"^*^Monday arrived with a normal British overcast morning sky. The day had come for Amy to find out what had happened to her on Friday. If, that was, ...nyone could possibly know. She picked up her phone and dialled the number on the card she'd been given at the lab."Hello?" came the voice of a smart-sounding woman when the phone was answered on the other end."Hi," Amy said, shakily. "I'm calling for Doctor Michaels." Might I as who you are and why you're calling?" asked the assistant."Yes...my. ”“You could be a soldier. If there’s another war, you’d have an excuse.”“No thanks. If nothing else I’d probably be tossed in the brig for smarting off to my drill sergeant.”“There’s another experience. Jail. Almost as intense I imagine as being shot at and shooting back. You gonna break the law to get that experience.”“No.”“No. So stop with the fucking excuses! You’ve done it. You’ve gotten fucking high. You fucking like it Joe. I think it’s your fucking drug of choice! Mine too, goddamnit!. More

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