Today his pages began with "S". He typed in names and addresses at his usual 180 word-per-minute rate. Alfred Sabada, Eugenia Sablinsky, Ramona Sabelhaus, Florence Sanders, Kiyoshi Saporito, Vijay Sarang, Kitty Scarborough, Angelo Servino, Jesse...

Angelo glanced again at the list. Angelo Servino? He scanned the line again, unbelievingly. Angelo Servino, 7989 Sylvia Way, Celestial Heights, NY. Could there be another Angelo Servino in Celestial Heights?

"Anything's possible; you should know that by now." A voice came from above Angelo. It was Sherwin, peering down at him over the cubicle divider.

"Sherwin, my name's on the list. Has anything like this happened to anyone here before? It's gotta be a mistake!"

"You better get back to your work or you won't make your quota," Sherwin said in a calm voice.

Angelo tried to delete his name, although he knew that once a name was entered in, it couldn't be erased.

"Yup, you're in there all right," Sherwin confirmed.

"What now?" asked Angelo.

"Relax and enjoy it. Not a hell of a lot you can do about it, buddy. Why not grab a few beers, take the rest of the day off."

Angelo went home. He took the bus as usual from downtown, and walked down the neighborhood street to his house on Sylvia Way. He opened his mailbox and pulled out a stack of letters. "Geez, that was fast. They don't even give you time to get used to the idea," Angelo muttered as he sifted through the mail. Thanks to the services of A.D.S., he was already receiving advertisements from lawyers ready to draw up his will, and accountants ready to close his affairs. There were insurance people, funeral directors, obituary writers, casket and marble marker 4-color tearsheets. There were brochures from psychologists, and broadsides from astrologers, even a small, conservatively thermo-engraved calling card from a priest. The phone rang, and Angelo reached up to the wall phone to answer it. It was Sherwin.

"You're not thinking again, are you? Geez, buddy, that's the last thing you should be doing now. Did you get your mail? They already cleaned out your desk."

Angelo looked through his mail again. At the bottom of the stack was a blue envelope addressed in his own hand. "Of course!" Angelo exclaimed excitedly, quickly opening the letter. On a piece of blue notepaper were the words, Don't take the bus! Now he remembered everything! He'd written this letter to himself when he had started his job at A.D.S.! Angelo's mood lifted as he decided to go back downtown and clear up the confusion at work. This time, deliberately passing the bus stop, Angelo hailed a taxi at the corner of Sylvia and Pine.

"Where to?" the cabbie asked.

"Downtown," Angelo said, "but I'm in no hurry; everybody thinks I'm dead," he explained.

"Aren't you Angelo Servino?" asked the cabbie looking in the rear view mirror.

"Yes. How did you know that?" Angelo had that horrible feeling again.

"It won't be long now," the cabbie said, turning the corner.

Before he could answer, Angelo's attention was caught by the sound of the out-of-control bus screeching in front of them.

It was quiet the next morning in the A.D.S. data entry office. A new employee was being trained on the mailing list database.

"Here's your desk," the manager explained. "Every day you'll get a stack of pages to enter. It looks like from your work experience that you should have no trouble keeping up. This is Sherwin; he's been here for years, he can help you out if you get into trouble."

"Thanks," the employee said, "I'll remember that." He pulled out a blue envelope from the top drawer of his desk and addressed it to Angelo Servino, 7989 Sylvia Way, Celestial Heights, NY. On a small piece of notepaper he scrawled, Don't take the bus! And underneath that he wrote, And don't take a taxi either! He slipped the paper into the envelope and tucked it into his desk drawer.

"Maybe it'll help next time," he muttered.

"Anything's possible," Sherwin said agreeably, leaning over the wall of his cubicle.

Angelo turned on his monitor and began his day of work.