Deborah Jo Parker walked slowly across the tarmac, towards the huge building that formed the airport. It was the main terminal building at Dulles Airport in Northern Virginia near Washington D. C. She had been traveling this short distance from the employee' parking lot to the terminal five days a week for over twenty-four years and had finally attained the position Team Leader of the team that cleaned the terminal every night. From midnight to 4:00 am she led her team in getting the job done, working as hard as anyone on the job to make sure nothing was missed or short changed. The hardest parts were the bathrooms since a lot of people always figured that a public bathroom was a place to not worry about missing the urinal, dropping pieces of toilet paper, used or unused, splashing water over the edge of the sink, plus many more minor and non-minor mishaps, accidental or intended. She felt a dedication to the job few could manage.

During the twenty-four years she had worked there, she had married, had four children, watched them grow up and go on to better jobs than she had ever held. They had higher pay, better and easier hours, and better chances to get into upper management. She was proud of her accomplishments in these endeavors, although most of the people going through the terminal paid no attention to what she did. To them, she was just another cleaning lady to go around as they hurried through the terminal on the way to the important things in their lives. Most never took time to understand that she had important things in her life also. Keeping an airline terminal clean was important, only she really knew how important. Her management let her do her own thing because she did the job superbly, never needing reminding of anything. They went on their round of duties each day and went home to their families knowing that everything was perfect. They only really acknowledged her if someone commented on the cleanliness of the place. Then they would mention Debbie, the cleaning lady, and state that cleanliness is something they never have to worry about because they have Debbie and her team. Then they would pause, and finally give her the ultimate praise. The terminal is always in great shape because:

Debbie Does Dulles.

She loved her job. It was easy, had a low level of supervision, and left her time to work on other things she enjoyed, like writing fiction, playing bridge on the computer, or talking on the phone. She was currently working on her family genealogy in which she had found and documented several ancestors who had been royalty in the middle ages, including two kings. She planned to publish this as a book and sell it to her relatives. Her full name was Captain Phyliss Deborah Alsinki, although she much preferred everyone to call her Deborah or Debbie. She came from a long line of government employees, all proud of the job they did, always doing it well, and happily retired to spend their time on their many hobbies and being with their families.

She had been on this job four years, monitoring and managing the launch computers for two hundred ICBM missiles, each with a nuclear warhead that could destroy any city in the world. Nothing had required her to take action since it had been a time of nuclear peace for the last ten years.

The ICBMs and their warheads had only required a mandatory full operational checkup every three months. Part of the checkup procedure was to fully realign the launch coordinates on every missile. This was a simple process which involved running the individual launch system on each missile through a series of coordinates and returning it back to its original setup. Each of the check coordinates included New York City, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Miami, Dallas/Fort Worth, Minneapolis, New Orleans, and on down to many medium size cities. After the checks were run, the coordinates were returned to their original settings.

Deborah had assisted her superiors in running through this procedure sixteen times over her four years as a missile control officer. She knew the process down to the last comma and period. She didn't even need a review, she understood it that well.

As the senior officials entered the room, Deborah greeted them by name and asked about their well-being and their families. Each one responded briefly and moved to their positions preparing to start the check run. At a signal from the colonel in charge, they looked towards Deborah and nodded for her to start the procedure.

Deborah reached down, pushed the blue button, and watched to make sure everything started correctly. Once rolling, all she had to do was sit back and keep an eye on things. After all the times she had been involved in this, she found it easy to stay very relaxed throughout the test, thinking about things that she had to get done after work.

All of a sudden there was a loud crashing noise and Deborah hurriedly reached out and pushed herself up with her hands. As she looked around she saw that the sound had come from one of the lieutenants who had accidentally knocked over his chair.

"That really scared me. I had no idea what happened," Deborah remarked. Looking back at her monitor, her eyes grew large, her face flushed. The screen was flashing "Launch, launch, launch." This had never happened before. The colonel came running over, looked at the monitor, then at the console. "Oh my God. You both hit the red button when you jumped. That initiates full launch of all 200 missiles. We have to stop it."

"We can't," said a captain standing beside him. "It is now fully automatic."

"My God," said the colonel, "what coordinates were in place when you hit the button?"

"I think it was Los Angeles. No, it was past that. Let me check and see. Ah ha, it was two steps past Los Angeles, so that would be Dallas.

Within hours all of the news media had large, screaming headlines saying:

"Debbie Dooms Dallas."

At last she got to go into town on her own and do some shopping. She had a long list of items including clothes, shoes, and a number of hair and makeup items to look for. Her name was Deborah Marilyn McStine and she had grown up on a farm outside of Dallas, Texas. Just far enough outside of town to make it difficult to get into town easily on her own. But now she was eighteen years old and could make the trip by bus on her own. She also had her first debit card with a limit of $2,000, she felt all grown up now and was going to show it. Her Dad dropped her off at the local bus stop and waited with her until the bus came and she was on it. Finally she was on her way.

Upon arrival in downtown Dallas she stepped off the bus and turned to look for a taxi. As she moved away from the bus, a bicycle rider came rolling along the walkway between the busses, hitting her with the handlebar and knocking her to the ground. As the bicyclist hurried on his way, the bus driver came quickly down the steps of the bus.

"My gosh girl, didn't you hear him coming? Are you hurt?" he asked as he reached down to help her up.

"I don't think so. Maybe just some bruises. I'll be all right in a minute or two".

She picked up her purse, checked it, and headed to the taxi stand. As she approached the single taxi waiting there, an elderly couple rushed in front of her and jumped into it. She almost fell off the curb, stepped back and yelled a dirty word as the taxi pulled away. It would be twenty minutes before another taxi would arrive.

Once downtown, Deborah was anxious to start...