting it, and driving like "a bat out of hell" directly for the nearest guard rail and over.
Her company was very upset at her loss, but was grateful for all the work she had done on the automation project and are implementing her plans. However, the company’s internal communications department was very upset at what the thunder and lightening had done to some of the desk telephones.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Success Stories
My daughter, Aimee, is autistic. She didn’t talk and would not give me any eye contact. I had traveled to visit my mother, and before I left, I had purchased pull-ups for nighttime, but I forgot to bring them.
It was evening and Aimee had some orange juice. She gave me the sign language for more. I then said (more or less to myself rather than her), "Oh, I forgot the pull-ups. I’m afraid if you have too much to drink you’ll wet the bed. I should’ve brought them." She continued to sign "more." I continued to mutter. Finally, she looked me in the eyes, and fervently said, "I," pointing to herself, "want more," giving sign for more, "or-ange juice, please." Needless to say she got her juice! - L.T., Hamilton, NJ
I am not a parent, but a proud older sister of a 15-year-old brother who is blind and autistic. As a child, Meir would constantly get upset when something would bother him. Getting upset included screaming uncontrollably and getting completely out of hand. With the loving and constant guidance of my parents, Meir (even though he has a long way to go), expresses himself way better than before. - S.S., Brooklyn, NY
My youngest son, Brayden, was born three months premature with heart and brain defects. He is now 4 ½ years old. He is multi-handicapable. When he was young, the doctors told us he probably wouldn't survive, much less ever sit, walk, talk, or eat. He began eating orally a year and a half ago. He began talking one year ago, and is now nearly age appropriate in expressive communication! The most exciting accomplishment, however, is his walking. He had a bilateral tendon release on his hamstrings and gastrocs last November. Since recovering from the surgery, he began pulling to stand, cruising furniture, and could take up to 6 independent steps, even without his walker! Only other parents of children with special needs can understand the intense emotion that surrounds such feats!
Now, he is walking around the house with little assistance and now able to squat to pick something up and stand up again without help!! I cannot wait for the day that he can walk up to those nay-saying doctors and show them who is really in charge!! - J.B., Bartlesville, OK
My almost 7-year-old is only about 4 months in her development and very tiny (the size of a 15-month-old). She has never done anything "age appropriate" til now... she just lost her first tooth and has 3 more loose ones, just like a "normal" 6-year-old. It's funny to see my family so excited about something so small to most people. - J.J., Denton, MD
I would like to share with you my story of my son. "S" was born at 26 weeks gestation weighing 880 grams (1 lb. 15 oz). After 81 days in the NICU and a typical course of being a preemie with all of their complications, he came home weighing 4 lbs. 3 oz. Such a joy! He received early intervention services for a time, but was discharged after about a year because he was hitting his developmental milestones and seemed to be on track.
When he was 18 months old, we were in a car wreck which left him a low-level quadriplegic. After five months of the ICU, rehab, and another stay in the ICU, he came home. Such a joy! He again received early intervention services under a new diagnosis and later was transitioned into the school system for services. He has since had multiple hospitalizations for pneumonia, seizures, and surgeries (the most recent being anterior and posterior spinal fusion).
"S" is now 13 years old and a Boy Scout Second Class. Two weeks ago he was inducted into the National Junior Honor Society - SUCH A JOY! I am very proud of my son! - A.S., Fredericksburg, VA
My son, Christian, was born with a genetic anomoly (2p+) and has since been diagnosed with autism. My wife and I went through the typical grieving and realignment of our own expectations through his younger years. Through all of the doctors, teachers and therapists, we have asked for just one blessing for our family: We prayed that he would be able to communicate with us.
We moved to Houston a couple of years ago and enrolled him in the school program. He has a teacher that loves him dearly and several assistants that take exceptional care of him. His language skills had blossomed from a single word to several one-word responses in a short period of time. One weekend, my wife had left town to attend a family wedding, and I had stayed behind with Christian and his brother, Noah. We went to a local amusement restaurant, since they enjoy playing the games and watching the activities. That evening, as we drove home from the restaurant, Christian began speaking in whole sentences and just "talked my leg off" the entire way home. We joked and he told me all about his evening. Christian's language explosion has continued for several months and has even expanded. He is able to communicate all of his wants and needs and is able to respond to many questions from his parents and teachers.
His language skills are not 100% and they probably never will be, but we could not ask for more than we have already received. Our son can now talk with us and we are grateful. - J.H., Houston, TX
I have so many success stories with my 15-year-old non-verbal autistic son. Communication breakthroughs are my favorites. My favorite moment was when I truly realized that there is a real normal boy inside my son that just can't get out in the typical ways. I had been trying to teach my son how to nod his head yes. He could say the word, "no," but he had no way to indicate the word "yes." So, when he was 13 years old, I decided to work hard on teaching him to nod. He would come home from school and we would work hard on nodding. One day, once again, I said to my son "Eric, nod your head yes," and he looked at me and struggled for a moment and very clearly said, "I can't." I wasn't sure I had heard right so I asked him to nod his head again and he said, "I can't." For two weeks, whenever I asked him to nod, he would say "I can't." I was so incredibly excited. He was right, he couldn't nod his head yes. So, I then taught him to say hmm-mmm for yes and he is able to do that. Now he can communicate yes!
One other moment that truly made me look at Eric different was at lunchtime one day. I was making him choose between lunch items and he was having a hard time. For 15 minutes we went back and forth on choosing. He kept changing his mind. Finally, out of exasperation, he yelled, "Make 'em both!!" My husband and I looked at each other and about died laughing. Guess what? He got both items for lunch!
This boy never ceases to amaze us. He is so intelligent, but he just can't get it out so the world can see. We see, however, and we thank God every day for blessing us with a very special child. - L.P., Kennesaw, GA
They say God only gives special kids to special people, and I really didn't think I was that special to get two of them! But my boys compliment each other well! Matthew keeps Justin physically active and mentally stimulated, and Justin aides Matthew's social abilities and really brings out his personality. They greet each other after school with big hugs - they are brothers AND best friends!!
My oldest son, Justin, is 5 ½ years old and has Down syndrome. He is in a Life Skills class this year, but after Christmas break he started integrating into regular kindergarten class for social times (centers, library, music, recess, etc.). This has helped both his speech and socialization. We just had his end of year ARD and I am very proud of several points. 1) He is scoring, on average, approximately a 4-year-old level academically. 2) He will remain in Life Skills as core class, but has been moved up to FIRST GRADE for inclusion opportunities. 3) Testing done indicated Justin scored 109 in SOCIAL SKILLS (normal range is 90 to 100). He is my social butterfly and everyone instantly falls in love with him. It is nice when I pick him up from school and several other kids from different classes run up to tell Justin "BYE." Everywhere we go, I see kids tapping there mom saying, "Momma, Momma - that's Justin!" He makes me very proud!
Outside of school, we are involved in Special Olympics. He has recently taken pictures on a police motorcycle to be used for fund-raising and at a law enforcement recruitment for personnel to participate in the annual "Torch Run." The Torch Run is law enforcement’s effort to support Special Olympics both personally and financially.
Justin and Matthew have learned to swim without any "floatie" assistance! They are even diving in the shallow end of the pool picking up objects off the bottom, and swimming greater distances underwater. They go swimming at least 2 or 3 times a day!
It was evening and Aimee had some orange juice. She gave me the sign language for more. I then said (more or less to myself rather than her), "Oh, I forgot the pull-ups. I’m afraid if you have too much to drink you’ll wet the bed. I should’ve brought them." She continued to sign "more." I continued to mutter. Finally, she looked me in the eyes, and fervently said, "I," pointing to herself, "want more," giving sign for more, "or-ange juice, please." Needless to say she got her juice! - L.T., Hamilton, NJ
I am not a parent, but a proud older sister of a 15-year-old brother who is blind and autistic. As a child, Meir would constantly get upset when something would bother him. Getting upset included screaming uncontrollably and getting completely out of hand. With the loving and constant guidance of my parents, Meir (even though he has a long way to go), expresses himself way better than before. - S.S., Brooklyn, NY
My youngest son, Brayden, was born three months premature with heart and brain defects. He is now 4 ½ years old. He is multi-handicapable. When he was young, the doctors told us he probably wouldn't survive, much less ever sit, walk, talk, or eat. He began eating orally a year and a half ago. He began talking one year ago, and is now nearly age appropriate in expressive communication! The most exciting accomplishment, however, is his walking. He had a bilateral tendon release on his hamstrings and gastrocs last November. Since recovering from the surgery, he began pulling to stand, cruising furniture, and could take up to 6 independent steps, even without his walker! Only other parents of children with special needs can understand the intense emotion that surrounds such feats!
Now, he is walking around the house with little assistance and now able to squat to pick something up and stand up again without help!! I cannot wait for the day that he can walk up to those nay-saying doctors and show them who is really in charge!! - J.B., Bartlesville, OK
My almost 7-year-old is only about 4 months in her development and very tiny (the size of a 15-month-old). She has never done anything "age appropriate" til now... she just lost her first tooth and has 3 more loose ones, just like a "normal" 6-year-old. It's funny to see my family so excited about something so small to most people. - J.J., Denton, MD
I would like to share with you my story of my son. "S" was born at 26 weeks gestation weighing 880 grams (1 lb. 15 oz). After 81 days in the NICU and a typical course of being a preemie with all of their complications, he came home weighing 4 lbs. 3 oz. Such a joy! He received early intervention services for a time, but was discharged after about a year because he was hitting his developmental milestones and seemed to be on track.
When he was 18 months old, we were in a car wreck which left him a low-level quadriplegic. After five months of the ICU, rehab, and another stay in the ICU, he came home. Such a joy! He again received early intervention services under a new diagnosis and later was transitioned into the school system for services. He has since had multiple hospitalizations for pneumonia, seizures, and surgeries (the most recent being anterior and posterior spinal fusion).
"S" is now 13 years old and a Boy Scout Second Class. Two weeks ago he was inducted into the National Junior Honor Society - SUCH A JOY! I am very proud of my son! - A.S., Fredericksburg, VA
My son, Christian, was born with a genetic anomoly (2p+) and has since been diagnosed with autism. My wife and I went through the typical grieving and realignment of our own expectations through his younger years. Through all of the doctors, teachers and therapists, we have asked for just one blessing for our family: We prayed that he would be able to communicate with us.
We moved to Houston a couple of years ago and enrolled him in the school program. He has a teacher that loves him dearly and several assistants that take exceptional care of him. His language skills had blossomed from a single word to several one-word responses in a short period of time. One weekend, my wife had left town to attend a family wedding, and I had stayed behind with Christian and his brother, Noah. We went to a local amusement restaurant, since they enjoy playing the games and watching the activities. That evening, as we drove home from the restaurant, Christian began speaking in whole sentences and just "talked my leg off" the entire way home. We joked and he told me all about his evening. Christian's language explosion has continued for several months and has even expanded. He is able to communicate all of his wants and needs and is able to respond to many questions from his parents and teachers.
His language skills are not 100% and they probably never will be, but we could not ask for more than we have already received. Our son can now talk with us and we are grateful. - J.H., Houston, TX
I have so many success stories with my 15-year-old non-verbal autistic son. Communication breakthroughs are my favorites. My favorite moment was when I truly realized that there is a real normal boy inside my son that just can't get out in the typical ways. I had been trying to teach my son how to nod his head yes. He could say the word, "no," but he had no way to indicate the word "yes." So, when he was 13 years old, I decided to work hard on teaching him to nod. He would come home from school and we would work hard on nodding. One day, once again, I said to my son "Eric, nod your head yes," and he looked at me and struggled for a moment and very clearly said, "I can't." I wasn't sure I had heard right so I asked him to nod his head again and he said, "I can't." For two weeks, whenever I asked him to nod, he would say "I can't." I was so incredibly excited. He was right, he couldn't nod his head yes. So, I then taught him to say hmm-mmm for yes and he is able to do that. Now he can communicate yes!
One other moment that truly made me look at Eric different was at lunchtime one day. I was making him choose between lunch items and he was having a hard time. For 15 minutes we went back and forth on choosing. He kept changing his mind. Finally, out of exasperation, he yelled, "Make 'em both!!" My husband and I looked at each other and about died laughing. Guess what? He got both items for lunch!
This boy never ceases to amaze us. He is so intelligent, but he just can't get it out so the world can see. We see, however, and we thank God every day for blessing us with a very special child. - L.P., Kennesaw, GA
They say God only gives special kids to special people, and I really didn't think I was that special to get two of them! But my boys compliment each other well! Matthew keeps Justin physically active and mentally stimulated, and Justin aides Matthew's social abilities and really brings out his personality. They greet each other after school with big hugs - they are brothers AND best friends!!
My oldest son, Justin, is 5 ½ years old and has Down syndrome. He is in a Life Skills class this year, but after Christmas break he started integrating into regular kindergarten class for social times (centers, library, music, recess, etc.). This has helped both his speech and socialization. We just had his end of year ARD and I am very proud of several points. 1) He is scoring, on average, approximately a 4-year-old level academically. 2) He will remain in Life Skills as core class, but has been moved up to FIRST GRADE for inclusion opportunities. 3) Testing done indicated Justin scored 109 in SOCIAL SKILLS (normal range is 90 to 100). He is my social butterfly and everyone instantly falls in love with him. It is nice when I pick him up from school and several other kids from different classes run up to tell Justin "BYE." Everywhere we go, I see kids tapping there mom saying, "Momma, Momma - that's Justin!" He makes me very proud!
Outside of school, we are involved in Special Olympics. He has recently taken pictures on a police motorcycle to be used for fund-raising and at a law enforcement recruitment for personnel to participate in the annual "Torch Run." The Torch Run is law enforcement’s effort to support Special Olympics both personally and financially.
Justin and Matthew have learned to swim without any "floatie" assistance! They are even diving in the shallow end of the pool picking up objects off the bottom, and swimming greater distances underwater. They go swimming at least 2 or 3 times a day!
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Horror Stories
When my son had his G-tube stoma re-positioned (the first one was so high that it rubbed against his ribs as the ribs grew, and took 2 years to "prove," by way of scar path), the GI doctor told me there was an outside chance that the second one might puncture the colon. It was an outside chance, but it was possible. He tried to reduce that possibility by having a surgeon perform the PEG (percutaneous endoscopic gastrostomy) procedure. All looked good.
A few weeks later, when the foley catheter (what they put in during the procedure and which stays in the stoma until it's healed well enough) was switched for a MicKey button, it was done simultaneously with a bilateral hip tenotomy, and my son was placed in a cast from the waist to the knees. That procedure was done on a Friday. Because he is medically fragile, he recovered in the PICU.
After a suitable amount of time, they started up the feeds, and my son had really odd diarrhea. It continued, and looked very much like the stuff we were pumping in. It was a big, nasty mess, getting well-integrated into the hip cast. The GI doctor wanted to rule out the "outside chance," and ordered a radiological exam. That was scheduled for Sunday. I went down with my son to radiology, and helped the radiologist (not a technician, but the real thing) perform the procedure. He was so swift, I hardly had the time to look at the image myself. He quickly said the second G-tube was fine.
We went back to PICU and continued to change his diapers every hour. After 3 more days, and a slew of antibiotics, with test results coming back "WNL" (within normal limits), the PICU doctor sent us home, assuming it was a nasty bug picked up from the hospital, from which he would recover best at home. We left continuing to change his diaper every hour.
Two weeks later, my son, having lost weight, was now listless and pale. The GI doctor, thoroughly confused, ordered a lower GI study. Fortunately, we were able to get the best pediatric GI radiologist (since retired, sadly) in the LA area. He found nothing wrong with the lower GI, so he checked the upper GI just in case. And lo and behold, there it was, clearly evident that the G-tube was misplaced. The error was corrected, my son "plumped back up," was less irritable overall, and was hospital-free for an amazing 2 years. The GI doctor apologized to me for the error, but I told him he was not to blame; it was the radiologist who ruled it out. - L.S., Altadena, CA
My "Horror Story" began when my daughter turned 3 and "graduated" from the ECI (Early Childhood Intervention) program in my little town and transitioned into the public school district. My daughter is and has been undiagnosed but is being labeled with cerebral palsy. Panic began after I was introduced to her teacher and the teacher told me that bottles were not allowed in her room. My daughter had low muscle tone in and around her mouth and was having a hard time transitioning to a training cup. I used the 2 months before school started to frantically work with her to get her off the bottle. I did not succeed. I told the diagnostician that I was sorry that I couldn't get her off the bottle, and she said it was no big deal. When I told her what the teacher told me, she said there was no such rule. Whew!
Next ordeal: My daughter spent one week in the hospital after a scary seizure that was prompted by a high fever. She stopped breathing, but my husband and I know CPR, thank God. She had many tests performed that week. I went to pick her up the first day she returned to school and found her parked in front of an open door (in January). She was soaked from her hips to her knees in her urine. I was highly upset. I made sure the teacher was aware and reported it to the Special Education department and the school's office. 2 weeks later, I was called at work and told that she fell out of her wheelchair (a child that cannot walk or move around on her own?). I rushed to school to find the sweet face of my little one bruised and swollen. Apparently, the teacher allowed another child to push her through the gravel playground. She was supposedly strapped in, but if she was, she wouldn't have fallen out. I had to take her to the hospital for an MRI and a check over. I had enough and reported the teacher to Child Protective Services. After an investigation was done, the teacher was not allowed to return to teaching (at least in our school district). That year was filled with non-stop frustration of "weird" incidences and off-the-wall statements from the teacher on how I should take care of my daughter. Being in a small town, I was unable to find a daycare that would take on a child with special needs, much less an individual that would be willing to care for her. The only comfort I had in leaving my daughter in the school was that my husband's cousin was one of the aides in the class and promised to watch over my little one when she could.
In the second year with the public school district, my daughter was bitten twice, and sent home repeatedly "sick," when she was not. I learned later that some kids were sent home "sick" due to the fact that if the aides or teacher called in sick, there was no one to cover. I met with the superintendent of the school regarding many issues that had been going on since my daughter had been enrolled, but that got me nowhere. I also talked to many other parents that had stories of their own. I then made the superintendent aware of problems I had heard about from the other parents. Reasons given were that the assistant superintendent was in the process of quitting and any follow-up and investigation had fallen through the cracks. Also, they said that the teacher did very well during her interview and was hired due to the fact that she had worked with children with special needs in a high school for 1 year.
In the third year with the same school district, I thought things were going to be better. The PPCD program had gone through 4 teachers within my daughter’s two years in that class. I was finally impressed with her new teacher, but one month later she quit and moved away.
Last year, her teacher was much nicer and experienced BUT my daughter didn't get to finish the year without having a bad accident. She was propped up against a bar in a big metal spaceship on the playground. She was not spotted (my daughter can bear weight on her legs but cannot stand on her own). She fell back and split her head open. This resulted in her getting 3 staples put in her head.
In closing, my daughter is now 6 years old. My daughter's experiences prompted for me to search for a new, safe learning environment. I loved the town I was living in but the Special Education department had too much to be desired. I just bought a home in a new town and am thrilled with her new class and teacher. She's already showing signs of improving and seems to love her new classmates. - L.E.B., Pflugerville, TX
My non-verbal son was bitten by a fellow first grade classmate as they were preparing to leave for the day. He was crying uncontrollably so they took him to the nurse. She called us to come get him, saying to my stepson something about this kind of child shouldn't be in school. Once I got there my son showed me clearly what had happened. We returned to the room where the incident occurred and he was able to indicate who bit him to the teacher and other classmates; even though that child had left for the day. The nurse had also indicated to me that he shouldn’t be in that school, because she couldn't understand him (something to that effect). This was all during the chaos of kids being called to the buses, etc., so I couldn't be sure of what was said. Because of this, I didn't report it. - S.C., Pittsburgh, PA
Here are several Horror Stories that come to mind:
1. At birth, as my ob-gyn doctor was finishing up my C-section, the neonatologist had examined our firstborn baby girl. Facing away from me, she put her arm around my husband to tell him of her findings. The single word "chromosome" floated across the room and struck my ear, at which point I went into shock and started screaming for my husband... (Our daughter has Down syndrome.). Then, my trusted ob-gyn muttered to the doctor next to him, "Oh, I had suspected that." (Without mentioning this to us? Huh?)
2. The home care physical therapist had us grasping our baby by the arms with her head flailing back unsupported, taking her from lying to sitting. Even my mother knew that looked WRONG and had us stop doing it soon after.
3. A pediatric psychologist examining our 5-year-old and concluding, "Just look at her... you can see the child inside her she would have been..." - Anonymous by request, San Diego, CA
I am a mother of two boys. One is listed ADD/hyper and dysthemic disorder. He is 16 years old. The other is a 19-year-old that is listed EMH at school, but on record ADD/hyper, dysthemic disorder and intermitted explosive disorder. The state found the school system guilty of not giving a free appropriate education, no transition plan, and no behavior plan. The whole IEP was not valid. I have literally stayed at the school just about every day because teachers would not do their job. I finally asked for a bed and a room to live in. With all the complaining from us and the state to do the IEP right and to get it in order, it was to no avail. Now, because of them not seeing that all the federal laws were handled the way they were suppose to be, there was legal action against my child.
All the advocacy group tells you to do is to write letters. Letters are good and keeping good records is important, but it does not make them do their job. They tell you they are no different from other children and that is how they are treated. If they had put in place the behavior plan, behavior specialist, and private tutoring or home bound as requested and had read the doctor reports, we would have not gone to court over assault on a government official. Had his one-on-one aide been there, this might not have happened.
When you are at a meeting at school and you want something done or request an evaluation, please write it down. If they tell you they are going to do something, document it on the IEP or on the back of the paper for the school. I have all my papers, and if they had done their IEP right, this would never have happened.
We have now finished with the courts. The free lawyer that the court appointed requested a forensic evaluation. He found that Jacob was indeed mentally retarded and mentally incompetent. At court, the D.A. still wanted to have the trial. So we went another week later for the competency hearing and the same day after that was suppose to be the trial if they found him mentally competent. The D.A. put the one-on-one aide on the stand and tried to prove that my son knew what he had done. He asked the normal questions, like how he was doing in school, if he was doing things like the other students and if he seemed normal to him. The aide answered yes to all. Our lawyer then asked what kind of a degree did he have in special education and he said a high school diploma. The lawyer also asked why he was working with him and he said just to help him out some. He also said that he did not need that much help but he was hired for the explosive disorder. My son has never been in trouble at school like this before.
The school and I went to the manifestation meeting and all that ever came out was that the resource officer was elbowed. Nothing else had been proven otherwise. From what I have put together, my son might have elbowed him to kid around with him. There are really no witnesses to the incident. The teacher’s statement that was taken proved that, but there was one teacher’s statement that makes me wonder if the officer had done something to provoke my son. The statement read: "Officer Johnson told my son to hit him again and then he placed him under arrest." Why would he tell my son to hit him again? I have asked for the SBI and the FBI and also the local police to investigate the officer, but they all have refused. It is bad enough to tell a "normal" person to hit you again, much less a mentally retarded student that has explosive disorder.
When one of my son’s special education teachers took the stand, he was also asked what kind of a degree he had in special education and he stated he had a masters degree in agriculture
A few weeks later, when the foley catheter (what they put in during the procedure and which stays in the stoma until it's healed well enough) was switched for a MicKey button, it was done simultaneously with a bilateral hip tenotomy, and my son was placed in a cast from the waist to the knees. That procedure was done on a Friday. Because he is medically fragile, he recovered in the PICU.
After a suitable amount of time, they started up the feeds, and my son had really odd diarrhea. It continued, and looked very much like the stuff we were pumping in. It was a big, nasty mess, getting well-integrated into the hip cast. The GI doctor wanted to rule out the "outside chance," and ordered a radiological exam. That was scheduled for Sunday. I went down with my son to radiology, and helped the radiologist (not a technician, but the real thing) perform the procedure. He was so swift, I hardly had the time to look at the image myself. He quickly said the second G-tube was fine.
We went back to PICU and continued to change his diapers every hour. After 3 more days, and a slew of antibiotics, with test results coming back "WNL" (within normal limits), the PICU doctor sent us home, assuming it was a nasty bug picked up from the hospital, from which he would recover best at home. We left continuing to change his diaper every hour.
Two weeks later, my son, having lost weight, was now listless and pale. The GI doctor, thoroughly confused, ordered a lower GI study. Fortunately, we were able to get the best pediatric GI radiologist (since retired, sadly) in the LA area. He found nothing wrong with the lower GI, so he checked the upper GI just in case. And lo and behold, there it was, clearly evident that the G-tube was misplaced. The error was corrected, my son "plumped back up," was less irritable overall, and was hospital-free for an amazing 2 years. The GI doctor apologized to me for the error, but I told him he was not to blame; it was the radiologist who ruled it out. - L.S., Altadena, CA
My "Horror Story" began when my daughter turned 3 and "graduated" from the ECI (Early Childhood Intervention) program in my little town and transitioned into the public school district. My daughter is and has been undiagnosed but is being labeled with cerebral palsy. Panic began after I was introduced to her teacher and the teacher told me that bottles were not allowed in her room. My daughter had low muscle tone in and around her mouth and was having a hard time transitioning to a training cup. I used the 2 months before school started to frantically work with her to get her off the bottle. I did not succeed. I told the diagnostician that I was sorry that I couldn't get her off the bottle, and she said it was no big deal. When I told her what the teacher told me, she said there was no such rule. Whew!
Next ordeal: My daughter spent one week in the hospital after a scary seizure that was prompted by a high fever. She stopped breathing, but my husband and I know CPR, thank God. She had many tests performed that week. I went to pick her up the first day she returned to school and found her parked in front of an open door (in January). She was soaked from her hips to her knees in her urine. I was highly upset. I made sure the teacher was aware and reported it to the Special Education department and the school's office. 2 weeks later, I was called at work and told that she fell out of her wheelchair (a child that cannot walk or move around on her own?). I rushed to school to find the sweet face of my little one bruised and swollen. Apparently, the teacher allowed another child to push her through the gravel playground. She was supposedly strapped in, but if she was, she wouldn't have fallen out. I had to take her to the hospital for an MRI and a check over. I had enough and reported the teacher to Child Protective Services. After an investigation was done, the teacher was not allowed to return to teaching (at least in our school district). That year was filled with non-stop frustration of "weird" incidences and off-the-wall statements from the teacher on how I should take care of my daughter. Being in a small town, I was unable to find a daycare that would take on a child with special needs, much less an individual that would be willing to care for her. The only comfort I had in leaving my daughter in the school was that my husband's cousin was one of the aides in the class and promised to watch over my little one when she could.
In the second year with the public school district, my daughter was bitten twice, and sent home repeatedly "sick," when she was not. I learned later that some kids were sent home "sick" due to the fact that if the aides or teacher called in sick, there was no one to cover. I met with the superintendent of the school regarding many issues that had been going on since my daughter had been enrolled, but that got me nowhere. I also talked to many other parents that had stories of their own. I then made the superintendent aware of problems I had heard about from the other parents. Reasons given were that the assistant superintendent was in the process of quitting and any follow-up and investigation had fallen through the cracks. Also, they said that the teacher did very well during her interview and was hired due to the fact that she had worked with children with special needs in a high school for 1 year.
In the third year with the same school district, I thought things were going to be better. The PPCD program had gone through 4 teachers within my daughter’s two years in that class. I was finally impressed with her new teacher, but one month later she quit and moved away.
Last year, her teacher was much nicer and experienced BUT my daughter didn't get to finish the year without having a bad accident. She was propped up against a bar in a big metal spaceship on the playground. She was not spotted (my daughter can bear weight on her legs but cannot stand on her own). She fell back and split her head open. This resulted in her getting 3 staples put in her head.
In closing, my daughter is now 6 years old. My daughter's experiences prompted for me to search for a new, safe learning environment. I loved the town I was living in but the Special Education department had too much to be desired. I just bought a home in a new town and am thrilled with her new class and teacher. She's already showing signs of improving and seems to love her new classmates. - L.E.B., Pflugerville, TX
My non-verbal son was bitten by a fellow first grade classmate as they were preparing to leave for the day. He was crying uncontrollably so they took him to the nurse. She called us to come get him, saying to my stepson something about this kind of child shouldn't be in school. Once I got there my son showed me clearly what had happened. We returned to the room where the incident occurred and he was able to indicate who bit him to the teacher and other classmates; even though that child had left for the day. The nurse had also indicated to me that he shouldn’t be in that school, because she couldn't understand him (something to that effect). This was all during the chaos of kids being called to the buses, etc., so I couldn't be sure of what was said. Because of this, I didn't report it. - S.C., Pittsburgh, PA
Here are several Horror Stories that come to mind:
1. At birth, as my ob-gyn doctor was finishing up my C-section, the neonatologist had examined our firstborn baby girl. Facing away from me, she put her arm around my husband to tell him of her findings. The single word "chromosome" floated across the room and struck my ear, at which point I went into shock and started screaming for my husband... (Our daughter has Down syndrome.). Then, my trusted ob-gyn muttered to the doctor next to him, "Oh, I had suspected that." (Without mentioning this to us? Huh?)
2. The home care physical therapist had us grasping our baby by the arms with her head flailing back unsupported, taking her from lying to sitting. Even my mother knew that looked WRONG and had us stop doing it soon after.
3. A pediatric psychologist examining our 5-year-old and concluding, "Just look at her... you can see the child inside her she would have been..." - Anonymous by request, San Diego, CA
I am a mother of two boys. One is listed ADD/hyper and dysthemic disorder. He is 16 years old. The other is a 19-year-old that is listed EMH at school, but on record ADD/hyper, dysthemic disorder and intermitted explosive disorder. The state found the school system guilty of not giving a free appropriate education, no transition plan, and no behavior plan. The whole IEP was not valid. I have literally stayed at the school just about every day because teachers would not do their job. I finally asked for a bed and a room to live in. With all the complaining from us and the state to do the IEP right and to get it in order, it was to no avail. Now, because of them not seeing that all the federal laws were handled the way they were suppose to be, there was legal action against my child.
All the advocacy group tells you to do is to write letters. Letters are good and keeping good records is important, but it does not make them do their job. They tell you they are no different from other children and that is how they are treated. If they had put in place the behavior plan, behavior specialist, and private tutoring or home bound as requested and had read the doctor reports, we would have not gone to court over assault on a government official. Had his one-on-one aide been there, this might not have happened.
When you are at a meeting at school and you want something done or request an evaluation, please write it down. If they tell you they are going to do something, document it on the IEP or on the back of the paper for the school. I have all my papers, and if they had done their IEP right, this would never have happened.
We have now finished with the courts. The free lawyer that the court appointed requested a forensic evaluation. He found that Jacob was indeed mentally retarded and mentally incompetent. At court, the D.A. still wanted to have the trial. So we went another week later for the competency hearing and the same day after that was suppose to be the trial if they found him mentally competent. The D.A. put the one-on-one aide on the stand and tried to prove that my son knew what he had done. He asked the normal questions, like how he was doing in school, if he was doing things like the other students and if he seemed normal to him. The aide answered yes to all. Our lawyer then asked what kind of a degree did he have in special education and he said a high school diploma. The lawyer also asked why he was working with him and he said just to help him out some. He also said that he did not need that much help but he was hired for the explosive disorder. My son has never been in trouble at school like this before.
The school and I went to the manifestation meeting and all that ever came out was that the resource officer was elbowed. Nothing else had been proven otherwise. From what I have put together, my son might have elbowed him to kid around with him. There are really no witnesses to the incident. The teacher’s statement that was taken proved that, but there was one teacher’s statement that makes me wonder if the officer had done something to provoke my son. The statement read: "Officer Johnson told my son to hit him again and then he placed him under arrest." Why would he tell my son to hit him again? I have asked for the SBI and the FBI and also the local police to investigate the officer, but they all have refused. It is bad enough to tell a "normal" person to hit you again, much less a mentally retarded student that has explosive disorder.
When one of my son’s special education teachers took the stand, he was also asked what kind of a degree he had in special education and he stated he had a masters degree in agriculture
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The Mars Climate Orbiter crashed in September 1999 because of a "silly mistake": wrong units in a program. Story Story Report
The 1988 shooting down of the Airbus 320 by the USS Vincennes was attributed to the cryptic and misleading output displayed by the tracking software. Story More
Death resulted from inadequate testing of the London Ambulance Service software. Story
Several 1985-7 deaths of cancer patients were due to overdoses of radiation resulting from a race condition between concurrent tasks in the Therac-25 software. Report Report Story More More More More
Errors in medical software have caused deaths. Details in B.W. Boehm, "Software and its Impact: A Quantitative Assessment," Datamation, 19(5), 48-59(1973).
An Airbus A320 crashes at an air show. Story
A China Airlines Airbus Industrie A300 crashes on April 26, 1994 killing 264. Recommendations include software modifications. Summary
The British destroyer H.M.S. Sheffield was sunk in the Falkland Islands war. According to one report, the ship's radar warning systems were programmed to identify the Exocet missile as "friendly" because the British arsenal includes the Exocet's homing device and allowed the missile to reach its target, namely the Sheffield. From "The development of software for ballistic-missile defense," by H. Lin, Scientific American, vol. 253, no. 6 (Dec. 1985), p. 48.
An error in an aircraft design program contributed to several serious air crashes. From P. Naur and B. Randell, eds., Software Engineering: Report on a Conference Sponsored by the NATO Science Committee, Brussels, NATO Scientific Affairs Division, 1968, p. 121.
An Air New Zealand airliner crashed into an Antarctic mountain; its crew had not been told that the input data to its navigational computer, which described its flight plan, had been changed. From "The development of software for ballistic-missile defense," by H. Lin, Scientific American, vol. 253, no. 6 (Dec. 1985), p. 52.
The Ariane 5 satellite launcher malfunction was caused by a faulty software exception routine resulting from a bad 64-bit floating point to 16-bit integer conversion. Report Story Story Story Story
During the maiden flight of the Discovery space shuttle, 30 seconds of (non-critical) real-time telemetry data was lost due to a problem in the requirement stage of the software development process. Story
A train stopped in the middle of nowhere (London' Docklands Light Railway) due to future station location changes after the software was deployed and reluctance to change the software. Story
The Dallas/Fort Worth air-traffic system began spitting out gibberish in the Fall of 1989 and controllers had to track planes on paper. "Ghost in the Machine," Time Magazine, Jan. 29, 1990. p. 58. Story
Several Space Shuttle missions have been delayed due to hardware/software interaction problems. Story
An airplane software control returned inappropriate responses to pilot inquiries during abnormal flight conditions. Story
The Pathfinder reset problem. Story More
An Iraqi Scud missile hit Dhahran barracks, leaving 28 dead and 98 wounded. The incoming missile was not detected by the Patriot defenses, whose clock had drifted .36 seconds during the 4-day continuous siege, the error increasing with elapsed time since the system was turned on. This software flaw prevented real-time tracking. The specifications called for aircraft speeds, not Mach 6 missiles, for 14-hour continuous performance, not 100. Patched software arrived via air one day later. From ACM SIGSOFT Software Engineering Notes, vol 16, #3. See Story More More More
Bug-infested [air traffic control software] was scoured by software experts at Carnegie-Mellon and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology to determine whether it could be salvaged or had to be canceled outright. Story
Were a missile to approach at a certain tricky angle (all) 27 programs would fail to shoot it down. Story
The Apollo 8 spacecraft erased part of the computer's memory. From G. J. Myers, Software Reliability: Principles & Practice, p. 25.
Eighteen errors were detected during the 10-day flight of Apollo 14. From G. J. Myers, Software Reliability: Principles & Practice, p. 25.
A 1963 NORAD exercise was incapacitated because a software error caused the incorrect routing of radar information. From G. J. Myers, Software Reliability: Principles & Practice, p. 25.
The U.S. Strategic Air Command's 465L Command System, even after being operational for 12 years, still averaged one software failure per day. From G. J. Myers, Software Reliability: Principles & Practice, p. 25.
An error in a single FORTRAN statement resulted in the loss of the first American probe to Venus. From G. J. Myers, Software Reliability: Principles & Practice, p. 25.
On June 3, 1980, the North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD) reported that the U.S. was under missile attack. The report was traced to a faulty computer circuit that generated incorrect signals. If the developers of the software responsible for processing these signals had taken into account the possibility that the circuit could fail, the false alert might not have occurred. From "The development of software for ballistic-missile defense," by H. Lin, Scientific American, vol. 253, no. 6 (Dec. 1985), p. 48.
The manned space capsule Gemini V missed its landing point by 100 miles because its guidance program ignored the motion of the earth around the sun. From "The development of software for ballistic-missile defense," by H. Lin, Scientific American, vol. 253, no. 6 (Dec. 1985), p. 49.
Five nuclear reactors were shut down temporarily because a program testing their resistance to earthquakes used an arithmetic sum of variables instead of the square root of the sum of the squares of the variables. From "The development of software for ballistic-missile defense," by H. Lin, Scientific American, vol. 253, no. 6 (Dec. 1985), p. 49.
In a 1977 exercise, when it was connected to the command-and-control systems of several regional commands, the WWMCCS had an average success rate for message transmission of only 38 percent. From "The development of software for ballistic-missile defense," by H. Lin, Scientific American, vol. 253, no. 6 (Dec. 1985), p. 51.
Aegis was installed on the U.S.S. Ticonderoga, a Navy cruiser. After the Ticonderoga was commissioned the weapon system underwent its first operational test. In this test it failed to shoot down six out of 16 targets because of faulty software; earlier small-scale and simulation tests had not uncovered certain system errors. In addition, because of test-range limitations, at no time were more than three targets presented to the system simultaneously. For a sizable attack approaching Aegis' design limits the results would most likely have been worse. From "The development of software for ballistic-missile defense," by H. Lin, Scientific American , vol. 253, no. 6 (Dec. 1985), p. 51.
On June 19, 1985 the Strategic Defense Initiative Organization performed a simple experiment: The crew of the space shuttle was to position the shuttle so that a mirror mounted on its side could reflect a laser beamed from the top of a mountain 10,023 feet above sea level. The experiment failed because the computer program controlling the shuttle's movements interpreted the information it received on the laser's location as indicating the elevation in nautical miles instead of feet. As a result the program positioned the shuttle to receive a beam from a nonexistent mountain 10,023 nautical miles above sea level. From "The development of software for ballistic-missile defense," by H. Lin, Scientific American , vol. 253, no. 6 (Dec. 1985), p. 51.
The first operational launch attempt of the space shuttle, whose real-time operating software consists of about 500,000 lines of code, failed because of a synchronization problem among its flight-control computers. The software error responsible for the failure, which was itself introduced when another error was fixed two years earlier, would have revealed itself, on the average, once in 67 times. From "The development of software for ballistic-missile defense," by H. Lin, Scientific American, vol. 253, no. 6 (Dec. 1985), p. 52.
"The change was so simple he didn't feel he had to inform anyone that it took place and the mistake he made was so stupid. He had no idea of the damage it would caused." The day after the product shipped 50 beta testers called and reported that all the paychecks were being printed at zero dollars. Story
The Sendmail security bug. Story
INTEL processor bugs galore. List Pentium discussion
A computer-monitored house arrest inmate escaped and subsequently committed murder. This was caused by the reporting software not re-trying when it received a busy signal at the main computer number. Story
The clock in the video camera indicated a customer had withdrawn his money at the same time as a fraud occurred, so the bank forwarded his photo to the authorities. The clock had been off by about one hour. Story
The nine-hour breakdown of AT&T's long-distance telephone network in Jan. 1990, caused by an untested code patch, dramatized the vulnerability of complex computer systems everywhere. "Ghost in the Machine," Time Magazine, Jan. 29, 1990. p. 58. Story
On July 1-2, 1991, computer-software collapses in telephone switching stations disrupted service in Washington DC, Pittsburgh, Los Angeles and San Francisco. Once again, seemingly minor maintenance problems had crippled the digital System 7. About twelve million people were affected in the crash of July 1, 1991. Said the New York Times Service: "Telephone company executives and federal regulators said they were not ruling out the possibility of sabotage by computer hackers, but most seemed to think the problems stemmed from some unknown defect in the software running the networks." Within the week, a red-faced software company, DSC Communications Corporation of Plano, Texas, owned up to glitches in the signal transfer point software that DSC had designed for Bell Atlantic and Pacific Bell. The immediate cause of the July 1 crash was a single mistyped character: one tiny typographical flaw in one single line of the software. One mistyped letter, in one single line, had deprived the nations capital of phone service. It was not particularly surprising that this tiny flaw had escaped attention: a typical System 7 station requires ten million lines of code. From The Hacker Crackdown, by Bruce Sterling, 1992. Story More More More
During a payday rush in 1989, a faulty program shut down 1,800 automated-teller machines at Tokyo's Dai-Ichi Kangyo Bank. "Ghost in the Machine," Time Magazine, Jan. 29, 1990. p. 58. Story
When an airline's reservation system went down in 1989, 14,000 travel agents had to book flights manually. "Ghost in the Machine," Time Magazine, Jan. 29, 1990. p. 58. Story
In the early 1980s, Buick had to give 80,000 V6 cars a chip transplant to fix flaws in their microprocessors. "Ghost in the Machine," Time Magazine, Jan. 29, 1990. p. 58. Story
The New York Stock Exchange opened one hour late on Dec. 18, 1995 due to a communications problem in the software. Story
Chemical Bank went down for 5 hours on July 20, 1994 due to a file update overloading the computer system. Story
There was a San Francisco 911 system crash of over 30 minutes on Oct. 12, 1995. Patched but not fixed, it still misses between 100-200 calls per day. Story
The hole in Ozone layer over Antartica left undetected for extended period because data was considered anomalous by software because it was out of the specified range. Story
The Denver airport stayed closed for over a year due to software glitches in the automated baggage handling system. Story More
Bell Atlantic Corp. failed to bill approximately 400,000 AT&T customers in parts of Virginia, Maryland, Washington D.C., and West Virginia for their long-distance calls on their January 1998 bill. AT&T stated that their Operations Support Systems provided Bell Atlantic with the correct billing data for three of the twenty billing cycles, customer's billed on the 2nd, 4-5th, and 7th of the month, and that a Bell Atlantic computer error failed to produce the AT&T portion of the bill. Bell Atlantic has stated that the problem was a "systems glitch", "processing error", and/or "data processing error". [Supposedly, computer tapes were used to transfer the billing details between AT&T and Bell Atlantic.] From an AT&T press release, dated 16-Jan-1998, reprinted in the Richmond Times-Dispatch, 17 Jan 1998, p. C10.
Oodles of software will fail in the year 2000. Story More More Lots more
The IRS uncovered an unintended side effect of its effort to eliminate the Year 2000 computer bug: About 1,000 taxpayers who were current in their tax installment agreements were suddenly declared in default due to a programming error. [There are 62 million lines of source code to check; the error was caused by an attempted Y2K fix.] From the Associated Press newswire (AP US & World, 23 Jan 1998, by Rob Wells).
An alert to all National Association of Miniature Enthusiasts (NAME) members: A member recently called the office to find out why she hasn't received her Houseparty Gazette. She discovered that the computer has deactivated ALL members whose memberships expire in the year 2000 and beyond. Kim ... said she had no way of knowing who those folks are unless they call her and let her know. From the rec.arts.dollhouses newsgroup.
One production line shut down when the laser-driven printer putting "sell-by" dates on products couldn't handle the 2000 date. Industry Week, Jan. 5, 1998, p. 26.
Many programs err in, or simply ignore, the century rule for leap years on the Gregorian calendar (every 4th year is a leap year, except every 100th year which is not, except every 400th year which is). For example, early releases of the popular spreadsheet program Lotus 1-2-3 treated 2000 as a non-leap year, a problem eventually fixed. But, all releases of Lotus 1-2-3 take 1900 as a leap year; by the time this error was recognized, the company deemed it too late to correct: ``The decision was made at some point that a change now would disrupt formulas which were written to accommodate this anomaly''. Excel, part of Microsoft Office, has the same flaw. From Calendrical Calculations , N. Dershowitz and E. M. Reingold, p. xviii.
The New York City Taxi and Limousine Commission chose March 1, 1996 as the start date for a new, higher fare structure for cabs. Meters programmed by one company in Queens forgot about the leap day and charged customers the higher rate on February 29. The New York Times, March 1, 1997.
A computer software error at the Tiwai Point aluminum smelter in Southland, New Zealand at midnight on New Year's Eve 1997 caused more than $AU 1 million of damage. The software error was the failure to account for leap years (and considering a 366th day in the year to be invalid), causing 660 process control computers to shut down and the smelting pots to cool. The same problem occurred two hours later at Comalco's Bell Bay smelter in Tasmania (which is two hours behind New Zealand). The general manager of operations for New Zealand Aluminum Smelters, David Brewer, said ``It was a complicated problem and it took quite some time [until midafternoon] to find the cause.'' The New Zealand Herald , January 8, 1997, and The Dominion, in Wellington, New Zealand.
A "computer error" is blamed for a false report of three death by an incurable disease when a woman killed her daughter and tried to kill her son and herself. From ACM SIGSOFT Software Engineering Notes, vol. 10, no. 3
A Norwegian class gets a pornographic image because of cache problem, when a recycled link leads to a pornographic site. From Internet Risks Forum NewsGroup (RISKS), vol. 19, issue 47.
Computers were blamed when, in three separate incidents, 3 million, 5.4 million, and 1.5 million gallons of raw sewage were dumped into Willamette River. From ACM SIGSOFT Software Engineering Notes, vol. 13, no. 3.
The U.S. national EFTPOS system crashed on 2 Jun 1997 for two hours and 100K transactions were "lost". One central processor failed and backup procedures to redistribute the load also failed. From Internet Risks Forum NewsGroup (RISKS), vol. 19, issue 21.
Computer blunders were blamed for $650M student loan losses. From ACM SIGSOFT Software Engineering Notes , vol. 20, no. 3.
An Internet routing "black hole" cuts off ISPs; MAI Network Services routing table errors directed 50,000 routing addresses to MAI; InterNIC goofed, as well, 23 Apr 1997. From ACM SIGSOFT Software Engineering Notes, vol. 22, no. 4.
Votes were lost by a computer in Toronto. The Toronto district finally abandoned computerized voting, leaving a year-old race unresolved. From ACM SIGSOFT Software Engineering Notes , vol. 15, no. 2.
A cat was registered as a voter to demonstrate risks (no pawtograph required). From ACM SIGSOFT Software Engineering Notes, vol. 20, no. 1.
A "read-ahead" synchronization glitch and/or an eager operator caused a large data entry error, and the wrong winner was announced in a Rome, Italy city election. From ACM SIGSOFT Software Engineering Notes, vol. 15, no. 1.
In a German parliament election, the program rounds up the Greens' 4.97%, which was less than the 5% cutoff; when corrected, the Social Democrats attained a one seat majority. From ACM SIGSOFT Software Engineering Notes, vol. 17, no. 3.
An Oregon computer error reversed election results. From ACM SIGSOFT Software Engineering Notes, vol. 18, no. 1.
A (CTSS) raw password file was distributed as message-of-the-day, due to an editor temporary file name confusion. See Morris and Thompson, CACM 22, 11, Nov 1979.
The U.S. Social Security Administration systems could not handle non-Anglo names, affecting $234 billion for 100,000 people, some going back to 1937. From Internet Risks Forum NewsGroup (RISKS) , vol 18, issue 80.
Software prevented the correction of a recognized Olympic skating scoring error. From ACM SIGSOFT Software Engineering Notes, vol. 17, no. 2.
A computer scoring glitch at an Olympic boxing match causes the evident winner to lose. From ACM SIGSOFT Software Engineering Notes, vol. 17, no. 4.
A man's auto insurance rate triples when he turns 101 (= 1 mod 100). From ACM SIGSOFT Software Engineering Notes, vol. 12, no. 1.
A Montreal life insurance company dies due to software bugs in its integrated system. From ACM SIGSOFT Software Engineering Notes, vol. 17, no. 2.
A computer test residue generates a false tsunami warning in Japan. From ACM SIGSOFT Software Engineering Notes, vol. 19, no. 3.
Chicago cat owners were billed $5 for unlicensed dachshunds. A database search on "DHC" (for dachshunds) found "domestic house cats" with shots but no license. From ACM SIGSOFT Software Engineering Notes, vol. 12, no. 3.
The Korean Airlines KAL 901 accident in Guam killed 225 out of 254 aboard. A worldwide bug was discovered in barometric altimetry in Ground Proximity Warning System (GPWS). From ACM SIGSOFT Software Engineering Notes, vol. 23, no. 1.
A "computer error" affected hundreds of U.K. A-level exam results. From Internet Risks Forum NewsGroup (RISKS), vol. 19, issue 40.
The Paris police computer mismatched a Corsican city code with postal code, and was unable to collect motorists' fines. From Internet Risks Forum NewsGroup (RISKS), vol. 19, issue 41.
Netscape Communicator 4.02 and 4.01a allowed disclosure of passwords. From Internet Risks Forum NewsGroup (RISKS), vol. 19, issue 34.
A bank robbery "wanted" poster of the wrong person was due to an unchecked match. From Internet Risks Forum NewsGroup (RISKS), vol. 19, issue 29.
The Soviet Phobos I Mars probe was lost, due to a faulty software update, at a cost of 300 million rubles. Its disorientation broke the radio link and the solar batteries discharged before reacquisition. From Aviation Week, 13 Feb 1989.
An F-18 fighter plane crashed due to a missing exception condition. From ACM SIGSOFT Software Engineering Notes, vol. 6, no. 2.
An F-14 fighter plane was lost to uncontrollable spin, traced to tactical software. From ACM SIGSOFT Software Engineering Notes, vol. 9, no. 5.
A Parisian computer transforms traffic charges into big crimes. From ACM SIGSOFT Software Engineering Notes, vol. 14, no. 6.
CyberSitter censors "menu */ #define" because of the string "nu...de". From Internet Risks Forum NewsGroup (RISKS), vol. 19, issue 56.
In a heavily loaded computer system, a steady stream of high-priority processes can prevent a low-priority process from ever getting resources. Generally, one of two things will happen. Either the process will eventually be run (at 2 A.M. Sunday, when the system is finally lightly loaded), or the computer system will eventually crash and lose all unfinished low-priority processes.... Rumor has it that, when they shut down the IBM 7094 at MIT in 1973, they found a low-priority process that had been submitted in 1967 and had not yet been run. From Silbershatz and Galvin, pp. 142-143.
GTE Corp. mistakenly printed 50,000 unlisted residential phone numbers and addresses in 19 directories that were leased to telemarkteters in communities between Santa Barbara and Huntington Beach. GTE blames the problem on a software snafu. The company faces fines of up to 1.5 billion dollars, if found guilty of gross negligence. From comp.dcom.telecom newsgroup (27 Apr 1998); X Telecom Digest, Volume 18, Issue 60, Message 4 of 7.
On Sept. 19, 1989 an overflow (of a 2-byte integer) at a Washington, DC hospital caused a computer to collapse and forced them to do things manually.
On Nov. 16, 1989 an overflow (of a 2-byte integer) in the Michingan Terminal System caused a computer crash in Newcastle, followed by crashes all over the U.S.
Midwest Telephone Company had a program to assign telephone numbers with a $5 million annual maintenance budget. In 1981, they reported: "No more than 15 known errors remain unsolved at the end of each month." In fact, people had stopped using the program and were entering numbers manually, leaving the database hopelessly outdated.
Bank of America was forced to write off a $60 million investment in a new software systems and reverted to its 15-year old predecessor.
Due to a software error, Continental Airlines consistently undercharged for plane rentals by one day.
SRI International's computer reset the time by averaging 11 clocks, though one was 12 hours off.
In 1980, the ARPAnet shut down on account of a self-propagating error.
Rumor has it that a military plane flipped over when crossing the equator.
Rumor has it that an Airbus plane crashed into its hangar, since its onboard computer interpreted a bump as turbulence in the air.
Software reboot during the Apollo 11 landing forced Armstrong to manually land the lunar lander. Story
In 1989, Swedish Gripen prototype crashed due to new software in the fly-by-wire system. Story
In 1995, Swedish Gripen fighter plane crashed during air-show. Story
Soldiers killed. Story
Roundup of US government Y2K bugs.
French ticket reservation software took 4 months to get working. Story
In October 1995, 200,000 French civil servants were paid twice.
On May 3, 2000, Paris area telephone service collapsed. Story
Software error causes patients to be declared dead. Story
Shuttle simulator bug. Story
Software suspected in 1994 Chinook helicopter crash, killing 29. Story Report
For two days during the summer holidays in 2004, the French national railroad company's reservation system was disorganized, due to a faulty patch. Report
After he had surveyed his
After he had surveyed his surroundings to make sure that the coast was clear, Trent entered the underbelly of Portland through an old utility entrance under the rising, steel-grated skeleton of St. John’s Bridge. As he ducked through an open section of chain link fence near one of the bridge’s main columns, he could see the bustle of traffic high above him roaring over the iron-meshed grills - black rubber tires created that comforting sound of ‘home’ as they roared over the metal grates.
Once inside the small, trash-strewn, fenced perimeter of the concrete pillar, Trent scanned the area around him again. Seeing that no one had followed him and that it was safe to proceed, he hurried along through the garden of discarded plastic bottles, mouldy, sun-bleached newspapers, rotted boards, broken glass and used condoms until he had reached a small manhole covered with a rusted iron cover. Again, Trent took a look around and when he was finally convinced that all was safe, he lifted the cover off and slipped down into the darkness that led into the belly of Portland.
Trent placed his foot on the first rusted rung of an iron ladder. The ladder was nothing more than a rickety series of iron strips sunk into the concrete wall that had once been used by Portland city workers decades earlier. When only Trent’s head remained above ground level, he held on to the top rung with a white- knuckle grip. With his free hand he pulled the cover back over the hole and continued the climb down until his feet were firmly planted.
As soon as Trent’s feet hit the concave concrete of the old sewer tributary beneath him, he immediately went into a dead run, hoping that whatever he had just seen above ground would not follow him.
Trent ran through the dark sewer until his heart pumped acid into his veins, making the muscles in his thighs, calves and feet burn. He exhaled; his breath hung in the cold air like a rain cloud. Then he ran some more. He was lucky his instinct guided him through the darkness of these tunnels; he knew them like the back of his hand after living on, and below, the streets of Portland for the last three years. Only when his body could not withstand any more of the abuse, did he stop for a rest on a dimly lit brick ledge under a grate. Above him through the metal grill the noon sun hung in the smog-filled, grey sky, and Trent could hear the bustling of midday traffic, the honking of angry car horns and the patter of pedestrians who went about their business above ground. As Trent sought to catch his breath, he eased back and rested his head against the crumbling, brick-lined sewer wall to relax for awhile to enjoy a cigarette that he fished out of the inside pocket of his denim jacket.
As Trent took in the first stale drag from his cigarette, he pondered over what had just transpired. Maybe he had just imagined it, hadn’t really seen what he thought he had seen in Cathedral Park only a few minutes ago. Perhaps his eyes were playing tricks on him.
Still, Trent had lived on these streets for three years. Down on his luck or not, Trent knew damn well that you have to keep a good head on your shoulders to survive on the streets of Portland - and whatever the hell it was that he had seen, it seemed real enough to him and he wasn't prone to flights of fancy or seeing things that weren't there.
The image played over in his mind again, burned into the backs of his eyes and he could still see it when he blinked - indelible. He wondered why it was that he felt safe down here in the ghost that was once a city, beneath the beast above that was Portland; surely there was considerably more safety in the vast numbers of people on the streets, safety in the sunlight, safety in the day time, above ground, safety in reality and normality. But this was his reality, this was his normal, and this was where he felt safest.
That wasn't right kept ringing inside his head. It was something that should hide in dark places, something that had no place being up-top, on the outside, all the way up there with the regular folks.
He remembered all the old urban legends he'd heard over the years, things his grandfather had told him when he was a little boy on his Gramp’s knee and he thought the old man was 837 years old. He remembered stuff he'd heard at school - from kids and teachers, things he had overheard in coffee shops and bars, out on the street...and under it. Those were the worst ones - the one's he'd heard down here. And yet this was his home, this was the place he felt safe.
In particular, he remembered a story that Guitar John, one of the oldest guys who lived underneath Portland, had told him when he first came underground. At the time he thought that maybe the old hippy who liked to talk to his own hand was just trying to freak the ‘new kid’ out as a part of Trent‘s rite of passage to acceptance in his new home. Still, the grizzled man’s story about a little girl’s disembodied head screaming through the tunnels un-nerved him due to the man‘s flair for vivid details. For weeks after that, Trent would move very cautiously through the tunnels on this side of the city, half expecting something from an old horror movie to jump out from every blind corner he went around. And when the old rusted pipes that ran along the sides of the tunnels would creak and emit inhuman groans that emanated from throughout the entire tunnel system, Trent’s fear would erupt into a dead and blind run that led him haphazardly into sections of dark tunnels that were unknown to him.
Not too bright, nor brave for sixteen years old, but that seemed like a lifetime ago to Trent after being under the streets for three years. He was a man now, wily, street-wise, always ready with a broken bottle to slice into flesh if some newbie got out of hand down here and needed to be cowed.
But it was safer way down here than it was sleeping rough on the dirty streets and the filthy alleys of Portland. They'll fucking kill you for your cardboard quilt as soon as look at you, he was told by a stinking old drunk who turned out to be a famous writer once upon a time, but was now only notorious for being a hopeless drunkard. ‘Sit-ups’ they called him, on account of him having to sleep sitting up in order to avoid choking on his own vomit every night.
He had some chilling memories of being up top when he first got to Portland. Memories that still made beads of cold sweat spider down his spine and a look of child-like fear freeze his gaze whenever he allowed them into his head.
Now, panting in the underbelly of the city like Jonah in the guts of the whale, he felt that way again - too young and too green to be here, the reek of nievety coming off him like stale sweat. He was a little boy again hiding beneath the covers from the monster under the bed, pissing himself rather than put one foot out and onto the floor in case some thing grabbed it, the teenager wondering whether or not to take the shortcut through the cemetery just to make it home on time or take the well-lit way and be roasted alive for being late.
They were all closing in on him now - all the things he’d ever had to live with or get over or deal with. All those things that he’d overcome to get where he was, be by himself, not bothered by anybody anymore. He was a non-person, yes, not even a government statistic, he was nobody. And he’d worked damn hard to become him.
Once inside the small, trash-strewn, fenced perimeter of the concrete pillar, Trent scanned the area around him again. Seeing that no one had followed him and that it was safe to proceed, he hurried along through the garden of discarded plastic bottles, mouldy, sun-bleached newspapers, rotted boards, broken glass and used condoms until he had reached a small manhole covered with a rusted iron cover. Again, Trent took a look around and when he was finally convinced that all was safe, he lifted the cover off and slipped down into the darkness that led into the belly of Portland.
Trent placed his foot on the first rusted rung of an iron ladder. The ladder was nothing more than a rickety series of iron strips sunk into the concrete wall that had once been used by Portland city workers decades earlier. When only Trent’s head remained above ground level, he held on to the top rung with a white- knuckle grip. With his free hand he pulled the cover back over the hole and continued the climb down until his feet were firmly planted.
As soon as Trent’s feet hit the concave concrete of the old sewer tributary beneath him, he immediately went into a dead run, hoping that whatever he had just seen above ground would not follow him.
Trent ran through the dark sewer until his heart pumped acid into his veins, making the muscles in his thighs, calves and feet burn. He exhaled; his breath hung in the cold air like a rain cloud. Then he ran some more. He was lucky his instinct guided him through the darkness of these tunnels; he knew them like the back of his hand after living on, and below, the streets of Portland for the last three years. Only when his body could not withstand any more of the abuse, did he stop for a rest on a dimly lit brick ledge under a grate. Above him through the metal grill the noon sun hung in the smog-filled, grey sky, and Trent could hear the bustling of midday traffic, the honking of angry car horns and the patter of pedestrians who went about their business above ground. As Trent sought to catch his breath, he eased back and rested his head against the crumbling, brick-lined sewer wall to relax for awhile to enjoy a cigarette that he fished out of the inside pocket of his denim jacket.
As Trent took in the first stale drag from his cigarette, he pondered over what had just transpired. Maybe he had just imagined it, hadn’t really seen what he thought he had seen in Cathedral Park only a few minutes ago. Perhaps his eyes were playing tricks on him.
Still, Trent had lived on these streets for three years. Down on his luck or not, Trent knew damn well that you have to keep a good head on your shoulders to survive on the streets of Portland - and whatever the hell it was that he had seen, it seemed real enough to him and he wasn't prone to flights of fancy or seeing things that weren't there.
The image played over in his mind again, burned into the backs of his eyes and he could still see it when he blinked - indelible. He wondered why it was that he felt safe down here in the ghost that was once a city, beneath the beast above that was Portland; surely there was considerably more safety in the vast numbers of people on the streets, safety in the sunlight, safety in the day time, above ground, safety in reality and normality. But this was his reality, this was his normal, and this was where he felt safest.
That wasn't right kept ringing inside his head. It was something that should hide in dark places, something that had no place being up-top, on the outside, all the way up there with the regular folks.
He remembered all the old urban legends he'd heard over the years, things his grandfather had told him when he was a little boy on his Gramp’s knee and he thought the old man was 837 years old. He remembered stuff he'd heard at school - from kids and teachers, things he had overheard in coffee shops and bars, out on the street...and under it. Those were the worst ones - the one's he'd heard down here. And yet this was his home, this was the place he felt safe.
In particular, he remembered a story that Guitar John, one of the oldest guys who lived underneath Portland, had told him when he first came underground. At the time he thought that maybe the old hippy who liked to talk to his own hand was just trying to freak the ‘new kid’ out as a part of Trent‘s rite of passage to acceptance in his new home. Still, the grizzled man’s story about a little girl’s disembodied head screaming through the tunnels un-nerved him due to the man‘s flair for vivid details. For weeks after that, Trent would move very cautiously through the tunnels on this side of the city, half expecting something from an old horror movie to jump out from every blind corner he went around. And when the old rusted pipes that ran along the sides of the tunnels would creak and emit inhuman groans that emanated from throughout the entire tunnel system, Trent’s fear would erupt into a dead and blind run that led him haphazardly into sections of dark tunnels that were unknown to him.
Not too bright, nor brave for sixteen years old, but that seemed like a lifetime ago to Trent after being under the streets for three years. He was a man now, wily, street-wise, always ready with a broken bottle to slice into flesh if some newbie got out of hand down here and needed to be cowed.
But it was safer way down here than it was sleeping rough on the dirty streets and the filthy alleys of Portland. They'll fucking kill you for your cardboard quilt as soon as look at you, he was told by a stinking old drunk who turned out to be a famous writer once upon a time, but was now only notorious for being a hopeless drunkard. ‘Sit-ups’ they called him, on account of him having to sleep sitting up in order to avoid choking on his own vomit every night.
He had some chilling memories of being up top when he first got to Portland. Memories that still made beads of cold sweat spider down his spine and a look of child-like fear freeze his gaze whenever he allowed them into his head.
Now, panting in the underbelly of the city like Jonah in the guts of the whale, he felt that way again - too young and too green to be here, the reek of nievety coming off him like stale sweat. He was a little boy again hiding beneath the covers from the monster under the bed, pissing himself rather than put one foot out and onto the floor in case some thing grabbed it, the teenager wondering whether or not to take the shortcut through the cemetery just to make it home on time or take the well-lit way and be roasted alive for being late.
They were all closing in on him now - all the things he’d ever had to live with or get over or deal with. All those things that he’d overcome to get where he was, be by himself, not bothered by anybody anymore. He was a non-person, yes, not even a government statistic, he was nobody. And he’d worked damn hard to become him.
That was when I hit the fucker.
That was when I hit the fucker. I hit him hard and square on the bridge of the nose; with a hammer, and watched in delight as his funny, laughing face caved in and gushed red-black blood.
I smiled, knowing that I had finally killed him.
And that was when he started laughing at me, his wicked pink plastic face melding back together from the blow I'd dealt him. Giggling as I let out a deep sigh and reached for the hacksaw amidst the pile of torture implements scattered on the table.
I bought him for my daughter's fourth birthday.
I remember walking into the toy section of Wal-Mart, sweating under those phosphorescent lights as I turned a corner and faced a thousand "My Pal" dolls smiling deviantly from the windows of their bright pink boxes. Out of the corners of my eyes I even saw them turn their tiny heads and grin at me through little pairs of fangs as I walked past them.
Fuck, I hate them!
Ever since I was a kid, I was all too aware of the truth behind dolls.
I was five and my parents had let me stay up late to watch "Fantasy Island" on T.V. You know, the one with the midget named "Tattoo"? And in that episode I was made aware that dolls came to life a midnight and ran amok.
I took the hacksaw in my hand and pondered over the little guy bound in the tiny red plastic chair where he had been drinking tea next to the teddy bear before my wife and daughter went to church.
Fucking dolls!
Forget what you think you know about dolls.
Never mind that bear, he's okay in my book and he doesn't say much; but dolls .... They sleep during the day and wake up when everyone is asleep. Plastic ones, porcelain (those are the worst!), cloth, wood or whatever, the whole lot of them come to life at night like the little vampires they really are.
Forget the hacksaw!
They walk around houses and streets at night doing god knows what! I think they even have their own social system.
I plug in the skill-saw, open the throttle full bore and taunt the blade at Pal's face as I grin over him.
"Now you're really gonna get it!" I cackle.
I swear it! Remember when you were a little kid and you used to talk to your toys? They'd answer you back, wouldn't they? Don't tell me that they didn't because you and I both know that they did!
I put the saw up to Pal's neck and he starts to scream as the blade rips through his chin and bright red, blood mingled, pink plastic sawdust sprays the room and I grin as Pal's head falls off the bloody pink stump of his neck onto the floor. I give his head a strong kick for good measure and watch it streak across the playroom and bounce off the wall.
"Take that, pal!" I laugh, and downstairs I go to grab a cold one after a hard day's work. I slump in my chair and click on the tube to watch baseball, but quickly change it to "In Search Of ..." hosted by "Spock" from Star Trek when a "Talking Tina" commercial comes on.
I must have drifted off to sleep from the boredom.
It was dark outside when I awoke and saw the car keys on the table and could hear my wife loudly snoring in bed. I checked my watch.
It was 12:02.
I crept up the stairs quietly and gently pushed on the half open door of my daughter's room.
My daughter was sleeping quietly and there clutched in her tiny arms was Pal. He slowly turned his head, grinned at me with a mouthful of sharp teeth and gave me a short, knowing wave with his tiny arm.
I let out a deep sigh, felt a knot in my stomach and slowly closed the door.
Tonight I won't sleep, and maybe tomorrow I'll have to try the garbage disposal.
I smiled, knowing that I had finally killed him.
And that was when he started laughing at me, his wicked pink plastic face melding back together from the blow I'd dealt him. Giggling as I let out a deep sigh and reached for the hacksaw amidst the pile of torture implements scattered on the table.
I bought him for my daughter's fourth birthday.
I remember walking into the toy section of Wal-Mart, sweating under those phosphorescent lights as I turned a corner and faced a thousand "My Pal" dolls smiling deviantly from the windows of their bright pink boxes. Out of the corners of my eyes I even saw them turn their tiny heads and grin at me through little pairs of fangs as I walked past them.
Fuck, I hate them!
Ever since I was a kid, I was all too aware of the truth behind dolls.
I was five and my parents had let me stay up late to watch "Fantasy Island" on T.V. You know, the one with the midget named "Tattoo"? And in that episode I was made aware that dolls came to life a midnight and ran amok.
I took the hacksaw in my hand and pondered over the little guy bound in the tiny red plastic chair where he had been drinking tea next to the teddy bear before my wife and daughter went to church.
Fucking dolls!
Forget what you think you know about dolls.
Never mind that bear, he's okay in my book and he doesn't say much; but dolls .... They sleep during the day and wake up when everyone is asleep. Plastic ones, porcelain (those are the worst!), cloth, wood or whatever, the whole lot of them come to life at night like the little vampires they really are.
Forget the hacksaw!
They walk around houses and streets at night doing god knows what! I think they even have their own social system.
I plug in the skill-saw, open the throttle full bore and taunt the blade at Pal's face as I grin over him.
"Now you're really gonna get it!" I cackle.
I swear it! Remember when you were a little kid and you used to talk to your toys? They'd answer you back, wouldn't they? Don't tell me that they didn't because you and I both know that they did!
I put the saw up to Pal's neck and he starts to scream as the blade rips through his chin and bright red, blood mingled, pink plastic sawdust sprays the room and I grin as Pal's head falls off the bloody pink stump of his neck onto the floor. I give his head a strong kick for good measure and watch it streak across the playroom and bounce off the wall.
"Take that, pal!" I laugh, and downstairs I go to grab a cold one after a hard day's work. I slump in my chair and click on the tube to watch baseball, but quickly change it to "In Search Of ..." hosted by "Spock" from Star Trek when a "Talking Tina" commercial comes on.
I must have drifted off to sleep from the boredom.
It was dark outside when I awoke and saw the car keys on the table and could hear my wife loudly snoring in bed. I checked my watch.
It was 12:02.
I crept up the stairs quietly and gently pushed on the half open door of my daughter's room.
My daughter was sleeping quietly and there clutched in her tiny arms was Pal. He slowly turned his head, grinned at me with a mouthful of sharp teeth and gave me a short, knowing wave with his tiny arm.
I let out a deep sigh, felt a knot in my stomach and slowly closed the door.
Tonight I won't sleep, and maybe tomorrow I'll have to try the garbage disposal.
the girl's family
From the very Begining, the girl's family objected strongly on her dating this guy. Saying that it has got to do with family background & that the girl will have to suffer for the rest of her life if she were to be with him.
Due to family's pressure, the couple quarrel very often. Though the girl love the guy deeply, but she always ask him: "How deep is your love for me?"
As the guy is not good with his words, this often cause the girl to be very upset. With that & the family's pressure, the girl often vent her anger on him. As for him, he only endure it in silence.
After a couple of years, the guy finally graduated & decided to further his studies in overseas. Before leaving, he proposed to the girl: "I'm not very good with words. But all I know is that I love you. If you allow me, I will take care of you for the rest of my life. As for your family, I'll try my best to talk them round. Will you marry me?"
The girl agreed, & with the guy's determination, the family finally gave in & agreed to let them get married. So before he leave, they got engaged.
The girl went out to the working society, whereas the guy was overseas, continuing his studies. They sent their love through emails & phone calls. Though it's hard, but both never thought of giving up.
One day, while the girl was on her way to work, she was knocked down by a car that lost control. When she woke up, she saw her parents beside her bed. She realised that she was badly injured. Seeing her mum crying, she wanted to comfort her. But she realized that all that could come out of her mouth was just a sigh. She has lost her voice......
The doctors says that the impact on her brain has caused her to lose her voice. Listening to her parents' comfort, but with nothing coming out from her, she broke down.
During the stay in hospital, besides silence cry,.....it's still just silence cry that companied her. Upon reaching home, everything seems to be the same. Except for the ringing tone of the phone. Which pierced into her heart everytime it rang. She does not wish to let the guy know. & not wanting to be a burden to him, she wrote a letter to him saying that she does not wish to wait any longer.
With that, she sent the ring back to him. In return, the guy sent millions & millions of reply, and countless of phonecalls,.. all the girl could do, besides crying, is still crying....
The parents decided to move away, hoping that she could eventually forget everything & be happy.
With a new environment, the girl learn sign language & started a new life. Telling herself everyday that she must forget the guy. One day, her friend came & told her that he's back. She asked her friend not to let him know what happened to her. Since then, there wasn't anymore news of him.
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Sweet Love Story
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A year has passed & her friend came with an envelope, containing an invitation card for the guy's wedding. The girl was shattered. When she open the letter, she saw her name in it instead.
When she was about to ask her friend what's going on, she saw the guy standing in front of her. He used sign language telling her "I've spent a year's time to learn sign language. Just to let you know that I've not forgotten our promise. Let me have the chance to be your voice. I Love You. With that, he slipped the ring back into her finger. The girl finally smiled.
Due to family's pressure, the couple quarrel very often. Though the girl love the guy deeply, but she always ask him: "How deep is your love for me?"
As the guy is not good with his words, this often cause the girl to be very upset. With that & the family's pressure, the girl often vent her anger on him. As for him, he only endure it in silence.
After a couple of years, the guy finally graduated & decided to further his studies in overseas. Before leaving, he proposed to the girl: "I'm not very good with words. But all I know is that I love you. If you allow me, I will take care of you for the rest of my life. As for your family, I'll try my best to talk them round. Will you marry me?"
The girl agreed, & with the guy's determination, the family finally gave in & agreed to let them get married. So before he leave, they got engaged.
The girl went out to the working society, whereas the guy was overseas, continuing his studies. They sent their love through emails & phone calls. Though it's hard, but both never thought of giving up.
One day, while the girl was on her way to work, she was knocked down by a car that lost control. When she woke up, she saw her parents beside her bed. She realised that she was badly injured. Seeing her mum crying, she wanted to comfort her. But she realized that all that could come out of her mouth was just a sigh. She has lost her voice......
The doctors says that the impact on her brain has caused her to lose her voice. Listening to her parents' comfort, but with nothing coming out from her, she broke down.
During the stay in hospital, besides silence cry,.....it's still just silence cry that companied her. Upon reaching home, everything seems to be the same. Except for the ringing tone of the phone. Which pierced into her heart everytime it rang. She does not wish to let the guy know. & not wanting to be a burden to him, she wrote a letter to him saying that she does not wish to wait any longer.
With that, she sent the ring back to him. In return, the guy sent millions & millions of reply, and countless of phonecalls,.. all the girl could do, besides crying, is still crying....
The parents decided to move away, hoping that she could eventually forget everything & be happy.
With a new environment, the girl learn sign language & started a new life. Telling herself everyday that she must forget the guy. One day, her friend came & told her that he's back. She asked her friend not to let him know what happened to her. Since then, there wasn't anymore news of him.
Do you like this love story?Share this love story with your friends on your Blog/Website/Myspace!
Sweet Love Story
Or get the code to link to Love Fate Destiny!
A year has passed & her friend came with an envelope, containing an invitation card for the guy's wedding. The girl was shattered. When she open the letter, she saw her name in it instead.
When she was about to ask her friend what's going on, she saw the guy standing in front of her. He used sign language telling her "I've spent a year's time to learn sign language. Just to let you know that I've not forgotten our promise. Let me have the chance to be your voice. I Love You. With that, he slipped the ring back into her finger. The girl finally smiled.
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