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Personal protective field has been deployed. Projected survival outcome
is favorable. Personal protective field holding at 78.9% efficiency. Those were the last blinking words on the
screen, printed before the ship became lifeless and the program stopped.
He faintly remembered investing a great deal of credits in a personal protective field. It was new-tech, advertised
as being able to sustain life, even if the ship was destroyed around it. Well, it was almost put to that very test,
from the look of the ship. But what ship and who was he? His eyes ran around the room and suddenly stopped on a
metal and glass case on the wall which felt important. Happiness and pride radiated in his head as he stared at
the case. The glass cover had exploded in the fire, but the aluminum foam case was still intact. He knew the case
was significant. It was his main source of pride and had the place of honor above the control panel. But why? He
approached the case and gently rummaged through the broken glass until he found a metal object inside. It was a
large tin shield. As he turned it, his heart leaped in his chest. "Intergalactic Police Force" stood
out above all else. Was he a cop? Of course, he must be. Why else would he have a badge? He certainly appeared
to be. The badge also held a badge number, stated that his precinct was Earth, and a number to call in case the
badge was found. Well he was certainly lost and badly needed to be found. He went back to the console and examined
it for some way to call. There was nothing even resembling a communication device to his untrained eyes. He studied
the room around him and moved toward a pile of trash. With some difficulty he lifted the fallen console and forced
it back against the wall. By some miracle it was still alive. He started to reach for a dial, then quit, not knowing
what to touch, twist, or turn. It was amazing how quickly words could become nothing but meaningless symbols. He
knew what most of the words meant, but not together like they were. He concentrated on the simple words first.
He finally pressed the "send" button and waited. Then he waited some more, but nothing happened.
"No help," he mumbled. His voice echoed hollowly around the steel walls of the room, startling him in
its loudness.
"Billing information?" a voice said behind him. He spun around, feeling nauseated at the sudden movement.
He grabbed the edge of the console. There was nobody there.
"Hello?" he called tentatively.
"Yes? How would you like this call to be billed?" He realized that the voice was coming from overhead.
It must be connected with the communicator.
"Uh, can you hear me?"
"Yes sir."
"I've been in an accident. I need help."
"And how would you like this call to be billed?"
"I don't know, I don't even know who I am," the man said in exasperation.
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