Reply by email, filling out this form and emailing it to me. Trimming off the rest of this post is unnecessary. I will guarantee anonymity except in cases of blatant abuse. I will achieve anonymity by tallying the results in uncorrelated tabulations and then deleting the emails. (I know this loses interesting correlation data, but if resondents want anonymity it's hard to avoid.) I know that this anonymity promise depends on trust and that you have no particular reason to trust me. Someday, I hope. I will post results Saturday. xxxxxxxx beginning of survey xxxxxxxx yes( ) ( )no Should RoadRunner be subjected to some kind of UDP? yes( ) ( )no ... active UDP (cancels) ? yes( ) ( )no ... passive UDP (drop messages) ? yes( ) ( )no ... all-groups UDP? (as opposed to specific groups) yes( ) ( )no Are you a Usenet sysadmin? How big:_ How long:_ yes( ) ( )no Should another server be subjected to UDP? Who:_ yes( ) ( )no Should UDPs be used more often? yes( ) ( )no Should UDPs be used less often? yes( ) ( )no Would you have answered this survey without anonymity? xxxxxxxx end of survey xxxxxxxx -- calendar facing me, April 9th, 1960. Again-nothing. Suddenly, as if "Someone" had reached a decision, the Voice came again. "Lobsang. You have suffered much. You have done well, but there is no time for complacency. There is a task for you yet to do." There was a pause as if the Speaker had been unexpectedly interrupted, and I waited, sick at heart and wholly apprehensive. I had more than enough of misery and suffering during the past years. More than enough of change, of being hunted, persecuted. As I waited I caught fleeting telepathic thoughts from others nearby. The girl tapping her foot impatiently at the bus stop below my window, "Oh, this bus service, it's the worst in the world. Will it never come?" Or the man delivering a parcel at the house next door: "Wonder if I dare ask the Boss for a rise? Millie will sure be mad if I don't get some money for her soon!" Just as I was idly wondering who "Millie" was, much as a person waiting at a telephone thinks idly, the insistent Inner voice came to me again. "Lobsang! Our decision is made. The hour has come for you to write again. This next book will be a vital task. You must write stressing one theme, that one person can take over the body of another, with the latter person's full consent." I started in dismay, and almost broke the telepathic con- tact.