Well, I fled halfway around the world, executing a deft handball to a man in space, but they still found me (OK, so I'm mixing my metaphors pretty wildly there). It seems that, while they can be born, standards never die. The report I wrote on my last day of work has come in for some commentary, and the request has found me. As such, I will spend this morning trying to perform the necessary life-preserving functions needed to keep the damn thing ticking. Of course, in many ways the disease is terminal anyway, since if there isn't an implementation available soon, the thing will die at the Business Committee anyway. We may be done with the past, but the past, my friend, is not done with us.