Laura stared at the strange lady who had knocked on her door.  To call her anything but a lady felt improper somehow.

First of all she was tall, at least 6 foot.  She had a round friendly face that should have been soft, but looked more like it was made of steel.  She had blond frizzy hair that didn't bounce and bob like normal hair.  It held in place like a platoon at attention.  She wore strange clothing.  It looked like it would have been better suited to life in the mid 19th century.  Very stiff and formal by today's standards.  She had a white bibbed blouse with a straight high collar.  The bib was made of sewn down pleats that flared out at the edges of the bib.  To dress it up, she had a blue ribbon tied around her neck. The bow looked like it had been starched straight. She had a wide black leather belt that held up a set of faun riding pants.  Strangest of all were her boots.  They were old fashion scalloped topped granny boots with bronze trimming and straight tight lacings.

"You done taking inventory?" The lady asked her with a mocking eyebrow.

Laura gulped and tried to look into the lady's face.  She failed and ended up looking at the knot of the ribbon. "I'm sorry," she told the ribbon.  Laura riffled through her memory for something appropriate  to say. "Um, how can I help you?"  She felt like the Wal-mart greeter for her own home. Thank you for shopping at Laura's apartment.  You can find Ladies Ware in the closet to your left.  To your right is the grocery department.  Hope to see you soon.

Abby's no nonsense voice brought Laura back to the here and now.

"My name's Abby.  I just moved in next door.  Don't you think this is a grand house?  It has lots of personality.  I lived in one like this a couple of life times ago.  Anyway, I don't have a phone yet and I was wondering if I could use yours to order a pizza.  You are welcome to come over and share with me.  Heaven knows I don't know a soul her in Fredericton.  So where can I find it?"

Laura realized that by that last comment there was a question somewhere in that speech.  She quickly reviewed what had been said and found the correct reference.

"Ah, um, sure -- the phone is over here on the table."

"That's great.  You keep this place very tidy.  Do you do it yourself or do you hire a maid?  Not much room in your kitchen, you must eat out often.  Here's the phone.  I still can not beleive that we are now able to talk to someone across town the same way you can talk to someone in the next room.  This is much more convenient that have to send someone with w message. Hello?  Hello?  Yes I would like a large all-dressed pizza sent to ....  What is the address here?"

"Oh, ah, 110 Church Street."

"110 Church Street apartment 8.  And can I get a bottle of soda pop with that? Great.  Have a nice evening." She put the phone back and took in even more of the apartment."It is simply lovely what you have done with this room.  I love the solid wood bed.  Oh you have a cat!  What a sweet little thing. Must not like strangers."

This surprised Laura. Abby was correct,  Liz definately did NOT like strangers and always hid when anybody was over. Most people didn't realize she even had a cat.  Not that she had many people over. Laura looked around and eventually found Liz hiding in her favorite hiding spot under the radiator. Abby must have very good eyes.

"Um, that's Liz.  She's a barn cat.  Doesn't like people much."  Laura wondered if Abby was going to stay until the pizza came.

"Who does like people? Oh my goodness.  Here I've been jammering on and I haven't let you get a word in.  What's your name?"

"Laura."

"Laura : honour, fame, spirit.  Good solid name.  Mine was originally Abigail - ugh- 'a father's joy'.  I changed it to Abby when I ... when I took up my career."

Laura knew that in normal conversation she was supposed to say: "What do you do?"  But something in Abby's eyes let Laura know that such a question would be uninvited.

"Well Laura, we should head over to my place before the pizza arrives.  Can you grab a couple of plates and glasses.  I'm afraid I don't have anything.  Usually I get a furnished apartment, but the only ones available currently smelled heavily of men plus this house is very cozy to me.  Sorry Liz, I don't think that you really like discovering new places.  Let's take this show on the road."

Before Laura could really figure out what was happening, Abby had swept them into her apartment, set up a picnic on the floor, and was poking around in a carpet bag for some candles.  In fact, the carpet bag was the only thing that Abby had other than what Abby was wearing.

"You're noticing my lack of luggage.  I usually travel light -- just one bag.  It helps at border crossings.  I usually stock op on things when I have settled at a place where I am going to stay for more than a couple of days.  I don't think this trip would be too long, but there are so many unknowns."

Laura once again felt the occupation question on the tip of her tongue. And once again it was shut down by the glint in Abby's eyes.

"So enough about me, what to you do for a living, Laura?"

"I'm the webmaster for Amtel."  Wait for it......

"That's nice. ... What exactly does a webmaster do?"

Laura was expecting this.  For years, no one understood was her actual job was.  There are executives at Amtel that still don't understand.  Nowadays people had a clearer understanding of the Internet, but they still though of her as a glorified graphic artist.  She didn't even do the graphics for Amtel.  They had their own graphic artists.  She just wove the pages together and made sure nothing broke.  She didn't even write the words.  They had copy clerks for that.  The Wikipedia had a good definition: "Core responsibilities of the webmaster include the regulation and management of access rights of different users of a website, the appearance or design of a website, and setting up website navigation. Content placement can be part of a webmaster's responsibilities, while content creation is typically regarded as something that is not part of what a webmaster does."  She often wondered if typesetters had this problem when the printing press was invented.

Laura came back to herself and realized that Abby was still looking at her expectantly.  "I maintain Amtel's website."

"You realize," Abby said as she raised an eyebrow, "That that explanation is like a widget whacker explaining that his job is to whack widgets.  You still don't know what a widget is.  What is a website?"

"Website is a page on the Internet that you can can view using a browser."

"Internet?"

"A large network of computers."

"Computers are those things that spout red tape and always lose information?  People with books and files are much more reliable record keepers." Abby pursed her lips. "Things worked better when people did the thinking and machines did the work."

Laura was about to launch into a diatribe about the many ways that computer's have helped the world, but she was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Pizza's here!" Abby flew to the door.

I must be tired, Laura thought to herself.  But I swear that one moment Abby was sitting in front of me and the next she was at the door.