The legislature of Quebec has introduced those splendid machines that so many of the best American offices have, computers for distributing the written word.

Mlle. X (who has threatened lawsuits and even graver things to the first man who divulges her name) arrived in her office to begin her day's task as stenographer for the legislature and, no doubt after a few coffees and cakes and adjustments of her current coiffure in the Women's Lounge, sat down to work.

Her first effort worth recording was a letter to a girlfriend overseas:

"Men!" she exclaimed, "They're not easy to understand."

She pounded along on her machine, emitting profound thoughts to her girlfriend in this beautiful letter (the legislature had a committee pondering heavy matters of labor and manpower and surely, Mlle. X thought, there's no need to pay any attention to that nonsense, so she rattled right along in her letter):

"My love life is a bit dull. I haven't seen him for two weeks. Tell me if you meet a nice good-looking guy. Solitude is a heavy burden."

Well. Her burden is lighter now, solitude-wise, since her letter typed into the computer has been distributed far and wide. All members of the legislature got a copy. So did half the newspaper reporters of Canada. So did all the legislative aides of Quebec. Hundreds, all told.

All the nice good-looking guys are thinking of volunteering to make Mlle. X feel better about men.

The distribution of the young woman's lovelorn plaint was described by the third assistant deputy somebody of the legislature as a "technical error."

There used to be live men who copied and printed words typed in offices, and most of them (in those days) knew a girl's letter about her love life was not supposed to be distributed to everybody and his Cousin Will. Computers do not know anything, despite the brilliant maintenance technicians who service them.

Computers are the greatest things since the invention of slavery and nobody in a modern office would dream of saying anything against them. The only question around here, in the immediate neighborhood of my own desk, is how it happened that the computer worked efficiently enough to get the thing printed and distributed. Miracles still happen in Quebec.