The florescent lights above me buzzed and flickered long before I was woken by the tapping of fingers on a keyboard. My eyes fluttered open, drank in the dust motes floating in the artificial light. "Good morning, David," a voice said at my side. Shown on the small, outdated television set was a clown. A doll, a puppet, I realized, fake as Paris Hilton. "My name is Jigsaw," the creepy thing continued, its flat mouth opening and closing without sync with the words from off screen. "You are David, and for years you've prided yourself on your limited computer knowledge, pretending to know much more than you do, trying to help your friends with their problems, even when they obviously don't want it. It's that pride that has gotten you here." The puppet waited, almost seeing me through the screen, as fear filled me. "Behind you," Jigsaw said, "are two computers. As of ten seconds ago, they began receiving power from a man in Delaware, who has begun his morning workout on an unknowingly rigged treadmill. In one hour he will finish his exercise and the power will stop coming." The puppet stopped again. "You have that one hour to fix the one broken computer behind you with your leet skills. It is running Windows Vista. After getting it started, you will be able to get on the internet and call for help. If you do not get the computer working in time, it will shut down and stay that way, and you will be forced to call for help on the other computer...a Mac. I need not say what using a Mac will forever do to your reputation. Hurry up." The screen went blank, black as my hope of surviving with my reputation intact. "But...it's hopeless!" I screamed at the blank television. I turned the Vista on and the screen went black seconds after starting. The computer went dead. I opened it up. Strange objects stared up at me, some the top technology from 2005, others the worst from 1990. I touched one piece at random, and stared in horror with the knowledge that, even if I had knowledge of computers, I would still lose this game. I began to cry. Far away, the real Jigsaw, an old man, lay weakly on a table. He was glaring at Amanda, his apprentice. "It's not fair," he said, "you have to play by the rules." Amanda did not look at him, continued to lay out medical equipment. "What do you mean?" she asked. Jigsaw coughed. "The rules are, the game has to be winnable!" *note: I do not own Jigsaw, Amanda, or any Saw characters or anything from the franchise.