For once, the Professor, Susan, and Angus had made it safely through the space-time continuum and to their desired destination: present-day, twentieth century Paris, France along the Seine. They had spent the last few hours wandering through the various boulevards and side-walk cafés searching for Stephane Diodé. The search had become an exercise in frustration, so they decided to take a break at one of the cafés, Mme. Pompadour's Royále Café, and have a couple of lattés and croissants.

"Smegging hell! Why is it, the one person who can help identify this Stephane Diodé isn't with us?" Susan complained to the Professor.

"Quite simple, really. There are forces in the universe that preclude Gill's involvement," the Professor responded.

"Who? God? The Time Keeper?" asked Angus.

"No, a force much more powerful than that. The Creative Writing Instructor!! In fact, if I don't do something revealing about my character sometime soon, dire consequences could occur."

"You mean the collapse of the space-time continuum?" asked Angus.

"No, something far worse. The collapse of someone's grade!!!"

"Well, that doesn't resolve the rather small matter of us still having to find Stephane Diodé," Susan tartly replied.

"That does seem to be a problem," the Professor said, as he wistfully gazed out across the Seine. "If only there was someone here who could tell us something, . . . at least provide some sort of hint as to where Diodé may be."

At that moment, a waiter who was refilling coffee and looked remotely like a figure out of a Toulouse-Lautrec painting, walked over to their table.

"I don't mean to intrude, but I thought I overheard you talking about a Stephane Diodé. He used to work here, but got fired for incompetence. He sat about reading literature instead of taking care of customers. Also he claimed to have management ability, as well as computer expertise. But all he did was make a mess of our financial records and completely destroy all of our computer equipment. Personally, I don't think he could tell the difference between C++ and Canal+. Anyway, he lives across the river in a small flat; I think the address is 486 Rue de Roussel Uclaf. Does that help?"

"You're Absolutely Fabulous darling!" said the Professor, and jumped out of his chair, grabbing his umbrella and hat. "Come, we haven't a moment to spare." He tossed a few Francs on the table and headed for the street.

"Oi, Professor, we haven't even finished our croissants," mumbled Angus, with his mouth full of food.

The Professor glanced back impatiently. Susan grabbed Angus by the scruff of the neck and dragged him out onto the sidewalk, but not before he grabbed the last few remaining croissants.

As they reached the dilapidated block of flats, they noticed an inscription which read: Salle Notre Dame.

"Smeg, this place looks as if it hasn't been remodeled since the French Revolution!" Susan commented, as they entered the building.

Located in the entrance-way was a tenant directory. The Professor scanned it, and came across the name: Diodé -- Apt. 3.1.

"Let's take the lift," the Professor said, pressing the up arrow with the tip of his umbrella.

All three then stood there for what seemed like an eternity, as clanking and wheezing sounds were heard, but no elevator appeared. So instead, they decided to take the stairs, which was an even more horrifying experience, as Angus did battle with a number of large rodents.

"Oh, great mother of Haggis! These sure fooking aren't Mickey Moose!" exclaimed Angus.

"Perhaps that's why EuroDisney never caught on here," the Professor replied wryly.

When they reached the apartment, the Professor tapped on the door with his umbrella. As he did so the door opened. He peered around the corner and called: "Hello, M. Diodé?"

But there was no reply. So he opened the door further. The only thing that greeted them was the acrid smell of burned out electronic equipment, and the faint sound of music emanating from a television. As they went further into the dimly lit apartment, they noticed dozens of computers being used for various purposes such as doorstops, coffee tables, bookends, etc., all of which appeared inoperable, and most of which were beyond any hope of repair. The walls were lined with bookcases, and a black and white television with knobs stood in a corner of the room. They began searching the apartment for any trace of where Diodé may have gone.

"You know you could be more helpful, instead of sitting on your bum, watching the smegging TV," Susan snarled at Angus.

"Shhhhhh! It's Annie Lennox's 'No More I Love You's.' Y'know she's the patron saint of Aberdeen. It would be a sin against nature if I didn't watch it," Angus replied. "Hey, who the fook is that? I don't remember him in the video," Angus said, leaning towards the television. "Hey, what's he doing with that computer on his lap? I wonder if it's that Diodé lad . . . ?"

But in that moment a flash of light engulfed the room, and Angus was sucked into the television. The Professor wandered over and said, "I think we should go after him. After you?"

"My God no! After seeing what that horrible monster Diodé has done to the electronic equipment in this room, I'm not getting within 20 meters of the man. Besides, an electro-mechanical device entering another electro-mechanical device seems unnatural, somehow," Susan replied emphatically.

The Professor nodded, clutched his hat to his head, and leaned into the television. In a flash of light he was gone too. Susan watched him doff his hat to Annie Lennox and the men dressed as ballerinas (at least she thought they were men, they could have been very hairy women! -- but who knew with Annie Lennox videos?!), and proceed to make his way to the table where Angus sat with the stranger.

"Oi, Professor, let me introduce you to Stephane Diodé," greeted Angus. I've been telling him about our problems, and how Gill sent us here to find him. But I'm afraid he's unable to help us."

"Your companion is correct, Professor. It seems as though Gill has misled you slightly. I'm not actually a computer scientist, but rather an existentialist computer philosopher, with a specialty in the works of Jean-Benét Auger," Stephane explained.

"But Gill said you were her mentor," the Professor responded perplexedly.

Stephane pushed his glasses further up his nose and blushed. "Well, actually she knew more about computers than I did. It was her brother, Jon, who actually taught her, indirectly. In fact, I learned quite a bit from the code she wrote. So, I guess it's her brother you should be looking for. He can help you more than I can."

The Professor pursed his lips and squinted at Diodé. "Why didn't I just try her brother in the first place? I can be so blind, sometimes," he mumbled under his breath. "All right, but first there's the small matter of getting out of here, and back to your apartment," said the Professor.

"That's no problem really. I figured out a link back to my apartment by using WebTV and my laptop here," Diodé responded. He turned the laptop towards the Professor, and an image of his apartment was on the screen. "You see I can go back any time, but I have several rather angry Frenchmen looking for me for three months rent. So I choose to stay here. Just lean into the screen and you'll be back in no time."

It actually worked. Both Angus and the Professor found themselves back in the apartment with Susan.

"Well, did you find out how to reprogram me?" questioned Susan.

"Afraid not. It turns out this Diodé fellow lied about his computer expertise, he's actually a philosopher. Anyway, he told us to find Gill's brother, something I should have just attempted in the first place," answered the Professor.

"How? No one's seen heads or tails of him for months. This is just smegging great," snorted Susan.

"Well, I seem to recall when we were last together that he mentioned something about working for a Prof. Greg Ogron. Perhaps if I use Diodé's WebTV we'll be able to locate this Ogron chap, and perhaps he can tell us something more about Jon Konsinski's whereabouts. Don't give up hope just yet," replied the Professor.

Indeed, after running a Yahoo search, they found that Ogron was in fact giving a lecture at the École Polytechnique in Paris.

"This is quite convenient," said the Professor aloud. "He's only a few blocks away. This must be one of those happy coincidences found only in short stories."

After negotiating a rather unpleasant encounter with a surly receptionist, actually Greg Ogron's secretary, the Professor and his companions, after waiting around for most of the morning and well into the late afternoon, were finally allowed to speak to Prof. Ogron. This was a bit of a miracle in and of itself, considering the fact that Ogron was often harder to contact than Konsinski. Thus, it would have perhaps been more productive just to ask the secretary in the first place, particularly since his secretary usually knew more than Ogron did. Regardless, they were able to glean some information from Ogron. Apparently, he too had lost contact with Konsinski. In fact, he wasn't even sure if Konsinski had ever worked for him, now that he thought of it. However, he did recall something about Konsinski last being in the Hebrides, and raving about some Russian woman he was with and the Patriarchate. This information led the Professor to believe that if they went to Orkney Island they would be able to find a few more clues.

As the Professor and his companions made their way to the Paris train station, they noticed subtle changes in their surroundings. For instance, the concrete side-walks and streets were now cobblestone, and pedestrians dressed in late nineteenth century fashion and carriages intermingled with present-day twentieth century pedestrians and cars.

"Did you ever get the feeling like you were walking through a Caillebotte painting?" asked Susan.

"It does seem that way, doesn't it? I'm afraid we're currently experiencing time spillage. The rift must be widening," replied the Professor. "We really must hurry."

****

Once the Professor and his companions had made it to Orkney Island, which involved an excruciatingly long trip in the Chunnel and an even more grueling ferry ride, they now found themselves in an overgrown field. They made their way to a farmhouse in the clearing, where they met a farmer, his wife, and a flock of sheep that all looked remarkably similar.

"Hello, I'm the Professor, and these are my companions, Susan and Angus," greeted the Professor, doffing his hat. "I was wondering if you knew anything about a man by the name of Jon Konsinski?"

"Name's Duncan, my wife Dolly. 'Fraid not. Never 'erd of 'im, sorry," replied Duncan. "You may want to try my brother, Duncan, down the road. He may 'ave."

The Professor grinned, doffed his hat, and set off down the road with his companions trailing behind. After a few minutes they encountered a remarkably similar farmhouse, farmer, wife, and flock of sheep. The conversation went in much the same way as the first, and they were again told to ask this farmer's brother, Duncan, on the other side of the moor. On their trek they encountered these oddly familiar farmers, wives, and sheep ten more times, each time with the same response. Susan elbowed Angus and said, "Did you ever get the feeling of déjà vu?"

Angus grinned. They continued on, and eventually came to a wooded area and met a beggar carrying a flute and a bag of smoked salmon. The Professor made the same inquiry. The beggar responded, "Aye, I've seen that nutter out and about. He lives just over there," the beggar pointed into the woods, "in a small wooden shack. You can't miss the place."

The Professor thumped the beggar on the back, grinned, and said, "You, sir, have just helped to save the universe. Thank you kindly!" And with that the Professor marched briskly off into the woods, gesturing for his companions to follow. The beggar stared dumbfoundedly after them.

By the time Susan and Angus had reached the Professor, he had already entered the shack. The inside was cluttered with various stereo and computer equipment, and the walls were lined with shelves holding tens of thousands of records and CDs.

"Come over here, you two. I think I've found something rather interesting. It seems to be a manifesto of some sort," explained the Professor, flipping through the pages.

The Professor held a lengthy, hand-written, bound manuscript entitled: Industrial Music and its Future. He furrowed his brow and said, "It appears to be about the fall of music since the invention of the synthesizer and drum machine. He's taking credit for putting an end to early-80's electronic music such as Eurythmics, Ultravox and Kraftwerk. And apparently he's now off seeking out the purest and most natural forms of music in the universe. It says here to listen to what he has left loaded in his CD player, and see what he means."

Susan went over to the CD player, turned it on, and pressed Play. The shack was instantaneously engulfed in the sounds of Russian monks chanting. Suddenly a mysterious wind blew up out of nowhere, and again in a flash of blinding light, all three found themselves standing in ankle deep snow in the middle of a frozen wasteland. They trudged a little way through the snow, and came upon what appeared to be a monastery. Above its doorway read: "The Borispassky Monastery -- Rovnayaolgagrad, Siberia." A man dressed in full seventeenth century Russian Orthodox clerical vestments stood in the doorway waving to them. The Professor squinted and exclaimed, "I do believe we've found the man we've been looking for. If memory serves me, that is indeed Jon Konsinski. Hmmmm. And he's apparently grown a beard!"