Late Sunday evening Theodore received a phone call informing him that he in fact had not returned a movie that he had rented upwards of eighteen months ago. The lady on the other side of the telephone line requested that he please return the video at his nearest convenience, and that his late fine was equal, as of today, to one thousand six hundred fourteen dollars and thirty cents, with tax. And thank you sir for your cooperation. Theodore, who had been standing by the telephone in the kitchen of his tiny apartment, sat down in a chair and furrowed his brow in confusion. Eighteen months ago? He had a difficult time remembering vividly what he had had for dinner last weekend. Was this a prank call? Fifteen, sixteen hundred dollars? That'd buy any movie he could think of at least thirty times over. No, he had heard movie-store noise in the background. It seemed pretty absurd. It didn't make any sense at all - what ridiculousness. And anyhow, he certainly didn't have $1614.30 lying around - he felt fortunate with a couple hundred dollars in the bank after rent and groceries and insurance and all. Oh well, I'll deal with it tomorrow. It must be some mistake. Obviously some mistake. I'll call them after work tomorrow, he thought. Upon going to bed, though, sleepy as he was, he struggled for hours, tossing and turning, unable to erase the thoughts of overdue movies from his mind, interspersed with occasional pangs of guilt from his childhood library-book borrowing days. He didn't want to worry about it, worry over such an inconsequential computer error or misreading. Worry though he did. He finally threw off his blankets and switched on a lamp. Let's see, he thought. They said it was eighteen months ago. I probably did rent videos from that store back then. I'm pretty sure. But I certainly didn't rent movies very often, maybe once, twice every two months. I couldn't have forgotten to return one; the store's right on my way to work. And where would the movie be? In my car? In my house?