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"I'm sorry, sir, but without billing information no call can be
completed. Thank you for using TG Intergalactic. Please call again . . . "
"Wait!"
"Yes sir?"
"I think I'm a cop . . . a policeman. I'd like to call 899-fff-igpf-5587."
"And how will that call be . . . "
"Just bill it to them!" he screamed. The burned flesh and broken bone were causing him unbelievable agony.
His entire face and neck seemed to have been burned away.
"Yes sir. One moment. Identification please."
"How the hell should I know, I told you I have amnesia? Wait, wait . . . hey, hold on a moment. I have the
badge number here, it’s . . . IGPF-E 9376"
"One moment."
"IGPF, what's the nature of your emergency?" A new voice asked from the ceiling above his head.
"I'm a cop, my ship crashed and I'm badly burned with broken bones and amnesia."
"I see. Is your ship repairable, or permanently damaged?"
"I think it's a total loss, buddy. Who is this?"
"Desk Sergeant Suffix Madden. Your identification is listed under the name of Inspector Bradley Weaver. Does
that name mean anything to you?"
"I'm . . . uh not sure, maybe. It seems to fit," the man said uncertainly. "Hey, are we going to
sit here talking all day. I need help. I’m a mess."
"A rescue ship has already been dispatched. They will arrive within a few minutes."
"Really? That's fast."
"Ah yes --- well not really. The trip will take them weeks, but at light speed they will arrive almost instantaneously."
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