Things had been pretty quiet through the night. The only oddities were the occasional "burps" from different speakers which where on property (computer speakers, Diskman earphones or speakers, walkman radios, Speakerphones), occasional flashes from an unattended monitor or a sheet of paper fed through a printer for no reason. Once Section Security decided it was not sabotage from outside, or inside, Section, it became a problem for maintenance. Unfortunately, by morning, Maintenance was pulling out it's collective hair trying to figure out what was happening.

As every clocks changed to 6:59 a.m., every speaker in the place erupted with the song:

"I'm so glad we had this time together,
just to have a laugh or sing a song;
Seem we just get started and before you know it,
comes the time we have to say 'Good-bye,'"

sung in the voice of Carol Burnett. In the background, barely audible over the song was the sounds of surprise not limited to clipboards being dropped, squeaks of fear from the unsuspecting, a couple of chairs falling over and choice cuss words.

Michael arrived at the end of the song and saw everyone in an uproar. Some people were checking connections, others were checking the machines and, still others, were typing furiously at their terminals. Every one of them with the same goal in mind: to find the source of the music.

Michael walked over to Simon, who had pulled the graveyard shift, and demanded, "What just happened?"

"Don't know," he continued typing with a vengeance, "'what we are trying to find out."

"Where's Birkoff? Does he know about this?" Michael leaned forward, resting the palms of his hand on the desk edge of the terminal station. The second his skin touched the metal, all of the speakers began spewing forth the song, "Secret Agent Man" with full instrumentals and stereo sound. Everyone winced and worked even harder.

"NO, HE HASN'T ARRIVED YET," Simon yelled, "HE IS NOT SCHEDULED TO COME IN FOR ANOTHER COUPLE OF HOURS YET...." the music ended, "....I HAVE CONTacted him to tell him we have a situation. He wanted to know what it was, but how could I explain this??"

"Fine, have him contact me when he comes in. We have to get to the bottom of this." Michael turned away and went to his office. When he entered the room the song "Secret Agent Man" played again, but this time only from those speakers within his office. 'This could get a little annoying,' he thought to himself.

**************

Sitting at his desk, Michael switched on his computer only to be greeted by:

"Michael, Michael, He's our man;
If he can't do it no one can....."

flashing on the screen. "Sh*t," he said, as he rebooted his system, "When I find out who is doing this...." He was ready to run an anti-viral program, but it booted up with no sign of anything having happened previously. Running the program anyway, he found nothing wrong with the system.

Just then, Operations entered Section and everyone in the place knew it had to be him because the place was filled with:

"The Devil went down to Georgia,
he was looking for a soul to steal;
He was in a bind, 'cause he was way behind,
and looking to make a deal."

followed with a shout of "WHAT THE HELL. . . ?"

Michael smiled to himself at his desk and thought, "This may not be too bad after all." He got up, shut off his computer, and headed towards the Observation Deck, knowing he would be called shortly. "Who ever was doing this was good," Michael thought, climbing the stairs. Entering the room, the speakers played "Secret Agent Man," then went silent.

"Well??" Operations demanded.

"I just arrived. According to this report, nightcrew said that this didn't start until 6:59 this morning. The night was quiet accept for a few "burps" from speakers, monitor flashes, blank pages from printer. Security found no intrusion; external or internal. At this time, there is no clue as to what is going on."

"I want to know what is going on and I want to know it yesterday!" Operations demanded. Just then, the speakers in the room coughed and started playing, "Return to Sender," as a sheet of paper fell from nowhere above their heads and into Michael's hands. Turning it to read his face went white. It read....

"....and headed towards the Observation Deck, knowing he would be called shortly.

"Who ever was doing this was good," Michael thought, climbing the stairs. Entering the room, the speakers played "Secret Agent Man," then went silent.

"Well??" Operations demanded.

"I just arrived. According to this report, nightcrew said that this didn't start until 6:59 this morning. The night was quiet accept for a few "burps" from speakers, monitor flashes, blank pages from printer. Security found no intrusion; external or internal. At this time, there is no clue as to what is going on."

"I want to know what is going on and I want to know it yesterday!" Operations demanded. Just then, the speakers in the room coughed and started playing, "Return to Sender," as a sheet of paper fell from nowhere above their heads into Michael's hands. Turning it to read his face went white. It read....

His hand shook as he handed it to Operations. "This is impossible...." Operations said, his face and voice grim.

******************

Everyone was just finishing up the second check when Madeline arrived. Of course, everyone knew someone new was there. They all stopped and listened to the song as it played:

Cruella DeVille, Cruella DeVille......

They were placing wagers on who it was, when Madeline turned the corner to the main room. "Yessss," was heard in the background along with laughs and comments of, "Of course.....couldn't have been anyone else.....now that you think of it.....Pay up"

Madeline went straight to her office, threw her things on her desk, and went straight to the Observation Deck. Ignoring the song which erupted from the speakers of each room she entered, she stomped up the stairs and entered the Deck.

"WHAT THE H*LL IS GOING ON..." she shouted over the music.

Neither Operation nor Michael bothered to speak until the music ended. Michael hid a smile under his hand when she walked in and the song, "Cruella DeVille," had started to play. "Damn, who ever is doing this definitely has both a sense of humor, and a sense of the personalities of this place." he thought to himself.

"We have no idea what is going on," Operations stated emotionlessly. "It is almost as if the place is haunted. Not only is there this music, which seems to have a theme for some of the people, but this fell out of nowhere from the ceiling..." He hands Madeline the page in his hand.

Madeline reads the page, looks from Michael to Operations, "And?"

"And," Operations continues, "everything on that page had just happened before it fell from the ceiling...."

The color, what little there was to begin with, drained from Madeline's face as she slid down into a chair. Not a word was spoken. The three of them looked out over Section's main "war room" and watched everyone working to find out what had happened.

About an hour later, things remained quiet. That is to say, everything remained quiet as long as Michael, Operations, and Madeline remain in the one room. There had been no further themes played and, finding nothing, people had begun to go back to projects which were needed done.

*****************

Waiting tensely, Michael, Operations, and Madeline began to discuss the profile of a mission coming up. Operations thumbed his terminal on, and across the screen flashed:

Nanny, nanny, boo, boo,
Ops is filled with poo poo;
'love to watch him sit and stew,
so sent some backhills Mountain Dew....hic!

Suddenly, the smell of alcohol filled the air and Michael turned towards Operations when he heard a splash to see him soaked. "What...." Madeline asked, having seen the liquid appear over Ops' head.

Operation flipped a switch transferring what was on his monitor to the holoscreen. Sniffing and tasting his lapel, he proclaims, "Tennessee White Lightning."

"Better go get cleaned up." Madeline suggests. She had a smirk on her face even though she is still unnerved and the color, what little there was, had not returned to her face. "I have several suits in the store room in your size."

They both leave the Observation Deck and the harshest sounds come out all the speakers in the main area. No knows what to make of it until they realize that it is both "Cruella DeVille" and "The Devil Went Down To Georgia" playing at the same time.

While Michael is studying a mission profile up in the O.D. and Madeline and Operations are in her office getting him cleaned up, Birkoff finally arrived. Entering to the song of:

	"There creepy and their kooky,
		Mysterious and spooky;
	Their altogether ooky,
		The Addams Family."

Birkoff waved off people as they all but ran to him. He had no time for anyone who would have been unable to aid in finding out what was happening to HIS babies. Turning killer looks on and staring down those who had the nerve to giggle, he headed straight to his console. He knew Operations would be yelling for him shortly, and he wanted to know as much as possible before that happened. Simon walked up to him, "No sign of any rogue programs or viruses; NOT just the computer and telephone equipment either..... each and every item..... everything which has a speaker, plays the music."

"Must be some sort of short range broadcaster, then," Birkoff stated flatly. "Have you bothered to test for it." He looked up at Simon with a look he usually reserved for people still using an 8086 from Radio Shack.

"Of course, that was the first thing I did. Not a sign of on anywhere." he replied, feeling the heat of Birkoff's stare.

"Fine, I let Madeline talk me into moving into an apartment outside of headquarters and the first night I am gone....all hell breaks loose." He slams his fist in the solid steal of the console, then pats the spot he just punched as though apologizing. "Ok, update me on exactly what happened.

*******************

Simon quickly brings Birkoff up to speed as Birkoff takes his place at his terminal. Punching in a series of commands, he's screen goes blank; then the following appears on the screen:

"What is the thinnest book in the world?",

and the cursor stopped, sitting, blinking two lines down.

"What the....?" Birkoff typed in the command for a series of vaccines to start.

On the screen, the message: "Sorry, your answer is wrong. Please try again." and the camera monitoring for the War Room shorted out with sparks and a loud hissing.

Birkoff cussed under his breath and moved to another station. The second he sat down, the screen went blank except for the same message as the first. Birkoff spun his chair, each monitor he looked at repeated what the first two did. Turning back to his station, he tried again, "Override AutoFunction, Ident: 553OpB6."

Again he received: "Sorry, your answer is wrong. Please try again." This time a loud echoing POP sounded from the entrance hall and Birkoff looked over to one of the monitors as it went black.

Birkoff jumped when every speaker in the War Room exploded with sound. He recognized it as "I Need A Man" by the Eurythmics. As Nikita entered the War Room, everyone heard:

I don't need a heartbreaker,
fifty face double maker,
two timing tom taker,
dirty little money maker,
muscle bound cheapskate,
low down woman hater,
dripping dozen double dater,
yellowedbellied alligator.

There were snickers, and even Birkoff had to smirk at that one. Nikita walked over to Birkoff and was about to ask what was going when he stopped her by saying, "I have no idea. I can't even get passed this question to get into the computer."

Nikita looked over his shoulder at his screen, read the question and laughed, "What Men Know About Women."

"What?"

"The answer to the question: What is the thinnest book in the world?" she grinned at him. "What Men Know About Women."

"You've got to be kidding?" he was dumbfounded and a little nervous to try this answer, but he typed it in.

"Correct.

Level one access granted."

******************

"I don't believe this," Birkoff all but screamed. His hair was all over the place, one of his shirt-tails was untucked from his pants, and he looked as if he hadn't slept for days.....yet it had only been a couple of hours. "Damn, I'm out of Oreos again..... and that was a new pack." He turned and looked accusingly at Michael, Madeline and Nikita standing behind him. They stared back in innocence. He thumbed the comm unit opening a connection to the kitchen. "Oreos, NOW."

"Sir?" was the tinny reply.

Madeline leaned over, smiled motherly at Birkoff, and said to the person at the other end of the intercom, "Private stock, Birk34. Please send it to Station WR1, immediately."

"Yes, ma'am. Right away." the tinny voice replied before switching off of the unit.

"Yeah, right." Birkoff turned back to the console.

Nikita, leaning over to Madeline and whispering so Birkoff wouldn't hear, "Private Stock?"

"It was the only way we could make sure we always had some on hand."

Nikita gave Madeline one of her sly grins, "Have you ever thought of putting him in an Oreo-holic meeting."

"Yes, but then we would have to cancel the meetings after the fact each week." Both their attention returned to Birkoff when they heard a clipboard being slammed down on the desktop.

"Another of those damn questions....." Without saying a word, he moved to one side allowing both Madeline and Nikita to read it. He had given up even the attempt to answer these questions after the second, which caused every camera in all of the 'interrogation' rooms to exploded in a showers of sparks.

"How do you force a man to do sit-ups?"

Madeline and Nikita both giggled and nodded their heads in agreement. In unison, with a big smile, they answered, "Put the remote control between his legs."

Michael turns a dead stare at the both of them. "You two are enjoying this way too much." He stood there