News Item: After two years of careful consideration, OSHA posts an advisory opinion that employers are responsible for the safety of employees working at home. It states that OSHA is "unlikely" to inspect home offices.

News item: Labor Secretary Alexis Herman says "Never mind."

8:00 AM, Somewhere in Silicon Valley, a knock on the door:

The door slowly opens just enough to reveal a sleepy-eyed young man in full scraggly-haired bedheadedness.

"Good morning, sir. Are you Otto Code, Internet Developer for GoingIPO.com, Inc?" The smiling man at the door holds an official-looking identification badge.

"Yeah, dude. That's me. What's goin' on?"

"Sir, my name is Max Intrusion, OSHA Safety Inspector, and I am here to inspect your workplace," came the reply.

"Huh? Are you f___in' nuts, dude? This is my house. You can't do that." Though truly upset, Code's voice was less sure than his words.

Intrusion's smile never waivers. "Ordinarily true, sir. Without this court order, I would need your permission to enter."

Code groans, but lets the strangely cheerful inspector in. He is greeted by the welcoming aroma of brewing coffee mingled with the familiar smell of stale beer and staler pizza.

Suddenly, Code shouts, "Dude! Watch your step. You almost took my f___in' Mosix cluster out. You tryin' to put me out of business, man?"

Intrusion looks down to see that his foot has just missed a lazy jumble of colored cables feeding into an ethernet hub. His face reddens with alarm. "Do you realize how dangerous this is?," he shouts, " I could have been seriously injured." He stops to jot a few words in his notebook, then continues. "Clear violation, Mr. Code. Those cables should be run inside the walls by a qualified electrician."

"Dude! That would cost more than my whole f___in' system! This whole thing is built with free software and hand-me-down systems. Besides, I rent this place, dude, and I ain't payin' no f___in' electrician to wire it. Nobody else comes in here, anyway, not even my girlfriend. I ain't been hurt yet."

"I need to see your work area."

Code leads the inspector into the bedroom that serves as his command center. The room is nearly dark, lit only by the glow from four 21" monitors, two each on opposite sides of the room. Scenes from "Dark City" play beneath a hand-scrawled four line sign:

" Magna Carta
Declaration of Independence
Emancipation Proclamation
DeCSS"

Poi Dog Pondering plays softly on one side of the room, Santana on the other. A tower of empty pizza boxes rose in the middle of the room, protected by a barricade of Jolt and Mountain Dew cans. CD's are piled here and there, some jewel-cased, some not.

"This is completely unacceptable," Intrusion clucks, "They should provide you a proper office with proper lighting."

"Who the f___ are you talkin' about?" Code was alarmed. "I'm the one who set this place up and it took me weeks to get my themes just right so I could work 16 hours without hurtin' my eyes. You turn the light on at your office, dude. Leave mine alone."

"Look here, young man, I'm just trying to protect you. You shouldn't have to work like this just so your employer can save a few dollars"

"Dude! What planet are you from? I work two jobs. Both companies are pre-IPO and my options could make me millions. If I had to go into an office, I could only work one of 'em. I'd have to buy a car. Dude, the roads are way too dangerous."

"Look, the agency spent two years working out this policy. It's for your own good."

"Two years! You guys must be morons. Don't you get it at all? The internet is the world's biggest Open Mike night. "Everybody can get into the game. Young, old, black, white, dude or chick. If you got the chops, you can chase the bucks." Code was just warming up.

"My whole setup uses free software and second-hand hardware. Cost me next to nothing. Stuff like Linux and Apache and the Gimp and StarOffice and Zope and qmail. Little guys can play with the big boys. Isn't that why the DOJ went after Microsoft?. Where do you get off sayin' I should be working in some proper office? Why do you want to make it harder for me to get in on the action? Why do you want me to drive somewhere and pollute the air? Don't you Bozocrats ever talk to each other?"

Too shocked to pay attention, Intrusion slips on a Mountain Dew can and goes flying face first into the pizza box tower. He lays sprawled and in pain for a few seconds, then curls up in a fetal position. Soon, Otto hears muffled sobs.

"What's the matter, dude? Are you hurt?"

"Not yet," comes the reply. "But I'd better not move."

Intrusion takes out a cell phone and calls his office. "Please, Please," he implores. "You've got to send someone. No, don't hang up! Please!"

Intrusion's smile is long gone now. "They won't send anyone to come get me. You have too many violations. They can't send someone here knowing how dangerous it is. Too much liability!! I'm stuck here."

Code whips out his own cell phone and dials *999. An animated conversation ends when Code shouts "What the f___?" and throws the phone to the floor.

Intrusion asks, "What's wrong?"

"They won't send anyone. It's not a police matter. You're not trespassing because you're here on official business."

"But what about the danger?"

"They don't consider messiness dangerous enough to come out. If I shoot you or somethin', they'll come right out. I don't have a gun or any kitchen utensils, so that's pretty much out."

Frightened by Code's glare, Intrusion rings his boss again. "Please. You've got to help me."

Code grabs the phone and gives the woman on the other end a piece of his mind. Code's face turns even glummer. "You're kidding," he says. The two talk a few minutes more until the conversation ends. "OK, if that's what it takes, that's what it takes." Code hands the phone back to Intrusion.

"Excuse me," Intrusion asks, "Could I have something to eat?"

"Sorry, dude, but your boss says no," Code replies.

"What? Why not?"

Code settles in before one of the monitors, fires up EMACS and starts to hack a little perl. "It's like this, dude. You can't move because you're afraid. Your boss can't send someone after you because it's dangerous. The police can't come because it's not a police matter."

Intrusion looks up, incredulous. "So?"

"Dude, all that's left is the Coroner and you gotta be dead first."

Code settles on Santana and cranks the volume as he goes about his work.

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