Carol Kiefer (left) carefully watches her guests for signs of being sucked into the Interdimensional Vortex (right).

Science Fiction Is Always A Party-Stopper

CAROL'S APARTMENT-- Carol Kiefer doesn't know what to do. The 32-year-old single woman who likes to entertain friends can't seem to host a party without it being disturbed by an interdimensional vortex that inhabits the space between her living room and her dining room.

The vortex, a whirling tear in the fabric of space, has been in the corner of Carol's living room since the day she moved in, and so far she hasn't been able to figure a way to remove it.

"I first tried mixing baking soda, mineral water and anti-graviton particles just like it said in a Martha Stewart magazine," said Carol, "but even though I applied plenty of solution, and I mean plenty, it didn't go away at all. In fact, I think it got kind of bigger. So much for Martha Stewart."

Carol hasn't reported the vortex to the nearby university or to the military. She doesn't want to draw attention from the scientific community, for fear it will affect her social status.

"Those scientists never know how to dress, and I don't want soldiers tramping around on my carpet with their dirty boots" said Carol. "And what will my neighbours think if I start hauling scientific equipment into my suite? The strata council would have a fit!"

Instead, Carol has tried to make the best of the design possibilities the vortex has to offer.

"I've tried softening it up with drapes, wallpaper patterns, and English lace, but whatever I place near its edges keeps getting sucked into its vast emptiness," said a frustrated Carol. "To be honest, that unexplained phenomenon of science is starting to become a multi-dimensional nuisance."

The building superintendent has so far not reacted to Carol's repeated requests for the removal of the vortex.

"When I first looked at the suite he assured me that it was a temporary, minor quantum fluctuation and would be gone within a week," said Carol. "Now he's trying to tell me I'm lucky to have it, and that it's great for getting rid of garbage. Let's get this straight: I do not throw my trash into interdimensional portals. Period. And what's he done about Gary and Susan who got sucked into that thing during my dinner party two weeks ago? Nothing. I'm getting sick of it."

The interdimensional vortex dominates Carol's apartment so much that conversation inevitably steers towards it. From there talk will drift to space and science fiction, then ultimately Star Trek, and when that happens, the party is already over.

"This stupid galactic anomaly keeps sucking the life out of my parties," said Carol, obviously annoyed. "The glowing blue rim is interesting for, oh, say 10 seconds, but as a conversation piece...forget it. It's eerie, its and I don't know enough technobabble to explain its existence."