I am the only known DNA Dump Station. It appears that only one person, Susan B. Snavely of Iola, Kansas, can recognize DNA Dump Stations. I know this because she confronted me in the local McDonald's one day.
She commented, "You just keep getting taller every day, don't you?"

Having seen her before at the library and being exceptionally tall, I said, "Yes, I do." This was a mistake.

She then said, "That is because you are a DNA Dump Station." This small comment caught me completely offguard. The incredulity didn't stop there, however. She proceeded to mumble incomprehensible gobbledygook into her wrist. I was then informed that she was a Special Agent and had called the authorities (through her wrist, of course), and that they were going to take me away and depolarize me.

In the next ten minutes she told me things--things about the three computers and Threefold Monster Dogs in Dante's Divine Comedy. She explained how "they" couldn't eat for three years, and how "they" couldn't run for one year. She was very vague about who "they" were, but she seemed knowledgeable in this subject. She told me about who I was--literally, a DNA Dump Station--and why I was on this planet.

The conversation ended with her explaining to me about the aliens who had kidnapped her and put a chip in her ear. Occasionaly she puts aluminum foil over her head to block the signal.

We ran into each other again at Ray's Conoco. She was silent but very watchful of me. As I was returning to my car she once again mumbled imcomprehensible gobbledygook into her wrist, reporting me to the unseen authorities.

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