[ For the moment, the video function remains off. Which is a shame, because dem ginger curls. But he's testing the waters, so for now it's only the Scottish brogue that filters over the network. ]

It figures. The one time I dial 999 and nobody bloody answers.

[ It's probably a good thing no one answered; Ashley isn't even sure what he would have said. This was all too surreal already. ]

That's just typical; years of loyal service and putting up with government standards and this is the thanks I get.

So who am I talking to? To whom do I owe the great honour of experiencing this mental clusterfuck, and when do I get to wake up? More importantly, where can I find a pack of cigarettes. Mine's almost out.

[ All things considered, Ashley sounds pretty calm. His tone is light, if a bit annoyed, though the sarcasm that laces his every word runs deep. ]

[Jane is looking at her netbook's camera in a mix of dismay, disbelief, and a definite aura of trying to play along with the cosmic joke.]

Seriously? A question, if I may. If I am to fight, why would they choose a physicist? I mean, seriously, come on. This has got to be a giant joke, and I don't have time for it. I mean, yeah weapons, and all that, and an allowance, but that's easy enough to fake. Either that, or I've gone insane from running around with gods and giant suits of armor belching fire. Would anyone care to confirm this or do I wait for someone to jump out and yell 'Suprise!'?