She was a case study in bad luck making better fortunes. It always seemed wherever Linda Wolfe went she would be the victim of something that would end up causing a better outcome for everyone around her. She was a large woman, but she wore it well; at almost 6'6 she had to, but her legs were very long and quite shapely, and her tan skin made her quite attractive despite her great height. She was an excellent basketball player, as one might imagine, but her goofiness off the court made her a team leader. Her knack for fortunate misfortunes started in college when she walked in on the co-captains in the showers. Linda was straight, but the ease with which she accepted her gay teammates endeared her to her team and made her the backbone of a two-time national championship squad. In her short pro career, again her fortunate misfortunes caught up with her: her blowing out both her knees led to the trade that got her team to the finals for 4 of the next 6 seasons, and earned her a cozy seat in the press box next to the equally tall local sportswriter who made her life cozier by the minute until they were married 2 years later. Marrying a sportswriter also carried the benefits of being tapped as an announcer. She had two children before 2008, both daughters. She commuted to her job in New York from Stamford and lived the simple life, but no one could ever call her a housewife to her face. Her competitive spirit, in fact, was what made her such a great reporter. She was always the first to break a story, and the soccer moms accepted her as one of their own because of her kids, yet her tolerance of lesbians made her the trusted choice of many players who wished to come out of the closet on air. When the tide of opinion shifted sharply to the right in the late 2000s, it was Linda Wolfe whose voice made a better fortune. Even as her close friends were being arrested and executed, her voice was the unifier between gay and straight, and even when the tempers flared to the point of revolt over the treatment of homosexuals in America during the trials of Tina Washington and the White Widow, it was Linda Wolfe that both sides could trust and that kept women’s basketball alive even when the country was headed towards civil war.

When the merger came and Channel 1 was launched, it was Linda who was chosen to head up the women’s sports department. Who else could they choose? She was the guiding voice that everyone could agree with, and while the ten-channel system had enthralled most of the country, the Northeast was stubborn and resistant. Linda took the job only because she had to. She hated President Richardson, thought the merger of CBS, NBC and ABC into an entity led by FOX brass was an abomination of the country’s laws, and never forgot that the only couple she thought could be as in love as her and her Roy were those team captains she walked in on all those years ago, her best friends Wanda and Frances. All these ideals were repulsive to Channel 1. Channel 1 was the privately run core of a larger corporate and governmental system known as BRITNEY who ran all media to convey the unified political thought of the far right.

It was a fortunate misfortune that brought those two together. Channel 1 was losing their audience in women’s sports, but without women’s sports there was no false sense of empowerment that women could look up to if their lives of cleaning and cooking were frustrating them. Worse yet, young girls had no outlet for their natural rebellion without sports, which could cause rebellion if unchecked. Furthermore, the northeast was becoming more and more resistant. Indeed, Vermont had to be ceded to Canada just to prevent a border war to the north. Despite a Britney substation being placed near Boston, the resistance to the programming was high. They needed someone to call their own and claiming that Natalie hailed from there was not working.

Linda, on the other hand, had nowhere to go. Channel 1 had the exclusive rights to the Women’s league and despite her current job at AIS being high-paying, she never wanted to be a political reporter. She loved her game and longed to cover it, so when both her and her husband were offered jobs at Channel 1, she reluctantly accepted to be the color commentator for the women’s league for the 2009 season.

After the season she was ready to quit with her husband, not only quit the league but the country. AIS had been put out of business in a sweeping change of tide and she could see things going more and more to the right, and in fact secretly helped arm the rebellion in Times Square. She was angry, but she was in New York City, the designated home for the unbreakable mad, and she still had her job.

“We need you, Roy, and the new 3rd member of the broadcast team to go over some videos to get ready for the college season,” the producer said with a smile and with those seemingly simple words everything changed forever.

She sat in the front with her Roy sitting next to her. The 3rd member she knew well, good old Dale Schultz, the Okie. She was an odd sort who had quit the game to broadcast because she thought it damaged her reputation as a married woman to be playing sports, yet she then divorced and went back to playing before quitting again. It didn’t take long for Linda to realize that she would end up the 3rd reporter sooner than later. Dale was striking, a manageable 6’1" with killer legs and beautiful blonde hair, while Linda was considered too large and bulky despite her knowledge of the game. Furthermore, it was obvious that Dale had taken some extra steps to try to win the job from Linda- namely, her large boob job that she flaunted through a lace top under her professional skirt suit that Linda thought was most likely just her recycling her negligee from the night before. The films started with just regular game footage, but Linda could tell right away something was off. For one, her normally serious Roy was the one making the wisecracks on how hot the players looked. Linda didn’t panic at first, but she could feel something go through her mind whenever she saw a good play, as if that would put her mind at ease and let her listen even more intently to what was playing behind the video. It was soothing and nothing objectionable came on, so she just relaxed and put her arm around Roy and enjoyed it for a while. Then the basketball footage shifted to “The Quaker Show”, the #1 hit since 2008, appointment television that garnered alarming ratings of close to 50% and in some cities there wasn’t a home that wasn’t watching it. Furthermore, it contained degrading jokes directed and made light out of torturing and killing Arabs and made a point of demonizing homosexuals. Linda quickly awoke and screamed.

“Whose goddamn idea of a joke is this?!” Linda exclaimed and quickly had gotten up to open the door, only to find it was locked. “This isn't even remotely CLOSE to funny! I’m gonna kill whoever did this! Now let us out of here!” Linda banged on the door, but then she felt whispers in her head telling her to relax and enjoy the new wave of television. She couldn’t understand it and the whole scene was really starting to creep her out, but then she felt her Roy behind her, taking her into his arms, kissing the back of her head softly as she instinctively relaxed. She still tried to resist but she heard the whispers telling her to relax, her husband was here, he would make sure she would always be safe, nothing bad could happen to her because he was here. “A woman cannot be harmed by anyone but herself when her husband is near,” she swore she heard a 4th person in the room say, but she couldn’t tell who and her vision was quickly fading.

In the dim light of the screen, Roy’s features stood out well. She could look straight into his brown eyes and become totally lost in them as she sat back down in front of the giant screen, her green eyes glazing over, not even caring that Roy was unbuttoning her blouse and fondling her breasts right in front of an oblivious Dale. Linda’s brain had become awash in passion for her husband and with one last soft whisper she tried to voice her concern, but even that was done in time with the damsel-in-distress scene in the soap opera that was now playing.

”I love you, Roy, but something isn't right here, protect me!” she said, her voice growing breathy.

“Just relax, God will help us into a better place after this is over,” Roy replied somewhat mechanically. This normally would send Linda into a maddened frenzy given the way the church treated her for merely THINKING that gay marriage was a good idea, but Linda was captivated in the moment. All the stiffness in her surgically rebuilt knees seemed to go away as her long legs spread in delight and anticipation. She felt herself lighter and thinner and her Roy, a self-admitted wimp, strong and brave as he lifted her lank body and lowered her to the floor, nothing but a smile on Linda’s face as he took her clothes off and slowly made love to her. Yes, slowly, comfortably, peacefully, and her eyes completely glazed over and the signals entered her brain with ease as her body unfurled to a deeply satisfying climax as she sat down with Roy, her naked body draped around him and she dreamed of what a great wife she would make to her even greater husband.

Linda was completely taken, and she and Roy clung to each other as they watched, listened and obeyed to the messages of thought and thought them like they were the gospel. Her lanky body to her was growing thinner, sexier and she had a peaceful and goofy grin as she and Roy fell into the system together.

Linda believed it all, just like anyone else, right down to the homophobia and hate. They had found the perfect hostess now and everything seemed to be going great but Linda began to feel alone, cold, frightened. She heard everything now and she caught a glimpse of herself: too tall, brown hair too dark, green eyes, and... and... ALONE!

Linda snapped awake. She had been unconscious for days and as she gathered her clothes she could see Dale blissfully sucking on Roy, her blonde hair bouncing in between Roy’s long strokes of Dale's hair and in a moment Linda went from a submissive puppet to ripping off all her strings and throwing them aside in utter madness.

“HOW COULD YOU!!!” Linda screamed so loudly that the men outside ran in as fast as they could to rein her in. She didn't cry. Her anger stayed there and boiled over while Roy and Dale giggled and sexed away, oblivious to her existence.

“So blonde... so perfect... I love you, my darling wife,” Roy said.

“I’M YOUR WIFE, YOU MORON!” Linda yelled as the men tried to get her eyes back on the screen, but nothing seemed to happen. She broke free and shoved the couple to the floor, but all this did was have Dale giggle at her man as he got up and stood over Dale and prepared to mount her.

“Hehehe, I go down for you now!” Dale replied in an infantile tone, a spontaneous reaction to a change in scenery rather than actual thought.

“God’s sending your whore ass to hell, woman, that’s MY husband!” Linda’s emotions started to break down as she saw that she could not recover her Roy and she was led out of the room in tears while the producers locked the door behind them and figured out what on earth to do.

“You DO realize we have committed a mortal sin? Adultery is highly damnable,” said one of the producers.

“But, Ray! How would we know she’d wake up long enough to see her husband take to the natural beauty? I thought she would just hallucinate her being on her honeymoon for eternity! I mean, before then she was moaning and jerking off like there was no difference,” another said.

“Marty, we don't know the extent of the actor’s processor unit yet or even how it works aside from the rather obvious reward system. I guess she could see through the lights eventually. I wonder if anything stuck,” said Ray, who then got an idea. “Hey, I wonder if she’s so fucked in the head that she could work behind the scenes. I mean, she was out like a light for a week just like the other two. Her programming should have been about complete.”

“You mean tell her what had happened? You think she’s that crazy?” Marty questioned, showing his bite and scratch marks from removing Linda from the room to prove his point. They went into the small room where Linda was being kept. After cooling off, they saw Linda giggling, blank-faced and glassy-eyed, drawing on the desk with a pen, singing happily.

“Hiiiiiii, boys!” Linda said with a happy lilt in her voice.

“Linda, do you know why your husband no longer loves you?” Ray asked nervously.

“Yup! You all want girls to be sluts, and I’m not a slut! I’m not a slut!” she answered in a preschool, singsong tone.

“Are you pleased?” Ray continued, trying to find some vein of reason in Linda's injured mind.

“Yeah, I’m not a dyke and I’m not a slut! And I’m not a blonde! Hehehe, oooohhh! Did I get you in trouble?” Linda asked back, and she looked worried for a moment, but it was the worry of a kid with her hand in the cookie jar.

“Not at all! In fact, you would be perfect in helping use these people to teach the others how to be as happy as you are.” Ray answered. He had no clue what to expect but he didn’t expect what he got.

“You mean write stories? Oh! Oh! OH! Can I have them do nudie movies? The blonde one seems good at that. Reeeaaalllyyy good! She made my husband love her and squeeze her and do all sorts of sexy things to her, things that only married people were supposed to do. Yes, good slut, good good good slut!!! The bestest slut ever!” Linda answered.

It was obvious that Linda’s mind had regressed from a combination of her programming and the shock of the adultery. The men quickly conferred and wondered aloud what to do.

“She’s completely whacked out of her mind! She can barely form sentences!” Marty protested.

“This is the sports channel. All she has to do is choose their emotions and mannerisms and speak the names of the players and it's all set. It’s not like we’re asking her to program the opera,” Ray said, then added, “Marty, do I need to add that if the brass finds out what we did we are as good as fired, and that's just if we're lucky? This is the perfect cover-up! No one wanted someone as ugly as her to be an announcer anyway! I dunno if the camera would even be able to zoom in all the way up there.” Ray pleaded with his partner and Marty reentered the room.

“Linda, do you like basketball?” Marty asked.

“Yeah! I won trophies and medals and everything. Too many dykes in the pro leagues though, but not meeeeeeeeeee!!! I had two kids, two girls, and they are twice as mature as I am!” Linda said tauntingly. “Say, why do you men run the baby-making machine? NO FAIR! That big book over there says I’m supposed to be the baby-making machine!” She pouted, pointing at the Bible in the corner. Marty did a double take and walked out of the room with Ray.

“My God, her memories returned, but they’re jumbled and her mind is fogged over to the point that she’s basically a 5-year-old. At least all the doctrine stuck in her head so she isn’t playing to dykes. You’re right, Ray, we don’t dare put her in front of the camera! She’ll squeal and people will break out, or worse. We need to tell the other producers, though,” Marty said with concern in his voice.

“Why would we give up our jobs? God has punished us enough, hasn’t he? He’s saddled us with this huge burden, why get fired?” Ray answered.

“So they don’t make the same mistake! Isn’t it obvious what happened? The machine showed erotic images of perfect women: Natalie, Tracy, hell, even that old hag Jenny. All blonde, all beautiful. You can make your wife close to that in real life, especially with a little bleach and a good barber, but DAMN, you can NOT have this level of programming where we are creating human puppets and have another woman in there! As soon as the man’s memories of love and happiness with his partner are gone, of COURSE he’s gonna jump on the blonde! How stupid could we be not to see that coming?” Marty explained, finally putting two and two together.

“Yeesh, yeah. Well, perhaps just a scientific letter without telling the people how we know this? As for Linda, do you think she can write on her own or will we have to puppet her around as well?” Ray asked.

“Let’s see in a few days when Roy and Dale are ready,” Marty pondered. The weekend passed and Linda was led back to the tape room, where she met her human dolls for the first time.

“Linda, this is your announce team, Roy and Dale…” Mary started before Linda cut him off.

“Dollies!!! Ooohhh, pretty dolly, and handsome too! A regular matched set! Ooooh, do I get a dollhouse for them too? And a playset? Ohhhh, I want one of those shiny convertibles for them to ride in like Natalie has! Please, can I…pleeaaassseee?” Linda said, bouncing up and down with excitement, which with a 6’5 frame produced some comical results.

“Well, how about an apartment in the sky, waaayyy up top where you can see everything in the city? And of course a stretch limo to go to and from every show. It's better than a convertible,” Marty rationalized. Their plan was to lock Linda away on the top floor of 30 Rock except when traveling and at the games, of which there would be many, and in season recap shows, Olympics and international tournaments if all went well. But they didn’t want her condition to be seen by too many, lest it cause panic.

“Ohhh! Cool! Oh! Can I make my lil Roy and Dale talk?” she asked.

“Oh, yes. You'll have their microphones soon enough. Now you better practice! Your first game is in a week. A screen test on the local public stations between Sacred Heart and Hartford. If you do well, you will be the lead team for the Women’s League!” Marty said, hoping that she would be selected, lest their plan completely fail.

“Okay! But ick, you can’t go to a game like that! Suits? Skirts? Bo-ring! We need a wardrobe, where’s my dolly clothes?!” Linda exclaimed.

The two producers glanced at each other with looks that just exclaimed “we’re doomed” as Linda skipped away to the wardrobe department, Roy and Dale happily skipping behind, while the producers had to run just to catch up. When they got there, they couldn’t believe what they saw: Mr. Ebeneizer Richards himself, the CEO of Channel 1 sports, with Linda as she girlishly told him of her plans. They knew they were fired now; they might as well just come clean and admit their mistake so they could at least get a job somewhere to feed their families. As Mr. Richards called them over, Marty was the first to explain.

“Mis…ter Richards, umm, great meeting you. I see you met Linda... do mind her, she’s a little, ummm ditzy. Anyway, what happened was…there was a miscalculation in the hyperprogramming system and…”

“What the hell are you talking about, Marty, your head writer? I know all about it. Don’t let it happen again- you should know better, a woman’s place is not in the workforce. But she has ideas, and if it *is* women’s sports she’s writing for, no man could capture that kind of emotion WHILE still showing where the women need to go when it’s time for them to follow their true calling,” Mr. Richards said.

“So you know about the accident? Did she tell you?” Marty inquired.

“What accident? well, she is a little eccentric, now that I think about it, but so's half of Hollywood. Did she hit her head as a kid? Maybe that’s where her creativity comes from. See for yourself! Maybe you could become writers if you had half the creativity she has,” Mr. Richards continued.

Marty and Ray were dumbfounded. Could it be that Linda’s mind was so warped it created something even stranger than the fiction they had produced in the film room?

“Oh, hey, there Marty, I see you met Mr. Richards. Isn't he nice? How do you like Dale?” Linda asked as Dale emerged from the changing room. She was dressed as a full-blown cheerleader, except with high heeled shoes, but the short skirt and tight sweater were a perfect red, the same red as the home team they were going to cover. Roy came out in a picture-perfect suit and Dale skipped over to him, her eyes locked on his big body.

“Now that’s what I call a straight man!” Ray said, realizing the intentions of the fractured mind of Linda.

“No, that’s what I call a blessed man, to have a woman like that!” Mr. Richards corrected Ray. “Young men will flock to the women’s sports events, further melting the gap between men and women when it comes to sports. And as a former player, every girl will want to be just like Dale!”

Linda pondered this and then Dale suddenly removed her top. Ray was quick to try and remind Linda of the decency code, but stopped when Dale quickly tucked a red basketball jersey into her skirt.

“Now, hehe, all the girls will want to play in skirts! Like GIRLS! No dykes here! Hehe!” Linda said, secretly enjoying how downright goofy the combination was, especially on Dale.

“How clever!” Mr. Richards thought out loud. “Yes, the 10 channel system is built to change trends. I’m sure Victory will be selling this look a lot in the coming years.” Linda just smiled at Ray and got ready to leave for Hartford for the game.

When they arrived at the game Ray and Marty were really worried. There was Roz Jennings coaching her team. Damn, they both thought at the same time, they forgot that one, Roz was one of Linda’s best friends and if anyone was going to blow the whistle it was her and two, Roz reported directly to the Ministry of Sport. Now, they weren’t just worrying about their jobs, but their lives as well. One misstep in front of Roz and most likely they would be reported and sent to jail for some sort of nondescript abuse to keep the hyperprogramming project secret. Ray also feared that Linda might be killed to keep the secret of the stars secret. They both moved to act when they saw Roz walk by and Linda gleefully waving to her friend as she set up Roy and Dale for the broadcast.

“Heeeyyy, Roz! How’s the Hawks this year?” Linda greeted her former teammate.

“You’re still announcing?” Roz asked.

“Naw, that’s for my *ahem* husband and that pretty little blonde. I just write for them. Like Dale’s outfit? Sporting, but reminding everyone that we are just women after all,” Linda bragged. Dale instinctively got up and showed off her basketcheerleader outfit, and Roz and Linda had a good laugh.

“Now, I do need your list.” Linda snapped back into her reporter mode.

“Oh, the lineups? Lame assistant forgot again, I take it,” Roz replied, rolling her eyes.

“Hehe, not the lineups, I got 'em right here, silly. The LIST!” Linda implored.

“Huh? Ohhh, but no one on that list is playing tonight, I made EXTRA sure of that,” Roz answered.

“So? It’s the first game of the season, and we need to get everything started quickly. Besides, more people will watch YOUR team now that they are assured that it’s nice and clean,” Linda said with a smile. "Girl's gotta help her friends, right?"

Roz smiled back and pulled out a notebook she carried at all times in her coat pocket and handed it to Linda. Linda shook with delight before Ray and Marty could make their way down to get Linda up to the writer’s booth.

“What’s that you got there?” Ray asked.

“Oh, you didn’t know? Roz is in charge of finding all the dykes hanging around in this sport, and she gave me a copy of her not so little black book. It makes for good color, don’t you think?” Linda said with a devilish grin.

“I guess it does.” Ray said, hoping that Linda would be able to put on a halfway coherent broadcast.

As the broadcast started it was almost as if Linda became a different person, cold, calculated, and very knowledgeable about the game. She picked up the little nuances of the game very well and yet knew the focus of the game was to communicate the message of the system. Roy and Dale were the perfect tandem. Roy was the know-it-all straight man while Dale was the giggly blonde who always took time out to adore her husband and always seemed more interested in him than in the game. It was perfect comedy gold, and yet it still got the game across as attractive and athletic. Then came the big moment. She spotted someone in the front row, a pro player indeed, one she didn’t need Roz’s big black book to spot. Dee Clay herself! She was already in New York and for whatever reason that tightened Linda’s intentions even further as she readied her puppets to strike.

“Hey, Roy, look, it’s Dee Clay!” Dale said with a giggle.

“You DO know she’s a dyke, right?” Roy replied seriously.

“Ummm, yeah, that’s why she’s locked up in New York, after all! How did she sneak up here?” Dale said, obviously making up her lack of knowledge as she went along.

“Most likely here to corrupt some innocent young college player after the game. Luckily the arena here is well guarded.” Roy reassured his trembling wife, stroking her hair on camera as Dale gave her best “my hero” smile as the timeout ended and the game began again.

After the game, Ray came into the writer’s booth.

“Well, did they like it, did they like it?” Linda asked.

“We beat the Quaker Show in this state!” Ray announced.

“Oh boy, we're gonna be in trouble!” Linda exclaimed. "Everyone's supposed to watch the Quaker Show!"

“No, don't worry, it’s great, we were the #1 show locally! Channel 1 national is already calling and you know Mr. Richards is already a fan of yours,” Ray said with a smile and Linda smiled back at Ray as she called back her puppets to go home.

She went to Greenwich to pick up her kids, who at their ages and with their schooling were oblivious to any changes in their mother, and she kept Roy well hidden in the back of the limo as they headed back to 30 Rock. Two days later, Mr. Richards was in his office waiting with the CEO of Channel 1 himself, Mr. Walt M. Welch, and his wife Leslie who were there to meet this great broadcast duo themselves after hearing about it from Mr. Richards.

“So this is Linda Wolfe, and of course the stars Roy and Dale. News travels fast in Hollywood and indeed it appears that the rumors are true,” Mr. Welch said. "You're quite the writer, and you've got a great pair of stars here."

“Why, thank you, sir, and your wife, my, she’s as blonde as Dale! Hehe, not like there’s anything wrong with that!” Linda replied with a giggle that concealed a death glare into Leslie’s vacant eyes. Ray could sense Linda could tell that Mr. Welch’s trophy wife was indeed a trophy in more ways than one, and that she thought that this was quite unethical- or worse, was giving her ideas on how to salvage her natural marriage. He interrupted lest all their planning go up in smoke.

“That’s good, Linda, now what does Mr. Welch have in store for us?” Ray said nervously.

“Ahh, you must be the producer. Ray, right? Your partner told me about you. You are a worrier, I must say. I came here because I was given the tape of the game. In fact, I was told to watch it on satellite feed to see if this team was indeed all everyone was saying it was. And how it was! I wasn’t sure about a woman writer, but the way Roy and Dale so cleverly exposed that no good dyke Dee Clay was pure genius, and yet it was presented in a way that could be used to show dykes the error of their ways and help deliver them to God in a way that is beneficial to all. No other team we tried worked half as well. You will be our top national team for women’s basketball, both pro and college. Who knows? The way you present, some of the National Team games may even end up on Channel 1, but for now you'll do college games on Channel 9 and the occasional marquee game on Channel 7,” Mr. Welch explained.

“Oh, wow, that’s so COOL! So, Mr. Welch, when’s our first game?” Linda asked.

“The HOPE Classic, the way you illustrate the need for the damned homosexual to reform is a great asset as we launch the HOPE program in all states. In fact, they are your chief sponsor, that and Seminole Sports Beverages.”

Linda lit up with joy. “Oh, wow! What’s the HOPE program?” she asked with a curious, wide-eyed grin.

“It’s a program to get homosexuals to reform and accept God. We are hoping that it can be successful in ways other programs weren’t,” Mr. Welch said.

"Yay God!" Linda giggled at the prospect and took her Roy and Dale on the road to cover the remainder of the college basketball season, outing as many open lesbians as possible and advertising the HOPE program at all games. She was an expert at it, or more accurately, Dale was an expert at showing just enough shame at the lesbians while still communicating that there was room and time for them to change before it was too late. Linda stayed focused on the HOPE program and it became her biggest sponsor, even saving many from self-destruction during the James E. project, a flashback to her acceptance of Wanda and Frances in her past life, a point she made clear during a game when she had proudly had Dale read out Frances’s letter proclaiming her new life with her husband after a successful rehab in Hartford.

Linda was one of only a few Channel 1 executives not to make the trip to Hollywood when the asylum state was created. Everyone wanted her there, but she made up every excuse she could and finally Ray stepped up and said that there was more to cover on the East Coast. He had to be careful; with Marty getting a raise and moving out west, he was alone in keeping Linda Wolfe’s secret safe and he feared for his livelihood as well as Linda’s.

Years passed and it was now 2012 and Channel 1’s efforts to make New York part of their empire were focused on the Olympics. Linda was at the front and center, being the native New Yorker who could best tailor the programming to closing the asylum state for good.

“Well, we need someone who is one of their own to show that this is approved by the people of this…city,” Linda said. She already had someone in mind; through the years she directed her programming directly at people she was familiar with, with Roz Jennings more than happy to leak the names of offending lesbians. It was Linda who insisted on flying down to Phoenix to cover a league game between two last place teams just to hear Sister D start her plans to open up her own private HOPE camp that she was having built, despite everyone at Channel 1 thinking the effort was not only Papist but more for profit than reform. Now she had a new plan.

“Lily Merrill! She should be the one to lead New York toward, you know, the big guy with the long brown beard,” Linda said and was greeted by blank stares.

“I think she means Lily Hilton,” Ray corrected. Linda went on one of her childish rampages that endeared her to the staff, made her seem female, and made the all male staff appear to be in control as she rattled off in a six-year-old-style argument.

“That’s what I said, Lily Merrill!”

“She’s married now, her name now is Lily Hilton, and if you must know, she really likes to go by the name Mrs. Jeff Hilton.”

“No! No! No, Lily Merrill is who we need!” Linda’s persistence was so dogged that Ray realized her memories must be coming back to her. He could tell when her mind would short circuit because of the heavy programming she endured, the programming meant to put her at peace and make her a useless mouthpiece like Roy and Dale. Linda could seem so adult at times, even cold and menacing, but every so often her brain would blow a fuse and she would plunge back into the emotional state of a five-year-old. Everyone knew it and the men in the boardroom ducked for cover lest they get hit with a flying chair, but Ray was able to finally able to calm Linda down and they went on with the production meeting.

After the dust settled Linda finally returned to her home on the roof of 30 Rock, where Roy and Dale were sitting peacefully entranced at the television, Roy still the straight man and Dale the cheerleader who couldn’t keep her hands off her man. Linda smiled at this and quickly roused her puppets and readied them for their new task. They had the entire women’s tournament to cover and she knew the New York mind was resistant. Then she had a brainstorm and opened up her closet, which by 2012 had about every outfit imaginable for her Dale. Dale instinctively took her clothes off and got ready to be dressed up in Linda’s latest creation. She thought long and hard. If Lily Merrill wasn’t around, what would be the next great thing? Then she had an idea. She got out the tightest red, white and blue miniskirt for Dale and an American flag bikini top to top off with the team USA jacket. Nahh, that wasn’t her, not quite. Then she remembered her vision’s older self and gleefully dressed Dale in all denim with a “USA is Jesus, Jesus is Lord” T-shirt that showed off Dale’s enhanced breasts quite well, then took out a curling iron and did up Dale’s hair kind of straggly but well in place. She turned her around to show her Roy, and of course he did nothing but agree as Ray walked in and was aghast.

“What now, Linda?!” Ray exclaimed.

“Well, New Yorkers only respond to themselves! So, well, who better to make Dale look like than Virginia the Catholic Christian Kike, about the ONLY thing people watch around here that’s any good?” Linda said.

“Oh, I see now!” Ray said, realizing what she had done. Virginia, the confused Christian who was sure she was Jewish, was a staple on Channel 7 despite her age, less than appealing looks, and penchant for ad-libbing all sorts of nonsense before finally accepting Jesus at the end of every show. What a perfect nut to crack the madness that was New York! In fact, he called Channel 7 and suggested she be brought over as a celebrity correspondent; after all, given her age, people would still remember her and she did have that guest spot where she thought becoming a dyke was a good way to turn her man on in one of the funniest Quaker Show episodes ever.

The Olympics came and went and of course Lily Hilton and Sister D stole the show. Linda took extra care to have Roy take the time to explain Sister D playing in her custom made Victory sports habit by stating the famous line that confused thousands of homosexuals into accepting God.

“It’s just as good to not desire anyone as it is to get married, just as long as you aren’t violating everyone with that filth.”

When those lines were uttered ratings in New York skyrocketed across the channels and the HOPE program really got put on the map. Linda still got letters for years thanking her for saving their homosexual son or daughter. Indeed, it was her old coach who told her he had found a way to save most of his players before they were driven to suicide or worse, New York.

The day after the closing ceremonies, Mr. Edwards was getting ready to leave and pack up most of the Channel 1 staff to go back to Hollywood. Marty had left years ago, and now Mr. Edwards wanted Linda to go with Ray to head the sports division.

“No! I won’t leave here, I like it here, like it, like it! I won't go, you can't make me!” Linda said, in another one of her juvenile regressions she had whenever she was confused or unhappy. They were a trigger that kept her madness from destroying what was left of her mind and made her comfortable, like she really was just a little girl playing with dolls. Mr. Edwards knew privately about the accident. Ray had told him out of guilt as her career was taking off and he had no problems with it; in fact her instability was what made her writing so appealing, especially with Dale. Without the accident, they would be just another boring announce crew, so he thought long and hard. His orders were clear. Anyone who could have been saved had been. The asylum state was down to just the 5 boroughs and Long Island and that was fine with them, as was the abandonment of Westchester County to put space on the only land border between the mad and the sane. The goal was to abandon 30 Rock for good just like the other broadcast hubs had been, but something told him that in her madness she was right. She couldn’t function in the man's world of Hollywood, surrounded by all the blank faces and mindless giggles. Her programs still were about the only time any New Yorker WOULD tune into Channel 1. He called Mr. Welch on his cell phone.

“Sir, the only way we get New Yorkers is by having programming originate from there. Leaving now would just make the asylum state grow,” he explained, expecting a tirade but everyone knew he was right. Besides, with Mexico and the Caribbean on the horizon, they would need every white woman reproducing as much as possible to keep the demographics steady and within their range. Within days the decision was reversed and almost everyone in New York stayed there, the large military presence and the secret government subway that led directly into a protected area of Grand Central the only clues that something was wrong.

The only question about Linda in the office was if she was really married. There were many rumors. One was that she was lesbian but abstained from all sex in penance to the Lord and that was why she encouraged so many young woman into the HOPE program. Another was that she was so tired of caring for Roy that she made him into a trophy husband in a rather gross reversal of gender roles that was hated more than the reformed lesbian theory. One person even wondered if her darker than normal, yet hardly black, skin showed some miscegenation in her past so that she avoided any other children to hide her ancestor’s shame; a week later the woman and her husband were the local sports crew on the New York Channel 1 local news and a very poor ripoff of Roy and Dale’s show. The last one was that her husband was killed in Iran and it drove her into madness and that writing was the only thing that kept her from turning into a complete idiot. Whatever the theory, she was left alone. No one questioned her role as a woman working for longer than a few years to build a nest for a family or to find a suitable husband. Even as things tightened and women worked less and less, her power grew. The numbers were there. Women’s basketball became the bridge between the homosexuals and the mainstream people. As gay men slowly drifted out of the picture, her broadcasts grew more influential. More and more people were herded off to HOPE camps and many more female athletes were trained to ensure their empowerment would not get the best of them.

Linda was a hot ticket and the producers begged her to take Roy and Dale into mainstream media, or at least other sports, but she wouldn’t budge.

”But you can't play soccer in these cute little dresses!” Linda protested. Dale instinctively twirled around in her jersey dress, now Victory’s top-selling product for women, and smiled blankly as she always did. “She could guest on the Quaker Show, or do an interview with Natalie, I’d fly out for that.”

The truth was they wanted Roy and Dale to do the women’s game of the week on Channel 1. Her broadcasts were pure genius and if she would let herself spread the message, things would be even better. But Mr. Edwards and Ray knew her secret, basketball was the only linchpin keeping her from falling apart. Behind the camera at a game she was a different person; indeed it was like she would give in to her programming for those two hours and BE Roy and Dale, a mindless puppet calling things as they saw them on the screen and inserting the plugs as needed. It was the joy that she experienced playing the sport that kept her under control and gladly reciting Britney’s doctrine to the masses. Basketball was the water in which her brain could breathe and swim in the conformist fishbowl that was Channel 1 America; without it she couldn’t breathe and she would wither and die, sinking into her madness for good. Ray thought quickly and had an idea.

“We are at war with China. Add in the constant professional seasons and college season, throw in a high school All-Star game, throw out the holiday weeks of course, and that leaves two blank spaces. What a better way to show our dominance over the gook than to have some exhibitions with the non-Chink gook states, like the Japs or the Kwanks?” he asked and the schedule was complete. Linda also had her own daily live show on Channel 9 for the basketball review from the sports bar in Times Square, not to mention guest spots. Roy and Dale were a hot item, and the friendly match from the most neutral ground they could find – the former state of Hawaii – drew Quaker Show-like numbers as Roy and Dale called every gory detail of the 194-50 blowout with added glee over putting the Jap with their flimsy cars and virus-infested computers in their place. Indeed, even the most dirt-poor American junked their old Japanese car for a new American car even if it cost them their life savings to do so. The last bastion of foreign imports was finally exterminated, all though a simple women’s game. Combined with reinforcement across the channels, the Chinese War became a war to rid the world of all Asians just like the Iraq war was about ridding the world of Muslims. Riots and murders across Asian centers grew rampant and Linda saw a large bonus check in her mailbox because of it.

Her circuits began to short again as she read why she got this $100,000 bonus. An Asian was a root cause of the Statue of Liberation... no... her scrambled mind was confusing the past, present and future to the point she could not think straight and looked at the Quaker Show for relief. She saw Tracy, all smug and grown up, pregnant with her first child, and Natalie looking envious and declaring that her two kids were just not enough. The white woman needed one more to grow the ranks. Indeed, the Channel 5 wives were content with only children while the Channel 4 women were too busy selling burgers at O’Reilly’s to be having to worry about any more mouths to feed than their own. It made sense to Linda and it put her mind at ease. The pain in her knees grew and she realized how tired she had become and she realized she needed to fully become a woman again. She thought for a while as she undressed herself and laid naked next to her Roy. Since the accident, this had been the release for both her desires and the love she still had in her heart for her husband. She couldn’t sleep without him, basically a giant teddy bear for her to hold at night while she always had Dale sleep on the couch right in front of them, so she could always wake up and see for herself that her adultery could not drive apart a true married couple. At least in the warped mind of Linda Wolfe.

The next morning Linda awoke with a plan in hand. She was much too old and tired to be thinking about children, but Dale was in her prime and had no children of her own. Yes, her own kids would be away at school and she knew how to get Ray out of the way. So she took her money on an off day and knew exactly who to approach as she went on her mission. She braided up Dale’s hair just right and picked up the right outfits. She knew what lines to use, since she had had the script written in her head for years. After all, it was what brought Linda her first child more than 10 years ago. She figured out the right day and got Dale ready. She had everything planned. She had Roy propose to Dale with an exact copy of the wedding ring she still wore, remembering every bad joke and funny line they had. Then to consummate the new marriage. She knew the scene perfectly, Roy seated at the computer slaving away as always.

“Jeez, you think about basketball about as much as my coach, and you DO know I sent his wife my condolences in my last column,” Dale said playfully, rubbing Roy’s shoulders.

”Why do you think I went through the trouble of marrying a basketball player to avoid that problem?” Roy countered before punctuating that thought with a deep kiss. “That, and all the lesbians around you sure taught you well in the art of being a good kisser.”

“Nahh, it’s more how much I love you, Roy.”

”Likewise, Linda. I'll always love you,” Roy said to Dale, who played the role of Linda very convincingly as Linda became dreamy at the scene, never forgetting the day. Word for word, thought by thought, becoming aroused as her two puppets acted out the scene exactly as she remembered it. She remembered every detail of that night as she saw herself more and more in Dale’s place as they passionately made love before all three falling asleep.

The process grew more and more throughout the season as Dale’s lines on the air became wittier and funnier. She fawned less but her sense of timing made their attachment seem almost stronger. In fact the only change that the audience saw was the change of number on Dale's trademark jersey dresses, from 21 to 50.

Right before the playoffs Linda got the news she was waiting for and she burst into Ray’s office with the news.

“Sorry, I can’t do the college season this year!” Linda said in a sing-song voice.

“What?!” Ray explained and Linda waved around the test stick for everyone to see.

“I’m pregnant!” Linda said with a giggle.

Now Ray was just dumbfounded. What in the world caused this?! Who was the father? And the way she was gloating he realized that she must have used Roy as her sex doll. A common practice among producers, but then again, most producers had trophy WIVES, not husbands. But what could he do? Everyone knew they were married, and he would risk giving away top trade secrets to explain everything, and he would have to reveal the accident. He knew what he had to do.

“You do realize you can’t work til you have the kid,” he said, still hoping this was some false pregnancy from the stress of the heavy schedule. “Which means Roy and Dale can’t work either.”

“Oh I know THAT, silly. Who else will cook for me while I’m laid up? Dale will be very useful during this time,” Linda said with a wink. She liked Ray, and it was a tough thing deceiving him, but she had to give some notice of what she did. Truth be known, she had a small girlish crush on Ray, but she knew both were married even if Ray helped take care of her kids most of the time.

Ray had a small idea of what she had done, but didn’t even want to think about it. Linda had earned the time off anyway and she could raise one kid, especially with a daughter just entering high school; no, the pride on her face suggested that she still remembered her two girls. Still, he couldn’t bear witness to this abomination, whatever it was. So he took over writing duties for Matt and Cameron in Hollywood during that time period and Linda’s plan continued.

With the pregnancy in place it was time to finish the transformation. Late at night she took Dale down to the film room that poisoned both of them years ago. She knew how to operate the production equipment quite well by now, and for this purpose, it would not take much knowledge. She popped in an old tape of her playing days and watched as her puppet took to her feeding like the baby she was carrying soon would be. For the next 9 months Dale quite literally would cease to exist; whatever thoughts of her past were left were gently lulled into a deep hibernation and Linda’s past uploaded into her empty brain. Dale quickly and without resistance morphed overnight into Linda’s clone. She would, of course, never be seen out of her home, but this transformation was needed so that Dale could not gain any thought of the child being her own and to make Linda’s child more her own in her deranged thoughts. Linda had no mercy for her puppet, even implanting strong sensations of pain in her knees to make her less mobile and share the suffering Linda had to go through every day as the television chained her to the high heeled shoes that she now slipped off, now relieved of them for the present time. To Linda, this pregnant woman had now been absorbed into her, making her a new mother and fulfilling her womanly duties. She kissed Roy for receiving this blessing and gleefully returned upstairs, only to emerge to get food and other needed items and to sneak out in the middle of the night to get her clone to the doctor she knew would be loyal to her by an unwritten code of her past.

Ray flew in as soon as he got the call that Linda had given birth to a healthy 10lb boy and was asked to be the first to see her. He found it odd that she chose Brooklyn-LIJ Hospital, but she said she trusted the doctor there more than anyone. He walked down to her room and saw her holding the baby, baby Richie in her arms with a wide, tired smile on her face. Ray knew exactly what happened now, although he had always suspected; he could see the portable production equipment in the room down the hall with the firmly drawn curtains and then saw the small wisps of blond hair and the unmistakable bright blue eyes on the baby.

“Wasn’t it a miracle at my age, Ray?” Linda asked.

“Yes, a real act of God,” he replied with a heavy heart. He knew he was as guilty as she was for this manipulation, if not more. He created Linda, after all; for all he knew, fake preg bellies and all, she most likely experienced every part of the pregnancy as if it WAS hers.

A month later everything was back to normal, albeit with three kids. Her oldest was becoming a standout freshman center in High School and already her old coach was looking for Rosalie to attend Linda’s alma mater and Linda couldn’t be happier. Even as fear over homosexuality and basketball grew, Linda threw more passion and excitement into each broadcast. Indeed even as ratings fell everywhere else for women’s basketball, people still looked to Roy and Dale and the HOPE Game of the Week. To the people it was entertainment, even as more and more of the game got censored and replaced with Dale fawning over Roy. Linda sensed things were going wrong but she was shocked when she was called into Mr. Edwards’ office.

“Linda, the HOPE program is ending and we want you to lead the charge of the dyke straight to hell where they belong! You have two choices, stay here and have Roy and Dale promote soccer and softball as wholesome sports or move to Hollywood and we’ll give Roy and Dale their own comedy talk show during daytime. They still draw great ratings, but we cannot promote a dyke machine like women’s basketball anymore!” Mr. Edwards said coldly, and Linda could not help but cry.

“You know she only does basketball! Can she do the men’s games at le…” The mere thought of doing men’s games made Linda push Ray out of his chair and to the floor. Both men knew they were dangerously close to creating a monster if they did not find a way to quell her runaway emotions as Linda ran out of the room screaming.

“Our production equipment is stronger now. Maybe it will lull her to sleep, maybe she’s tired and that’s what she wants. She can be the old lady know-it-all soccer expert with Roy and Dale,” Mr. Edwards said and the decision was made to see if they could finish what could not be completed.

Ray set up the tape room but when he looked for Linda she was nowhere to be found, just Roy and Dale intertwined in a blissful slumber. To the untrained eye supposedly married couples of actors often were stored like this, but Ray knew Linda would NEVER let Dale into Roy’s arms except when she reprogrammed Dale into herself to have her son. Ray called the secretary and she said Linda had left to get her daughter. Ray rushed to the high school but Linda had already left with Rosalie. He rushed to the middle school for her other daughter, but she was safely in class and her Richie was tucked away for his nap at the preschool where the television would dictate their every move, as was the case in the late 2010s. No, she only wanted her oldest. He remembered his Bible and now seriously feared for her safety. He ran up the private elevator he had set up for her and prayed that Linda had not killed her firstborn but the elevator stopped at Linda’s work floor and Linda stood there, calm and smiling. Her words came seriously and this relieved Ray, who was used to Linda’s childish tantrums.

“Hello, Ray. I wanted to see you,” sbe said, her voice flattening into a monotone. She was struggling to find words, so she simply led Ray to the production room.

“Better popstar, teen sensation, seventeen cover girl, than a D-d-d-d-d…L-l-l-l-l-l…Baaaasssss…” Linda’s voice started failing and her eyes grew steely and cold. Ray could barely understand what she was saying so he walked over to the control panel and there he saw her oldest daughter, sprawled out in the blissful trance he’d seen so many protégés go through on their way to Britney’s calling, her eyes glued to the teenage pop tarts on the screen as she drifted deeper into the erotic lullaby that would slowly make her numb and mindless in less than a day. He looked at Linda; her eyes were almost as glassy as her daughter's and he wondered if she was giving in, wanting that disconnection from reality, wanting it so bad she had to share it with her daughter. Ray then saw her daughter take off her soccer jersey. No one had dared tell Linda that she had quit basketball after feeling her leg become entangled with another’s. She had become a great soccer player in the past 18 months. He wondered if this was why Linda had decided to give her daughter to Hollywood, knowing the emptiness.

“You’d rather her be a whore than a soccer player?” Ray asked. “Or are you tired? Do you want to just relax the way your daughter is relaxed? No more pain in your knees, everything cared for you like you cared for your husband and Dale for so long? You were destined for this.” Linda was unresponsive as he slowly led her to the tape room to join her daughter. Indeed a mother-daughter pair could draw quite good ratings if used properly. As he opened the door he saw Linda instinctively undo her belt and take off her jacket and blouse, and he thought for sure she was already out on her feet. Instead, she shoved him inside, and he turned around and saw the faded blue basketball jersey that barely fit now. He realized he was in trouble as Linda slammed the door. He tore at the lock trying to get out, but one quick kiss from Rosalie as she whispered, “Teach me, professor, I am ready to learn,” and Ray thought no more as he fell to the floor to become yet another face behind a high school math program in the high schools.

Linda went up her private elevator and into her penthouse. Her mind now had frozen in a hate filled trance. She could no longer speak the commands to Roy and Dale and decided to hit a preprogrammed scene button used for filler time and rehearsals. She hit the right button as Dale quickly slipped off her jersey dress and made to undress Roy. The moment both were naked, she hit the stop button, and both froze waiting for instruction. She used the silent manual controls to get Roy to heroically scoop up Dale as she went limp in his arms and carry her over to the ledge on the roof. He kissed her goodbye and dropped her out the window. Then Linda came over and kissed her husband one last time as she shoved him out the window. She threw on a trenchcoat and went back into her elevator to the lobby. No one even noticed her state as she walked out the door before Roy and Dale could even shatter on the ground.

The statue of the Lady now enthralls the woman formerly known as Linda Wolfe. Her cement form so perfect, about her size and shape, a little more blonde, a little more white and a lot more dead. As the concrete dried around the blonde, her voice box tingled but could not form words. Instead, she hummed a familiar tune that the old man standing next to her helps her with as they stare at the statue, captivated for hours, before Roz Jennings shows up in all red. Their siren call is more powerful than Britney’s to her as she presents them with the poisoned bodies of her co-workers and quickly is adopted into the pack of the Lone Wolves.

"Linda?" Roz asks. A sharp glare erases that thought from her brain. She fumbles with her hands for a moment before spreading the fingers of her right hand and curling her left into a fist. 5-0. And 50 stands in her utter madness, voiceless, mindless, and there to control all who see her.

“Things always turn out as planned in the end, don’t they?” the old man says to the one in red with a chuckle as they continue their song.