What to choose: the spew boasted thousands of channels these days, with more coming online every day. Croon wasn't really in the mood for Stalker tonight, having spent the whole day spying on Thorgarten. He decided to surf the local entertainment. Logging on to a Berlin station he was surprised to see one of the childhood favourites, Quantum Leap, dubbed into Deutsch. And excellent! it was only just starting. The show opened with grim grunge music and the title: Seattle, April 1994. How odd Croon thought... while he was a seasoned fan, he couldn't ever remember seeing this particular episode. He kicked back and started to relax.

Mist was rising from Puget Sound when Dr Sam Beckett possessed his latest victim, a chubby postal worker named Duff. Duff was riding a bicycle down a steep hill when his body was taken over and there followed the predictable gyrations and slap-stick antics as Sam adjusted to the scene. He sweered swearing into the path of an oncoming car, narrowly missed splattering himself on the windsheild, careened into a tree on the other side of the road.

<<What the...>> Sam said, his new body christened with a large bruise. He looked at his reflection in his sunglasses, appraised the long hair, untucked shirt, the Duff name-tag, the classic Doc Martin boots. Loud grunge music was playing through his headphones.

<<Hey, are you all right?>> a man yelled from the aforementioned car.

<<Huh?>> Sam moaning under a pile of letters. <<Oh yeah>> he managed <<I'm okay.>>

He pedalled off down the street, eyes open for clues. For readers not in the know, Quantum Leap worked like this: Sam was an archetypal all-American lost in the time-space continuum and desperate to get home. He had been wandering history for years, yanked from one life to the next, one week an ailing wrestling star, the next the mother of the little boy who grew up to shoot John Lennon. If being a time refugee wasn't punishment enough, Sam also had to work: healing broken hearts, preventing crimes, generally guiding the course of human history. He fucking hated it!

But when he randomly pulled a letter from the bag and saw the Seattle address and the big words Kurt Cobain, the doctor felt a surge of delight. <<No way>> he said. <<This is too much!>>

Cobain's house was the big one at the top of the hill. Sam rang the buzzer at the gate, waited nervously for a response.

A voice came through the intercom: <<Yeah, what do you want?>>

<<Er, I got a letter here for one Kurt Cobain. Heh heh, some kind of fan mail.>>

<<Leave it in the letter-box>> the voice said <<that's what it's there for.>>

<<Heck, it was worth a try>> Sam said. Just then a shape began materialising in the grey air beside him, like a rainbow on a cloudy day: it was Admiral Al Calavicci his etheral assistant, a riot of colours in his alaphet shirt and cigar. He was clutching a calculator.

<<Al>> Duff said <<glad you could make it. Do you know where we are?>>

The admiral performed a complex sum on his calculator. Fuck knows what the reading was, but it graved Al out: <<Great god, this is more critical than I thought. We're nearly on the rim of the event horizon...>>

Croon thought this sounded cool, so he went off to the kitchen to fetch himself a drink. When he came back, however, some German game-show was playing on the TV. Maybe I bumped the remote he thought. He scanned through the nearest 30 channels looking for Quantum Leap, but the closest he found was an old episode of Herman's Head. He'd lost it. <<Bastards, you'll pay for that>> he said, hands clenching into fists. <<I'm on the fucking case!>>

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