It takes a few minutes for Ana to even notice that she is no longer in her apartment, staring slackjawed at her computer. Instead, she is outside, staring slackjawed at her computer. The power cords look as though they've been jammed directly into the ground, but strangely, everything seems to be working as well as it ever does.

Before she can fully process this, Ana notices a group of people gathered seemingly just a few feet away from her. They also have computers plugged into the landscape.

Ana shouts and waves her arms. The others ignore her. She flings stones and lit cigarettes at them. She notices that all of her missiles seem to be disappearing in midair as soon as they leave what might be considered her airspace.

"Ah, but of course," says Ana. In the tradition of sloppy writing everywhere, Ana suddenly has complete and inexplicable understanding of every facet of the world around her.

"Clearly, I have been magically transported near to where those Diarylanders are playing Survivor. I'm not really playing, so of course they can't see me."

"Hmm. I wanted to play, but I missed the application deadline. Somehow, though, here I am. Well, almost, anyway. What a strange, yet somehow appealing, Twist of Fate."

Ana studiously avoids wondering why she, of all people, would be singled out for this honor. Nope. She's got a tidy little plot device worked out for herself, and she's not about to spoil it by thinking about it too much.

Suddenly, the Hand of God appears in the sky! Well, maybe not God, technically. But Ana can sense that whoever it is is going to play a huge role in things around here for the next few weeks. The Hand is writing something, in fiery letters a hundred feet high.

"The year is 2019, and something terrible has happened to you...."

Ana watches the Diarylanders. They stare at the message for a few minutes, reading it silently. Then, they nod, and go to their respective computers and start typing. Ana shrugs her shoulders, and sits down in front of her own machine.

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