Dot swallowed. What on earth was Samson the Server doing? He must know who she was!
"Samson" she said. "Samson, it's me! Dot! missdorothy.com - you remember!"
To her relief, Sam the Server smiled. A big fat smile. Just like his old self. And his face went back to its usual gold colour. But then he went: "Dot, dot, dash - mummy made a hash - put it in the cooker and gave the dish a bash!"
And then his face kind of sunk, and he was frowning again - and the faded yellowy colour came back. He looked so sad.
Dot was really worried now. There was something VERY wrong with Samson. She didn't know what to say.
Someone else did though. As usual!!
"Hey big guy" said Mr Mouse, walking up to Samson so he was right underneath the big screen with the server's face on it. "Give us some sense, now! What's going down, brother?"
Dot closed her eyes and Wizzie let out a BIG sigh. It was so embarrassing!
But for once, Mr Mouse had said the right thing. His cheeky words seemed to bring Samson back to life.
"Brother... brother... " the server went. "Everyone's my brother!"
Then he seemed to see Dot and Wizard and Mr Mouse for the first time, and his big sun face trembled.
"Dot... Dot!" he said breathlessly. "Thank all the powers of the Net that you're here! We're in big trouble. You've got to help us!"
"So... what's the problem?" asked Mr Mouse. "Whatever it is, it's making you mighty sick. And all your stuff, too!"
It was true. All the machines and computers round Samson were very... quiet, really. They were working, yes, but everything they did was kind of jerky. The thousands of lights on the front of Sam's computers went out all together, then flashed on in a row, in a crazy way. The discs made a sort of grindy noise, every now and then.
And the dialling sounds, which meant phone lines were being called up to make an Internet or e-mail connection, were sort of... sick. And they never seemed to make a connection anyway. They just fizzed and crackled and then stopped. As for the broadband links, they looked all thin and weak - like grass when it's been turned yellow and brown by the sun.
"I know" said Sam. His voice was all croaky. Not like his usual happy, booming voice that nearly used to knock them over. "It's our memories - where we keep everything that makes the Internet work. We keep finding big gaps, big holes. We don't find stuff where we know we used to have it. Sometimes it comes back, but it's never the same. We're... we're... in big trouble... "
He stopped. Dot could see he was fading again.
She reached up and out her hand on the screen. "Sam" she whispered, gently so as not to upset him. "Sam... what do we have to do?"
Sam made a big effort, like someone trying to get up after falling down and banging her head.
"You... must... "
"Must what? What?? TELL US!" shouted Mr Mouse.
It was cruel - but it worked.
"Go... go... and see... The Zildiths of Phargon! Only they... only they... "
But he'd gone. With a fssst! his big sun face faded away from the screen.
Samson - the mighty Sam the Server - had vanished!
