The Control Room                                       -      -      - 
(-------------------------------------------------)     - <---(M)---> -
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  A large switchboard stands wall to wall, its wires crisscrossing in a
maze of communication mastery.  A solitary operator imp scrambles, pulling
out wires from one place and pluging them back in elsewhere.  Occasionally,
she stands bewildered tracing lines with her finger in an attempt to figure
out who is connected to who.  Then with a monotone efficiency she connects
to line after line repeating, 'Sorry.  Mischannel.'  Certain lines begin to
glow red with the heated exchange of the parties conversing over them, and
everyso often a line will fizzle on one end cutting off communication
completely.  The operator imp does nothing to repair the fried lines but
rather shakes her head and mutters.