"Dead? Vi, mine is dead too. What happened to yours?"
"Damned if I know. It was doing some self check or something, seemed to take forever and then . . .nothing. What about yours?"
"Same thing. Have you called MIS yet?"
"Not yet, but I'm getting ready to. I never did trust these things. Give me a typewriter any day."
"Sure Vi. I'll call you right back."
Mary looked up the number for MIS Services, the technical magi- cians in the basement who keep the 3100 Congressional computers alive.
"Dave here, can I help you?" The voice spoke quickly and indif- ferently.
"Mary Wallstone, in Gompers office. My computer seems to be having a little problem . . ." Mary tried to treat the problem lightly.
"You and half of Congress. Listen . . .is it Mary? This morning is going to be a slow one. My best guess is that over 2500 com- puters died a quick death. And you know what that mean."
"No, I don't…" Mary said hesitantly.