A burry-eyed figure half-staggered into the dark office, groping blindly for the light switch.
The sudden bright light caused eyes to slam shut irritably in pain.

Damn, that's too bright.

Instinct propelled the man towards a cluttered bench at the back of the room, hands reaching of their own accord after the canister which paved the way back to the land of the living.

After a terminally long-suffering five minutes, a small red light flashed on, announcing to the increasingly jittery and irritable coffee junkie that his life sustaining brew was ready for the drinking.


Downing four mug fulls of his strong black beverage, the young man awaited the familiar sensation of sense and order to return to his brain.

Fifteen minutes later, he was still waiting.

Blinking rapidly and frowning, he considered this dilemma he now facing.

Attempted to consider.


No jolt into alertness. No flashes of higher brain function.

Maybe he was tireder than he thought. He quaffed down two more cups for good measure.

Still no change.

The young man started to get alarmed. How was he supposed to function without his coffee working the way it was supposed to? How was he supposed to get though the day?

To hell with that; how was he supposed to get through the next twenty minutes?

He made another pot. And another. And another. Aside from a now increasing pressure to answer the call of nature, the was absolutely no effect.

Moving now from alarmed to panicking, he was being forced to consider the prospect of a future where he could never again be a rational, functioning member of society. Why wasn't his precious, familiar, comforting coffee working it's miraculous transformation on him?

Making one last pot of coffee in a last ditch attempt to reach normalicy, Daniel pulled the bag of coffee out of the canister design to resemble a Canopic jar and stared in utter outraged shock.