283A-47Q, or Jack as he preferred to be called, stepped out onto the Spaceport platform at FFS headquarters. Colonel 428O-01L handed him a freshly popped can of Mt. Dew and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Welcome back, Jack. You did great work on Caffeine,” the colonel said.

“Thank you, colonel,” Jack said, taking a deep gulp of what might have been the most delicious beverage he’d ever had.

Jack had just spent ten of the longest years of his life on Caffeine infiltrating and spying on the rebel group calling themselves Caffeine Free. They were a difficult group to get into. He spent nearly a year working fast food joints, bars, convenience stores and coffee houses before discovering that the CF rarely visited such places. The only other place on the entire planet that could conceivably be considered a place to socialize was the public library.

The sign on the front door read “No Food, No Beverages, No Rambunctiousness”. Jack discovered it only by making an off-hand comment about how he couldn’t find a place to just sit and read. He had absolutely no intention on reading anything, but sitting would have been nice. The public library was recommended to him by an annoyed older co-worker at the Can’t Sit Down Coffee, Café, and Candy Shoppe. It took six weeks of intense investigation and a commitment requiring that he drop his job at the Café to even find the place.

Upon locating this place called The Public Library he discovered that only three people ever used the place at any given time and two of them worked there. It took a further eight weeks to make contact with a rebel group member.

Jack’s intensity at getting into that group had the Federation a little worried that he hadn’t been somehow converted, or worse, compromised. But not Jack. His dedication to for Free Sodas was all consuming, and goddamit, if he was going to drink a soda as a free man, it was certainly going to be caffeinated.

So, after ten years of being on Caffeine, and not drinking a drop of it, he was back home on Cola Prime. He was greeted by his old C.O. Colonel 428O-01L, who had remembered Jack’s favorite soda.

“Something’s wrong,” Jack finally said after draining the can.

“How can you tell?” Colonel 428O-01L asked.

“You called me here personally. And I don’t think it was to hand me a can of warm Mt. Dew,” Jack squished the can against the side of his head and belched enormously.

“The Big Guys want to have a word with you,” the colonel said as they neared an awaiting hovercab.

Jack nearly choked. “The Big Guys?”

“Yup, apparently they want to meet you in person,” the colonel handed the cabby a set of instructions and sat down in the back next to Jack.

“Come on, Colonel. Why do they really want to see me?” Jack asked. The Big Guys never congratulate someone in person. Come to think of it, they didn’t congratulate at all.

“Ok, I’ll tell you what I know. But you have to promise not to tell anyone I told you this,” the colonel whispered.

“I promise,” Jack said.

“You are being sent to Teevee to retrieve something,” the colonel said.

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“What is on Teevee that is so important that I can’t get a good night’s sleep?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know. Something yellow,” the colonel shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know any more.”

Jack didn’t like it, but there was something yellow on Teevee tonight and it had the Bug Guys nervous.

They arrived at HQ soon enough and the colonel paid the cabby. They walked into the building and headed straight for the Big Guy room. Inside were five chairs, two were normal and the other three were oversized.

Jack and the colonel sat down and waited. About five minutes later three big men walked in and sat down in the remaining chairs.

What most people do not know about the Big Guys is that scientists genetically engineered them almost two hundred years ago. Those scientists felt that the Federation of Free Sodas needed strong leaders with super intelligent minds. What they did not realize at the time was that the same gene that determined brain size also affects physical size. (That is the official explanation. Truth be known, they did not have any idea why suddenly so many guys were growing to be so big. Geneticists wanted credit for doing something, good or bad, true or not. They had been getting bad press ever since the hamster-polar bear incident.)

“283A-47Q, welcome back,” the big Guy in the middle said.

“Jack, please,” Jack said.

“Jack, we have a new mission for you,” the Big Guy on the left said.

“The Really Big Guys want you to go to Teevee tonight,” the Big Guy on the right said.

Well, an order from the Really Big Guys was not an order to refuse.

The middle Big Guy spoke again. “There is a used, yellow, unmarked new looking Space binder 6000 with a sheet of paper in it on Teevee. Your mission is to go there and retrieve it.”

“Space binder 6000?” The name made Jack’s blood boil.

The colonel sat there unaffected. He was humming Tom Dooley while trimming his fingernails.

“The mission has nothing to do with the Space Binder Corporation. Jack, we understand your feelings towards the Space Binder, but we also feel you are the best man for the job,” the left Big Guy said.

“This could be a matter of life and death, jack. Do you accept the mission?” the middle Big Guy asked.

“Yes,” Jack said calmly. Space Binder would pay!

*************************************************************

A checkered hovercab floated down to rest in front of a dilapidated shack of a motel. The cabby stepped out and stuck a cigarette in his mouth. With a flick and flash of light he lit the white stick and took a quick puff.

Walking nervously he headed for room number 29. Being night it was hard to tell 29 from 59 and he accidentally disturbed a young couple. When they slammed the door in his face he realized there had been a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door.

He finally got to room 29 and knocked gingerly. The door creaked open slightly to reveal a pair of beady eyes that were staring intently at him

“Boss?” the cabby asked.

The door swung wide open revealing the body that went with those beady eyes. The man, known only as ‘Boss’ was short stocky weasel faced man with beady eyes.

“What the hell are you doing knocking gingerly?!” Boss roared. “Knock like a man you puny excuse for a spy!” and he slammed the door shut.

The cabby thought for second and then pounded on the door. The door creaked open revealing a pair of beady eyes.

“Boss?” the cabby asked.

The door swung wide open revealing… etc, etc, etc.

“Put out that cigarette, this is a nonsmoking room,” Boss let him in. “What d'ya got for me?”

“The Big Guys are sending a spy to Teevee,” the cabby said.

“Why? What’s on Teevee?” Boss asked.

“Something yellow,” the cabby replied.

“When?” Boss asked.

“Tonight,” the cabby replied again.

“So, there’s something yellow on Teevee tonight,” Boss said. “What else?”

“The spy’s name is Jack,” the cabby said. “That’s it.”

Boss went silent thinking for a moment. “That’s it?”

“Yes,” the cabby replied.

“Yes, what?” Boss asked.

Cabby went silent in thought when a light bulb went off inside his head. “Oh yeah, yes, and where’s my dough?” the cabby demanded.

“Good, good,” Boss muttered pleasantly to himself as he handed the cabby two hundred smackers. “Very good. Now follow him.”