STAR TREK: THE CROUTON GENERATION
			  SEASON TWO
			Episode #83 - 84

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Date: Thu, 7 Feb 91 17:12:53 -0500
From: donaghey@husc9.harvard.edu (Thomas Donaghey)
Subject: EPISODE ***LONG*** (23000+ chrs)

Here it is...
Captain's Log, Supplemental. The ship's routine has not yet returned to normal
after yesterday's attack by the Lucky Charms. Lieutenant Commander McDonagh
is still in sick bay. Dr. Hertzman reports that he has completely thrown off
his psionic link with the Lucky Charms vessel, which we think was made during
the earlier attack, but that his successful use of this link to destroy the
attackers' defenses has left him in serious condition--and it seems to be
worsening. In addition, those who gave him psionic support during the attack
have been suffering headaches since yesterday's events: Counselor Jiapa has
had to be admitted to sick bay with an empathetic migraine.

[Scene: A dirt trail in the Muir Woods of Northern California with improbable-
looking doors stuck into redwood trees here and there along the path. A post-
breakfast Captain Kabeta is chatting with Cdr. Scribonia the Illegible.]

Kabeta: ...I don't believe I've seen these holos before.

Scribonia: Idea of the Chief Engineer's. It's kind of an interesting idea,
though. Based on the idea of the holo deck, only he's done it with corridors
instead. Relaxing, he says.

Kabeta: Very relaxing, I must say. I'm impressed. I--Aaugh!

[Kabeta and Scribonia now appear to be in a flaming pit with lots of bubbling
pools, and all the doors have been replaced by grinning demons with tridents.]

Scribonia: Very relaxing, yes, Captain.

Kabeta [very very perplexed and startled]: Gaack! What's happened to the doors?

Scribonia: I think you're supposed to walk up to one of the demons and tweak
its nose. Then walk into the yawning chasm. Sometimes I think McDonagh has an
overactive imagination. ...Well, perhaps not at the moment.

[They now appear to be waist-deep in mud. A sign reads: "Welcome to Borneo."]

Kabeta: I think I'd better talk to the Chief Engineer as soon as he's recover-
ed. I don't care how relaxing it is, mud is not regulation.

[A hippo standing off to the side appears to speak. Its voice sounds awfully
familiar, in a mechanical sort of way.]

Pandora [the Ship's Computer]: Actually mud is regulation in a few places where
they can't get away from it. Places like the Fupklig cluster and Inner Manxiln.
And Borneo. Besides which, the Lieutenant Commander's condition seems to be
worsening. The Speaker for the Dead has deemed it necessary to have the ship's
hull repainted.

Scribonia: The Speaker for the Dead? That's weird--I didn't think he went in 
for that kind of thing. I noticed the hull read "USS Llama's Undershorts" this
morning, but I thought that was Daneel's handiwork. And what's it got to do
with McDonagh's health?

Pandora: I'll give you a hint. The hull now reads "USS Heisenberg."

Kabeta: What what what? Computer, explain please.

Pandora [still looking rather hippoid]: Ask the Speaker--he's on the bridge.
Besides, what would I know about sign-painting? I'm just a simple Bornean
hippo. [twirls] Wouldn't I look just lovely in a tutu?

Kabeta: This means something, Scribonia. Mark my words.

Scribonia: Ten out of ten, Captain.

Kabeta [glaring]: Thank you, *Commander.*

The sound of running, somewhat slurpy footsteps approaches, and becomes a
harried Lt. Guillaume de Fontaine, who is madly dashing through what still
looks like mud with a sheaf of madly flapping pages, and who neatly bowls
over a somewhat startled Captain Kabeta.

Kabeta [invisible and somewhat muffled beneath the holomud]: Oof. Yow ow ow. 
First Officer, I hereby charge you to find that librarian and have him defene-
strated posthaste.

Scribonia: May I remind the captain that such an action would probably not have
a beneficial effect on the lieutenant's physical well-being?

Kabeta [emerging, but utterly covered in holomud]: At the moment his actions
are scarcely having a beneficial effect on *my* physical well-being. --Oh, all
right. Belay that order, but get me out of this.

[The scene changes abruptly to the interior of a large pillow-making factory
with lots of geese waddling about. Kabeta is now covered in feathers instead of
mud.]

Kabeta: And find me the Speaker. I'm getting to the bottom of this. [Scribonia
stifles a giggle; Kabeta attempts a glare but a feather floats into her nose
and she sneezes instead.] Figuratively, Commander. Figuratively.

Scribonia [poker face]: Of course, Captain.


                        "TEA AND CRUMPETS"

Written and generally thunk up by Thomas "Where's my tea" Donaghey

Directed and generally ordered about by the Sirious Sybernetics Keystonekorps

Starring the crew of Heisenberg as themselves; and Ralph the Wonder as both the
entire population of a galaxy entirely ignored in this episode, and as gofer.

Special Guest Stars:

	Elvis (still not dead) as Sir Not-Appearing-In-This-Film
	Dr. Seuss as Uncle Terwilliger
	Fiona as Herself
	Rowan Atkinson as Professor Neddy C. Goon

A product of ORIN PRODUCTS, Scotland. "From ORIN minds come ORIN PRODUCTS."


[Scene: The Bridge. Lts. Kleber, Lin-Elenuial, and de Fontaine are examining
documents.]

de Fontaine: ...Well, plotting destination coordinates is a little different
for the uncertainty drive. This report here indicates that, at least in early
trial efforts, trying to plot the destination using standard coordinates in-
variably lands the ship at [flipping pages] Murmansk airport on Earth. Since
we probably don't want to go to Murmansk, or anywhere near it--

[He is interrupted by the arrival of Kabeta and Scribonia. The Beach-Blanket-
Babylon-style hats they seem to be wearing disappear as they enter the room.]

Ensign O'Forever [obviously]: Captain on the bridge.

Kabeta [brusquely]: Status report, Mr. Kleber.

Kleber [startled]: Captain, we are preparing the Uncertainty Drive. It is a
matter of the utmost importance that we take Lt. McDonagh home to Rubber
Chicken as soon as possible, with your permission of course, and this seemed
the fastest possible way.

Kabeta: Why haven't you consulted me?

Lin-Elenuial: Captain, I am as guilty of that as is the Speaker, but we will
not activate the drive without your express order. But Torvald McDonagh is in
danger of his life and must return home for emergency medical care. I know.
I've had a splitting headache about it all morning.

Kabeta: Dr. Hertzman said he'd be fine.

Speaker: I do not know that Dr. Hertzman has encountered psionic trauma of this
magnitude before.

Kabeta [to ic]: Captain Kabeta calling sickbay.

Dr. Hertzman [ic]: Sickbay, Captain.

Kabeta: How is Torvald, Doctor? Any improvement?

Hertzman [ic]: Unfortunately the reverse. His condition is deterioriating, he
cannot maintain consciousness and I'm already doing everything I can for him.
To be frank, Captain, I'm worried that he may not pull through.

Kabeta: I see. Thank you, Doctor.

Speaker: I know and Torvald knows that he needs medical attention we cannot
give him to repair the psionic damage he has undergone. If he does not get it
quickly, he will die.

Kabeta: And you are agreed on this?

[The Speaker and Lin-Elenuial nod; so too, after a brief pause, does de Fon-
taine. Kabeta thinks for a few sections; then her eyes harden.]

Kabeta: Mr. O'Forever, can you compute our ETA to the planet Rubber Chicken?

O'Forever [leafing through de Fontaine's memos]: Right away, Captain. [He
touches a few switches, then sits back. The bridge lights dim, the camera
rocks and everybody in sight dives over or under a piece of furniture. Suddenly
camera cuts to Matt Ender's darkened room; Matt Ender is sitting cross-legged
in what McDonagh named "The Cat-Bird Seat" with a blissful expression on his
avia-feline features as blue lightening cracks outside his window and neon
reflections play across his face. The camera, still rocking, half-mixes to
the sight of a flying feathered cat against the window, holds five seconds,
and cuts back to the bridge, where the lights blink up and the camera stops
rocking.]

Kabeta [pulling herself out from under a chair]: I can only assume, Ensign,
that when you said "Right away" you meant the ETA itself.

O'Forever [shrugging]: I thought it was obvious.

Voice [booming though the bridge in a hard-to-place Anglo-Irish accent]: In
the words of a famous old statesman: The question is moot!

Speaker [putting two and two together]: Well *moot,* sir, whoever you are.

Lin-Elenuial [wryly]: And the rest of us stand here *mute.*

Voice: Very good! That's the *bon moot* for today, then. I am Q. Terwilliger
McDonagh, and I understand you have a nephew of mine aboard. Why don't you
send him down? We've been expecting you for tea.

Kabeta [wondering]: You've been expecting us for tea?

Terwilliger [not booming so much now as he was]: Of course. Besides, [mis-
chieviously] I understand my nephew is dying for a cup of tea. Come along now.
It's a short *commoot.*

Kabeta: Right. Away team: myself, Lt. Lin-Elenuial, Lt. Kleber and of course
Lt. McDonagh. Roger that, Sickbay?

Hertzman [ic]: I'm not sure I like it, but I'll go along with it. Standing by.

Kabeta: Croutonizer room? Prepare to remote... [She is startled to find that
she, Iluvanna, and the Speaker are decroutonizing already; a quick cut to
sickbay reveals that patient and gurney are doing likewise. They find them-
selves materializing in a formal dining hall, and are met by Uncle Terwilliger,
a tallish, balding, thin, slightly stooped man with pointed ears, a benevolent
smile and a bathrobe over shirt, tie and trousers, who is puffing on a meer-
schaum pipe.

Terwilliger: Ah, here you are. So nice to meet all of you. [Calls] Fiona!
Our guests have arrived! [A middle-aged woman appears, beaming; she notices
McDonagh on the gurney and bustles over to him.]

Fiona [gaily]: Torvald? Teatime, Torvald. [Torvald is unresponsive; his face
is grey and gaunt. Fiona gives a significant look to Terwilliger as the crew
members share a nervous glance.] Willie, be a dear and toss a little tea this
way. [The lid opens off of a teapot, and a mouthful of tea splashes out of
the pot, sails across the room, and lands in McDonagh's mouth which drops open
to catch it. His face loses some of the greyness and he groggily sits up.]

McDonagh [thickly]: Ugg. Dorothy was right. There is no place like home. [Lin-
Elenuial looks surprised and feels his brow with relief--his headache has
vanished. He looks at McDonagh with a querying eye, to no response.]

Terwilliger: Well, look, let's sit down or it'll get cold. [He leads the way
to the table; Kabeta, the Speaker and Iluvanna find their seats. McDonagh,
now looking only slightly unwell, gets up unsteadily and, leaning on Fiona,
makes his way to the table.]

McDonagh: Thanks, Mum. I needed that.

Kabeta: How are you feeling, Torvald?

McDonagh: Oh, spiffing. I expect I could take on the both of you, Captain.
[squints] Oh, so there's only one of you after all. Just as well. I'd have
had the worst time figuring out the command structure. [picks up a cup, fills
it with tea and downs it] `Dying for a cup of tea,' eh, Uncle Twiggy? Very
good, very funny indeed. This stuff's just the thing for those nasty headaches.

Terwilliger: Yes, I expect that hit the spot, eh what? [Pouring tea and passing
cucumber sandwiches, he looks around and catches Iluvanna's eye] You would be
the Silmarils operator, wouldn't you? Elen sila lumenn' omentialvo. [Iluvanna
is thunderstruck.]

Kabeta [leaning in]: What was that?

Iluvanna: It means "A star shines on the hour of our meeting." High Elvish.
I haven't heard anyone say those words in years.

Fiona: One advantage of being remote is being able to keep old traditions pure.
I'm not sure whether it's worth the trade-off. More tea?

Speaker [sipping]: I don't think I've ever had this sort of tea before.

Terwilliger: Ah, tea. Yes, well, when our ancestors arrived on this planet they
had only a small supply of tea from Earth, and a ferocious dependence on the
stuff. Primarily cultural, of course, but tea also stimulates the creative mind
quite a bit. And the caffeine content isn't totally insignificant. Anyway,
Great-to-the-nth Grandpa and several others found plants here with leaves suit-
able for making tea. They also found that the new strains of tea were extra-
ordinarily conducive to promoting psionic ability and general mental health and
so on. Much more so than most other teas.

Speaker [drawing his breath in slowly]: I think I begin to understand.

Fiona: It's not that complicated, really. This psionics ability that is preying
so much on your minds right now is actually not so mythical as it may seem. In
truth, every living animal has it to some extent. For example, it's linked to
pheromones. The trick is bringing it out, and it turned out our ancestors had
to: most of the indiginous animals, both herbivores and carnivores, have the
ability to some extent. What with tea and breeding and behavioral manipulation,
we've brought it out to an enormous extent.

Iluvanna: Behavioral?

McDonagh [looking much improved, and on his fifth cup]: Being silly, for the
most part. It confused those carnivores that could actually read minds and
enabled us to compete for food.

Terwilliger: It's still a matter of pride to take a degree in silliness, even
in these advanced days when computers do most of the psionic work [Iluvanna
looks up at this], though I'm afraid neither my sister nor I have what it
takes. I muddle through with bad puns, but Torvald here seems to have a knack
for silliness.

Kabeta: We've noticed.

Speaker [stonefaced]: We thought it might be some sort of genetic *mootation.*

Terwilliger [terribly pleased]: Ha ha! I heard that one! The feeling is 
*mootual,* my lad, entirely mootual.

Kabeta [strained]: Stop! No more puns! Please! I can't stand it!

McDonagh [with an awful glint in his eye]: Request for information, Captain:
if we refuse to stop, would that be considered--

Kabeta: Hold it. There will be no *mootinies* while I'm in charge. [Looks
just a little surprised and looks at her teacup.]

McDonagh [mock disappointment at losing the pun]: Drat. [grins harmlessly]

Fiona: As a matter of fact, Torvald, I have good news. Your thesis advisor has
announced that as a result of your experiments, most notably with the banana
skins, and the laughing gas, and most lately with the holocorridor art
[Kabeta's jaw drops], the Humour Committee at Douglas Adams University have
voted to award you the R.S. degree. Congratulations, Mister Remarkably Silly!

[The dining-room wall collapses into a fairly small heap of rubble, and the
entire party spin around to see about a dozen people jump out wearing false
noses and singing "Ying tong ying tong ying tong ying tong ying tong yiddle-i-
po." This over, the one in the most mind-bending suit (complete with bathrobe)
pulls off his false nose to reveal a real one just as large and almost as 
utterly ludicrous, and comes over to shake Torvald's hand while jumping up and
down. McDonagh, now looking as healthy as ever, jumps up and down as well, and
this devolves into a game of leapfrog all around the table as the rest of the
away team look on in amazement and disbelief.]

Prof. Neddy C. Goon: Ye've dun it, me lad, ye've dun it! Let me be the first to
say I don't know why you bothered. Step this way and we'll whip through the
degree ceremony. Come on, everybody, come on, plenty of room. [The entire party
get up from the table, the university fellows and McDonagh doing a truely
bizarre silly walk, and follow Prof. Goon through the wall and down a corridor,
out the door and into bright sunshine. The away team notice that the building
they have just left looks just like a house-sized teabag, and is surrounded by
similar teabags (some fresh, some used). The building the procession seems to
be headed for looks like an enormous cup set at a funny angle: a legend on it
reads "NUTRIMATIC." McDonagh's mother and uncle are at the end of the proces-
sion.]

Terwilliger: Fiona, I'm so terribly proud. It isn't just the degree--I'm just
amazed he was strong enough, despite his lack of training, to best the Charms.

Fiona: I remember the time the Charms attacked here. I was more than twice as
old as Torvald is now, I'd finished my mental training, and I barely made it.

Terwilliger: I'm going to give him the last textbooks tonight. The Council will
understand--he's ready for them.

Fiona: One of the youngest ever, isn't he? He's not even twenty decades old.

[Captain Kabeta has fallen back a bit, away from the silliest of the group, and
has overheard the end of the conversation.]

Kabeta: Two hundred? How long are your years?

Fiona: What is it--368 Earth days, I think. 356 Rubber chicken days. Not very
different.

Terwilliger: Captain Kabeta, you should know that the two of us followed your
last battle. You yourself performed quite well, I thought.

Kabeta [surprised]: Well, we were lucky.

Fiona: No, not really. You believed Lin-Elenuial when he told you Torvald was
an unknowing spy under Charmed influence, and still you trusted him to work
against them, you put all the psionics you could find at his disposal, and you
used his gifts to dispatch your foe in an unobvious, silly, and very effective
way.

Kabeta [confused]: What are you saying? I'm not a psion...or a telepath...

Terwilliger: Well, as I said, everybody is psionic to some degree; most people
just never notice it. We've got records of demonstrated psionic ability from
old Earth, unknowingly recorded by our ancestors at the BBC before they emigra-
ted out here. Turns out some animals, like dolphins, were really amazingly
sensitive, far beyond us in many ways, but we never figured it out before we
got here and were confronted with psychic carnivores, wolves in particular.

Kabeta [weakly]: Wolves. I'm hearing too much about wolves these days.

Terwilliger [instantly contrite]: I do apologize. I go off on tangents all the
time. Where was I? Oh yes. Well my point is that you can't write off what 
talent you have, for obscure though yours may be, it is all the more valuable
for that.

Fiona: If you will permit--[she reaches into a pocket and pulls out a small
bound volume]--I should like you to have this. Read it. I think it will lend
you some...understanding. And I think it will prove valuable to you. --And
lest I forget [producing more smallish books], here are others, this one for
Lin-Elenuial, this one for your Speaker, and this one for the alien Matt Ender.
I think they will each prove valuable. I trust you to deliver them.

Kabeta [flustered, accepting the books]: Thank you. You are too kind, Mrs.
McDonagh. Mr. McDonagh.

[The group enters the Nutrimatic Cup under a sign reading "Because he's a 
stupid monkey who doesn't know any better." Speaker's voice heard: "Cute."
The procession now enters a large lecture hall gussied up via holos to look
like the Old Bailey in London. McDonagh is placed in the dock, his family and
crewmates are herded into the witness stalls and the university fellows file
into the jury box. Professor Goon jumps into a ridiculous wig and gown and
pole-vaults into the judge's seat. The crew look around the room: the stalls
are filled with students wearing Groucho Marx glasses.]

Lin-Elenuial [in a whisper]: This is eerie. I don't think I like this.

Kabeta: I don't understand this at all.

Speaker: It'll turn out all right. I hope.

Prof. Goon [ex officio]: Members of the jury, have you reached a verdict?

Fellows of the University [in unison]: NO!

Goon: I'm sorry, I'll read that again. Members of the jury. Have you reached
a verdict?

Fellows [again in unison]: YES. WE FIND THE DEFENDANT GUILTY AS CHARGED.

Goon: So noted. Defendant, have you anything to say in your own defense before
I pass sentence?

McDonagh [grinning]: Yes, m'lud. I wasn't myself, I'm not myself now, I'm not
sure who I'll be later on today and if released I hereby promise to go out and
do it all over again.

Goon: Duly noted. The defendant, Q. Torvald McDonagh, holder of Extremely
Competent and [mock horrified] Perhaps Too Competent [hisses and boos from the
gallery] degrees in engineering and of a Very Silly degree Indeed in Social
Ingenueering, has been found guilty of Extreme Silliness in the call of duty
and in this last subject. I shall now pronounce the sentence. [enunciating
carefully in stentorian tones] The Raaiin in Spaaiin Falls Maaiinly in the
Hills. [wild applause from the gallery] Thank you, thank you. Defendant is
sentenced to a Remarkably Silly degree in Social Ingenueering from this uni-
versity. Hear hear. [Chorus of "Hear hear" from the audience.]

Lin-Elenuial [musing]: I would have expected something more like Pomp and
Circumstance, and that at the least.

Kabeta: Shush.

Goon [continuing]: Defendant, you are hereby released from the stigma of the
PTC degree and subsequent temporary exile henceforth. Will you accept a posi-
tion on the faculty? We may not make sense, but we do like pizza.

McDonagh [surprised]: Thank you, sir, but for the time being my duty lies
elsewhere.

Goon: Duly noted. You are hereby given the title of Roaming Professor of this
university, and are free to go. [Hits McDonagh over the head with a rubber
chicken.]

Lin-Elenuial [sourly]: Figures.

[McDonagh leaps out of the dock, still holding the rubber chicken, as every
other member of the university scrambles madly for the exits. In a moment he
is left with his parents and crewmates.]

Kabeta: Torvald, we're all proud of you, really, but I don't think we can
stand more than another few minutes here.

Terwilliger: Torvald, it was good to see you again. Your mother and I have
decided to give you the last textbooks [he holds out three slim volumes] and
a store of tea to see you through them. [He reaches behind a pew and pulls out
a full duffel bag. Torvald takes the books as if they were ten-pound diamonds.]

McDonagh: The last textbooks! But Uncle Wiggly [Terwilliger cringes at this
misuse of his much-maligned name], I'm not even--

Fiona: You're ready for them, Torvald. [Turning to the others] It's been a
pleasure meeting you all. Farewell and bon voyage.

Terwilliger: And enjoy the books. There's plenty of tea to go around.

[The crew find themselves decroutonizing, and recroutonize on the bridge.]

Scribonia: Good trip? [looks at McDonagh, with his tea, rubber chicken, books
and huge smile] Looks like it. Glad to have you back with us, Lieutenant. You
had us all very worried.

McDonagh: Thanks. ...I'm feeling a bit tired. I'll be asleep if anybody wants
me. [Exits.]

Kabeta: Weird trip, Scribonia. Let's get the ship under way, shall we? [Thinks
of something] Damn! We forgot to bring the guerney back with us!

[The guerney materializes instantaneously, with a "sprongg," on top of Kabeta's
chair. Everybody stares at it.]

Scribonia [echoing]: Weird trip.

Kabeta: Right. Remove that thing. Right now I'm thinking McDonagh has an ex-
cellent idea. [yawns] Oh yes--here's a book for you, Lin-Elenuial, and one for
you, Kleber, and while you're at it please see that Matt Ender gets this one.
They're from Torvald's mother. [Exits; Lin-Elenuial yawns and follows. Kleber
almost exits too, but then notices O'Forever still staring at the gurney.]

O'Forever [dreamily]: Eddies in the space-time continuum.

Kleber: Who?

O'Forever [looking up]: Oh, nothing. Just popped into my head.

Kleber: Ah.

-----------------
Date: Fri, 8 Feb 91 00:34:26 -0500
From: ender2@husc9.harvard.edu (-8  %->  [:  =:-)
Subject: ST:TCG sub-episode

(Note:  Junkies, I don't know if you have the episode this is based in yet.
 If you don't, wait.  You'll understand it better then, if at all.)

And without further delay...

During another episode on Staaaaaaaaaar Trek:  The Crouton Generation:
 
 
                "Bird's Eye View"
 
By Matt Ender
 
To be inserted in the episode "Tea and Crumpets" by the Second-Most Left
Honourable Mr. McDonaghey, during the use of the Uncertainty Drive
 
[Camera shot of the bridge.]
 
Kabeta:  Mr. O'Forever, can you compute our ETA to the planet Rubber Chicken?
 
O'Forever [leafing through de Fontaine's memos]: Right away, Captain.
          [He reaches for a bank of switches.]
 
[Camera cuts to Matt Ender's darkened room.  A single candle illuminates
 his face as he stares intently at the flame.  Suddenly, the camera rocks.
 His eyes shoot open, gazing blankly at the candle and no longer focusing
 on it.  The camera rocks, and we switch to the bird's eye view:  from the
 mind of the alien.
 
 The walls and the furniture as torn away by a howling wind, leaving Matt
 floating motionless in space, a single point of light in from of him his
 only reference.  Matt's camera view blinks.  The candle stretches, and
 begins to wrap around itself while collapsing.  The candle remains lit as
 its form approaches a tiny, inexplicable knot, which pulls itself together,
 and vanishes from view.
 
 In the same instant as the 'candle' disappears, the winds calm, and the view
 shifts abruptly to the turbulent skies above an unnamed planet.  The effect
 is rather odd in three dimensions.  The view appears to be:  three-
 dimensional, flat in all dimensions, each rotating at a different speed.
 When the 'flat' side of any dimensional passes through, there is a quick
 burst of electricity.  Colors wash over the scene and one another in an
 endless rainbow.  The only sound comes from a flying thing, about two meters
 long.  It looks exactly like a panther, save for the large, leathery wings.
 As it passes, we hear a growl and it dives towards some target on the
 ground.
 
 We hear voices, strange and alien, fading in and out over each other.  They
 are distorted independently of each other.]
 
Voice 1:  ... push all your energy to one point.  I know there's resis ...
Voice 2:  ... financial imbalance.  The watoosie.  The tw ...
Voice 3:  ... ensile forms of our ancest ...
Voice 4:  ... try again.  Warp the space-fabric to your will ...
Voice 5:  ... cellent!  "Matt Ender", listen carefully.  You must ...
Voice 6:  ... like to come and meet us, but he thinks he'd ...
Voice 7:  ... are the Elders.  Focus on my vo ...
Voice 8:  ... no use.  We must show him the hard way.  We ...
Voice 9:  ... number nine, number nine, number nine, num ...
Voice 10: ... "Matt" to prepare for sensory input ...
 
[The scene shifts to another, even more incomprehensible.  The three
 dimensions, turn and simultaneously go 'flat'.  The entire camera view is
 full of moving color spots, save one intensely white dot in the exact center.
 The colors form into a seemingly infinite corridor, along which the alien
 is (again, seemingly) propelled at ever-increasing speeds towards the white
 light.]
 
Scenes (as we pass through them):  A blue-painted room, with a clear voice
 reading the translation patterns from High Elvish to Ancient Icelandic,
 Jarthorp dialect.  A 7-foot cat, standing on two feet, clothed in a neutral
 gray robe, speaking of the self as an endless sea of light.  Utter blackness.
 Looking out from someone sitting in a chair, a 6-hypercube, brightly
 colored, floating nearby.  [The scenes are now zipping by fairly quickly.]
 An Elder, form of a static field, instructing his student to think of
 nothing.  A second Elder, form of a blue shade in the general vicinity,
 demonstrating how to scan quantum probability waves in lower dimensions.
 Underground, a Faery king gazing into a crystal.  Argent, a jewelled cup
 Gules.  An overbearing mental force, leaving the subject just short of
 collapse.  Bodhisattva-Cravaka-San-t'ung-ch'i-Hsin-hsin-ming- [The scenes
 are now going by too fast to notice.  Nothing is intelligible (to the
 _human_ viewer) save a single clear, calm voice rising above the babble.]
 
Last Voice:  Improbability factor 2 to the Aleph Null to 1 against and
             holding.  "Matt Ender" PREPARE FOR MENTAL INPUT.
 
[The camera slams into the white horizon, which fills the whole screen.  The
 sounds of ten thousand voices simultaneously crescendoes to an almost
 intolerable peak.  The picture simultaneously breaks into ten thousand
 parts, and half spin clockwise and half spin counterclockwise.  After all
 of these things happen, the sound cuts off, and the whiteness fades out
 to reveal the room again.  Matt Ender is sitting cross-legged in what
 McDonagh named "The Cat-Bird Seat" with a blissful expression on his
 avia-feline features.  The candle, twisted and knotted, stands in front of
 him, still lit.  The camera cuts back to the bridge.]