Note:  The following is a work of fiction.  None of the names
have been changed because no one is innocent.

-------------------------------------------------------------

     Geordi was talking to Barclay.  He said, "Reg, we've been
friends for a long time.  What have you got going on here?"
     "Just a little holodeck simulation.  Stick around.  The
others'll be here soon.  You wanna watch?"
     "Well, I'd love to, Reg, but it's tough to see *anything*
while wearing this air filter."
     "C'mon."
     They entered the holodeck.
     "Computer, begin program Barclay 993."
     A long oak table appeared around which were seated six men
and two women.  On the table were strewn some writing pads,
pencils, matchsticks, compasses, and straight-edges.  There was a
gallery overlooking the table but none of the people seemed to
notice.
     "Reg, these people.  Who *are* they?  They have such
*presence*."
     "Well, that guy at the head of the table, with the sharp 
nose--"
     "Good hair," said Geordi.
     "That's Carl Gauss."
     "Gauss.  Go on."
     "At his left is Pierre de Fermat."
     "Across from him...who's the fat guy with the eyes?"
     "That's Ramanujan."
     "And to his right is Andrew Wiles."
     Geordi nodded.
     "Across from him, with the beard, is Raymond Smullyan."
     "Who?"
     Data entered, dressed in black slacks, a black vest, and a
white Oxford shirt.
     "Has it begun yet?" he asked.
     "Just starting," said Barclay.
     "So who's this Smullyan guy?"
     Data answered.  "Raymond Smullyan.  A late 20th-century
logician and puzzle-maker."
     "Why Smullyan?  Why not Martin Gardner?"
     "Smullyan looks like Santa Claus.  The author's writing this
the day before Christmas..."
     "Point taken.  One question, Reg."
     "Sure."
     "What's this doing in talk.philosophy.misc?"
     "Stick around.  In the meantime, ask yourself this.  What do
you make of the following:  A Russian homophobe will be
unexpectedly hanged next week."?
     "Okay," said Geordi.  "Well, I've never know you to lie
before, so if you were in fact lying, that would be unexpected.  I
guess I can infer pretty much whatever I like.  Just one more
question."
     "Shoot."
     "What's a homophobe?"
     One by one Picard, Riker, Troi, Worf, both Crushers, and a few
others entered the holodeck and seated themselves in the gallery.
     "Next to Wiles is--"
     Data interrupted, "Lily Tomlin."
     "Great," said Geordi, "She was funny."
     "No, Geordi," said Barclay.  "Not Lily Tomlin.  That's Mar--"
     "Mary Tyler Moore!  Of course.  Those early shows were great!"
     "Um, sorry to disappoint you, Geordi.  That's Marilyn vos
Savant."
     "Who?"
     "Data?" said Barclay.
     Data shrugged.
     "Marilyn vos Savant?!" said Geordi.  "If that's a real name
then I'm Ludwig Plutonium."
     "No," said Barclay, "but *he* is." 
     Geordi looked at the near end of the table.  There were two
more seated there, one man and one woman.  Geordi looked at the one
on the right, the man, removed his visor and rubbed his eyes.
     "Is he wearing what I think he's wearing?  And who *is* he?"
     "Like I said, *that's* Ludwig Plutonium."
     "Why the empty chair between him and Smullyan?"
     "The first time I ran this simulation, there was, well, a
seating problem.  So I had the computer run through all possible
seating arrangements.  Trust me.  The seat's empty for a reason."
     "But who *is* he?"
     Data shrugged again.
     "Across from him is Hollystone S."
     "Data?"
     "Late 20th century porno star," said the android.
     "Excuse me, Data," said Barclay.  "I don't think so.  Come on,
let's sit down."  They joined the others up in the gallery.



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RICHH