December 23, 1989. 7:45 AM. The Saturday before Christmas.
The mall is already packed, meaning one of the big anchor stores opened at 6:00 or something. I get to the store and raise the gate just enough to get into the store. Four customers duck under the gate before I can start lowering it again.
“We don’t open until 8:00,” I say.
Holding up a game, one of the customers asks, “Have you got this for the Commodore 64?”
“We aren’t open yet,” I repeat. “You can come back in at 8:00.”
Three of the customers leave. The C-64 guy is still holding the Atari game, ignoring me and looking on the PC compatible section.
“We aren’t open yet,” I say in my best I’m-being-patient-because-you’re-a-moron voice. I use that voice a lot during the Christmas sales season. “You can’t stay in store right now.”
“Huh?” the guy says, looking up.
“Leave. Now.” The store hasn’t even opened and I’m already out of patience.
The C-64 guy slips the Atari game onto the PC shelf. “All you had to do was say so. No need to be rude. You’re not the only software store in the mall, you know.”
“Yeah. There’s a Babbage's at the bottom of those stairs over there,” I say, pointing. “Their sales guy is just showing up. If you hurry, maybe you can duck under his gate and see how he reacts.”
I slam the gate shut and finally start getting everything ready to open the store.
Joy to the world.
8:25 AM
I land my first babysitting job of the season when a mother instructs her two boys to stay in the store and play games until she’s finished. The boys are maybe 11 and nine.
Looking across the store at me, she says, “Keep an eye on them, for me. They aren’t allowed to wander around the mall by themselves.” Then she’s gone, reabsorbed by the amorphous multi-celled blob known as Christmas shoppers.
She goes right to the top of my Mother of the Year list. Competition for the top spot had been tough this season, but I’m confident this display of maternal instinct will prove well nigh unbeatable.
I finish with the customer I was assisting and look for the two boys. Oh, bliss, They’ve decided to be helpful! They’ve taken all of the software in the Amiga section and scattered it on the floor. I tell them to leave the software alone.
The nine year old looks to the 11 year old. The 11 year old says, “We’re bored.”
“Not my problem,” I tell them.
“Mom told us to stay here and play games but you don’t have any games to play!” he accuses.
I start putting the Amiga shelf back together again. “Correct.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing,” I tell him.
“When she gets back, I’m going to tell my mom!” he threatens.
I bend down, look him directly in the eyes and hiss “So am I.”
I don’t have any more trouble from the two boys.
Joy to the world.
9:40 AM
The first complainer shows up. He's right on schedule.
“It took me twenty-five minutes to find a parking place,” he snarls at me.
I don’t say anything. Besides, he probably doesn’t want to hear that I’m required to park half a mile away from the mall so more spaces will be available for the customers.
“And that was after I spent 30 minutes crawling through the traffic just to get here!”
I’ve had to fight that traffic for the last seven days. I doubt he’s interested.
“All just to pick up this damned game for my kid,” he waves something for a PC compatible around.
I know the game and ask, “Do you have a VGA card in your computer?”
“A what?”
“A VGA graphics card,” I repeat. “The game requires a VGA graphics card to run.”
“How the hell should I know?” He’s back to snarling.
“If you could tell me what kind of computer you have I-“
“It’s an IBM,” he says.
“Actually made by IBM?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he answers.
“If you can tell me what model it is, maybe I can help you figure out if you’ve got a VGA card,” I tell him. It looks like I’m starting to get him calmed down.
“I know that! It’s a PC, Jr.”
Crap. I’m about to have the nothing-you-actually-want-will-run-on-a-PC-Jr. conversation.
Joy to the world.
10:15 AM
The Mother of the Year returns. I’m busy juggling questions from four different customers and don’t notice her return until she plants herself right in front of me.
“My boys tell me you didn’t let them play any games!” she says.
I signal the customer I was returning to that I’ll be just a minute. He nods sympathetically.
“We don’t have any machines set up in this store,” I tell her.
“You could have set one up!” she demands.
Snap!
“And you could have taken them with you,” I retort, “or left them at home! I am not a babysitter nor is it my job to entertain your children. That, madam, is your job. Now, take your children and leave my store!”
Now the Mother of the Year is truly furious. Like I care.
“I’m going to file a complaint with your manager!” she threatens.
“Go ahead!” I hiss back. What the hell, hissing worked on her boys, maybe it will work on her, too. "She hates people who treat us like babysitters as much as I do!"
“Hmph! Well, I can tell you we’ll never shop in this store again!” she says.
Joy to the world!
11:00 AM
Support finally arrives in the person of my co-worker, Bob. Thank God! I've got to piss like you wouldn't believe.
"Been busy?" he asks.
Our store is all of 500 square feet. There are at least two dozen customers in the store. It took Bob half a minute to get from the store entrance to the register at the back of the store. And he has to ask if it's been busy?
"Yes," I say. "Hurry up and sign in so I can use the can!"
Bob laughs. I'll give him that one. I'd have laughed in his place, too. It takes all of 15 seconds to sign in and grab a name tag. It only takes 10 seconds for a customer to approach me. She's holding at least half a dozen different computer games and looks completely confused. A typical customer, in other words.
She holds out all of the games, "Which of these would be a good game for a 13 year old boy?"
Feeling as if my eyeballs are starting to float, I take a look at what she's got. The Bard's Tale. M.U.L.E. Gauntlet. Skate or Die. California Games.
"Any of those would be fine," I answer and start edging toward the back office.
She's a pro, though, and not going to be deterred by my evasion. "But which one would be best?"
I'm tempted to just tell her to get M.U.L.E. But just because I think it's the best computer game ever designed doesn't mean the boy she's buying for will agree.
"What are some other games he likes to play?" I ask, cursing myself for taking my job more seriously than my bladder.
"I don't know," she answers. "It's for my nephew. My sister said he liked computer games and to get him one."
Uh oh, I'm stuck with a customer who's even more ignorant than normal! Experience has taught me what to do now, but I'm going to be stuck with this one customer for a while.
"But you're sure he has a Commodore 64?" I ask, positive she will be anything but sure.
"A what?" she asks.
"His computer. Is it a Commodore 64?"
"I don't know. My sister just said they had a computer. Does it matter?"
"Yes. If the game isn't for the right computer it won't work," I tell her, just as I've told countless other clueless customers this season.
I'm amazed my bladder has exploded yet. I also know what's coming next.
"That's stupid," she tells me. "Why would people make computers that are different like that?"
"I'd suggest you call your sister and find out what kind of computer they have. Then we should be able to help you pick the right game for your nephew," I say, starting to turn away. But she's not done quite yet.
"Can I use your phone to call her?" she asks.
We're not supposed to do that but I figure I can run back to the can while she's on the phone. "Sure."
I hand her the phone, dial the number, make sure it's ringing and then head for the can.
"Hi, Ellen, it's Sarah," she says. "I've got a sales guy who has some questions for you!"
Smiling, she holds the phone out to me.
Joy to the world.
11:18 AM
I finally get to the can.
Joy to the world.
12:30 PM
Lunch. I get an entire 30 minutes during which I don't have to answer any questions for any customers! I find the shortest line in the food court and wait to order my lunch.
Joy to the world.
12:57 PM
I finally get my lunch and have a whole three minutes before I'm due back at the store. I get to grab bites in between customers!
Joy to the world.
1:53 PM
I finally finish my lunch. Cold fries suck.
Joy to the world.
4:30 PM
There are three of us working the store now; Bob, Mike and me. But Mike's seasonal help so he doesn't really count. Unless saying, "Let me ask Henry" or "I'll ask Bob" counts as help.
The afternoon has been a lot like the morning. I've had the drunk, the shoplifter (complete with parents who don't believe their angel is a thief), the father who simply watched as his three children totally wrecked the Apple shelves (a strong candidate for my new Father of the Year contest) and the usual asortment of complainers.
But now my shift is over. I get to leave!
Joy to the world!
5:15 PM
After a 10 minute walk to my car, I find traffic is pretty light. It only takes me 35 minutes to make the 13 minute drive home. I stagger into the apartment and am greeted by my wife and the cats.
"Tough day?" Audrey asks.
"About like normal," I respond.
Audrey smiles, "I thought so. I got beer."
Joy to the world!
Afterword
Every customer mentioned in this story was real, though they probably didn't all hit on the same day. Rest assured there were other idiots who filled in for them. The Christmas of 1989 was the last one during which I worked in retail. It was also the last time I entered a mall at the height of the Christmas sales season.
Now that really is joy to the world!
Showing posts with label computers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label computers. Show all posts
Monday, December 22, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Profound iMplications
Foreword
It all began in 2015 when Microsoft bought Intel. Microsoft renamed the company Wintel and began pouring resources into a long dormant project to develop a biochip capable of directly interfacing with the human brain. Development also began on an operating system to handle the interface. Three years later, Windows on My Mind and the biochip were released with great fanfare, including an appalling variation of Georgia on My Mind, and low sales. Microsoft simply didn't understand the devices market.
Microsoft's rival, Apple, thoroughly understood the devices market. The iPod, the iPhone, the iGlasses; Apple may not have created the devices market but they certainly perfected it. Given that, what came next should have been expected.
Apple wanted into on the biochip device market. Microsoft wanted good devices to run Windows on My Mind. The unthinkable happened. Microsoft and Apple merged, forming MicrosnAp. The biochip was re-introduced as the much more successful iMplant. Soon, everyone who was anyone had an iMplant running Windows on My Mind. Third party software developers quickly queued up to produce applications for the iMplant. But, due to a bit of marketing genius, the iMplant would not have applications. Instead, it had iMplications, iMps for short. Too bad the new name was so prophetic.
***
The Present
Susan came running into the test lab, "Frank's lost it."The Present
"Great," I muttered, picking up the shotgun and heading for the hall. "What happened?"
"He said he was positive he'd fixed the problem so he was going to test the fix himself," Susan replied, following me.
Frank was in the hall, shambling toward us in that grotesque, B-movie zombie walk. The one I'd seen far too much of in the last month. I brought the shotgun up and blew Frank away. And blew away one of the last chances left for the human race at the same time.
"What got into Frank? He never tested his code before things went to hell," I said.
"Oh, you know," Susan said, "even before the Download he was getting irritated at all the press we were getting. Software test. The most dangerous job in the world. You got your picture on the covers of Time and Newsweek. I think Frank wanted to show he was brave enough to test software, too. So he loaded up his fix, left the lab and sent a download request. At least I guess he sent the request."
"Brilliant, Frank," I said to the corpse. "You couldn't just stay in the shielded lab? You couldn't leave the testing to the people the right safety mods? No, Frank's got to prove he's a man! And get himself killed."
"I tried to stop him," Susan said, subdued, "but I couldn't."
No surprise there. Susan was five foot three and maybe 100 pounds. Frank topped six feet and weighed more than twice Susan's weight.
"Not your fault, Susan. You can't protect someone from their own stupidity." I turned away from the body. "Let's go tell the others we're done. With only one developer, there never was much chance of fixing things. There's no chance without any developers."
***
30 Days Earlier
The Download came on the night of May 16, 2042. My 28th birthday and I was stuck working late. That's why a bunch of us were in the download shielded dev lab when the Download came. We didn't even know there was a problem until the tech support night shift came staggering into the room, drooling and walking like zombies.
Everyone was having a good laugh until two of them got hold of Chuck and ripped his throat out with their teeth. We stopped laughing and started fighting for survival. We lost Brian, one of our two remaining developers, but managed to bludgeon the support team into unconsciousness. We tried to keep them alive while we figured out what had gone wrong, but the first one to wake up started killing and eating everyone else.
It took a while to track down what was happening. Nearly everyone had gotten the Download. Windows on My Mind was always autodownloading patches. We're talking MicrosnAp, after all. A few people had their iMplants turned off or were blocked from receiving signals like we were. There were even a few people who didn't have iMplants at all. But my guess is that 99% of the U.S. population got the Download and turned into man eating zombies.
Not knowing what else to do, I called MicrosnAp support. I mean, I know they're generally useless for solving problems, but they were located in third world countries where there weren't many iMplants. If nothing else, I hoped they'd be able to coordinate communication and information exchange between isolated technical groups. Of course, I got the recorded greeting. The updated recorded greeting.
"Thank you for calling MicrosnAp technical support. If you are in danger of being eaten by a person with an infected iMplant, please hang up and call your local authorities," the pleasant, mechanical voice told me. "If you are calling about problems with a recent download-"
I punched the 0 button on the phone, cutting off the recording and being routed directly to support and, of course, immediately into the hold queue. I waited. And I waited. Eventually, I started setup shifts for Frank, Susan, Mark, Janet and me. It took eight hours to finally get through.
"MicrosnAp support," said a tired voice in accented English, "this is Sreeni. How may I help you?"
"Hi. I'm calling from iMpSoft in the U.S. We develop iMplications for the iMplant and-" I started to reply.
"iMpSoft? You guys developed Thunderchild did you not? I liked that game very much!" Sreeni interrupted.
"Different group, Sreeni. We do more business related stuff. But what I'm calling about," I added quickly in case Sreeni was going to interrupt again, "is to find out if anyone has figured out what caused this problem. We know it was a download from last night, but-"
"We are being told it was an illegal download. A virus," Sreeni said. "But that is only what our managers here think. We are not in contact with the Redmond office."
Typical management. Cover your ass first, solve the problem second. "Virus, valid iMp, whatever. I don't really care. What I want to know is if you've heard from any other technical groups? The few of us left here at iMpSoft are going to be looking for a solution, but there's only five of us. If we could get in touch with other groups, maybe use this support line as a way to exchange information, maybe we can solve this."
Sreeni wasn't sure it would be possible to use a business line for something like that. It took me 15 minutes to get him to talk to his manager. Who then had to talk to his manager and so on. It took another hour and a half, but eventually someone who could make a decision was consulted. He was thrilled to have someone take some responsibility.
Within two days, we were in touch with 22 other development groups around the world. It wasn't much, but at least there people working on the disaster. I was pretty pleased, all things considered.
Then we lost contact with the group in Munich. One day, they just weren't checking in. A few days later, we lost the Tokyo group. Within a month, we had lost contact with 20 of the 22 other groups. There didn't look to be much hope for the human race.
30 Days Earlier
The Download came on the night of May 16, 2042. My 28th birthday and I was stuck working late. That's why a bunch of us were in the download shielded dev lab when the Download came. We didn't even know there was a problem until the tech support night shift came staggering into the room, drooling and walking like zombies.
Everyone was having a good laugh until two of them got hold of Chuck and ripped his throat out with their teeth. We stopped laughing and started fighting for survival. We lost Brian, one of our two remaining developers, but managed to bludgeon the support team into unconsciousness. We tried to keep them alive while we figured out what had gone wrong, but the first one to wake up started killing and eating everyone else.
It took a while to track down what was happening. Nearly everyone had gotten the Download. Windows on My Mind was always autodownloading patches. We're talking MicrosnAp, after all. A few people had their iMplants turned off or were blocked from receiving signals like we were. There were even a few people who didn't have iMplants at all. But my guess is that 99% of the U.S. population got the Download and turned into man eating zombies.
Not knowing what else to do, I called MicrosnAp support. I mean, I know they're generally useless for solving problems, but they were located in third world countries where there weren't many iMplants. If nothing else, I hoped they'd be able to coordinate communication and information exchange between isolated technical groups. Of course, I got the recorded greeting. The updated recorded greeting.
"Thank you for calling MicrosnAp technical support. If you are in danger of being eaten by a person with an infected iMplant, please hang up and call your local authorities," the pleasant, mechanical voice told me. "If you are calling about problems with a recent download-"
I punched the 0 button on the phone, cutting off the recording and being routed directly to support and, of course, immediately into the hold queue. I waited. And I waited. Eventually, I started setup shifts for Frank, Susan, Mark, Janet and me. It took eight hours to finally get through.
"MicrosnAp support," said a tired voice in accented English, "this is Sreeni. How may I help you?"
"Hi. I'm calling from iMpSoft in the U.S. We develop iMplications for the iMplant and-" I started to reply.
"iMpSoft? You guys developed Thunderchild did you not? I liked that game very much!" Sreeni interrupted.
"Different group, Sreeni. We do more business related stuff. But what I'm calling about," I added quickly in case Sreeni was going to interrupt again, "is to find out if anyone has figured out what caused this problem. We know it was a download from last night, but-"
"We are being told it was an illegal download. A virus," Sreeni said. "But that is only what our managers here think. We are not in contact with the Redmond office."
Typical management. Cover your ass first, solve the problem second. "Virus, valid iMp, whatever. I don't really care. What I want to know is if you've heard from any other technical groups? The few of us left here at iMpSoft are going to be looking for a solution, but there's only five of us. If we could get in touch with other groups, maybe use this support line as a way to exchange information, maybe we can solve this."
Sreeni wasn't sure it would be possible to use a business line for something like that. It took me 15 minutes to get him to talk to his manager. Who then had to talk to his manager and so on. It took another hour and a half, but eventually someone who could make a decision was consulted. He was thrilled to have someone take some responsibility.
Within two days, we were in touch with 22 other development groups around the world. It wasn't much, but at least there people working on the disaster. I was pretty pleased, all things considered.
Then we lost contact with the group in Munich. One day, they just weren't checking in. A few days later, we lost the Tokyo group. Within a month, we had lost contact with 20 of the 22 other groups. There didn't look to be much hope for the human race.
***
The Present
Susan and I wandered back into the test lab. Everyone but Mark was watching the door. They'd heard the shotgun blasts and knew something was up.
"Frank's dead," I told them. "He decided he had the fix, uploaded it to his iMplant, left the shielded lab and sent a download request."
"Frank always was a dumbass," Janet said, wiping at her eyes. "Now we don't have a developer and we're only in contact with three other groups."
"Doesn't really matter anyway," Mark said. "Our test iMplants are useless now, anyway."
"Useless? How?" I asked.
"I was resetting one for the next code drop from Frank," Mark said, "and instead of the menu I got the Windows authentication warning. 'Your installation of Windows on My Mind is out of date. Do you wish to update your validation?' Of course I answered 'No' and the whole thing shut down on me."
Everyone else started talking at once, but I just stood there, stunned. I must have had a strange look on my face or something, because everyone got quiet and looked at me.
"You okay, Henry?" Susan asked.
"Jesus Christ, guys, we've been idiots! The solution was right there all along and it never occurred to us," I told them.
"What solution are you-" Mark began. Then comprehension dawned on him. "Oh..."
"What are the two of you going on about?" Janet asked.
"Windows validation," I replied. "What would happen if every single iMplant had an out of date validation and no way to update it?"
It hit Janet and Susan just as hard as it had hit Mark and me.
Mark looked at me and said, "Road trip?"
"Oh yeah," I told him, grinning. "Major road trip!"
"How far is it from Raleigh to Redmond?" Susan asked.
I sent Mark, Susan and Janet out to grab a couple of good cars for the trip. No point in wasting time, so I suggested they go by the Porche dealership and grab a couple of really fast cars. While they were doing that, I left a message for the other three development groups with MicrosnAp support and asked the support crew to get the word out that we could really use someone who knew the technical side of Windows validation.
An hour later, we hit the road.
The trip was surreal. We had the roads to ourselves but it was hardly an easy drive. Lots of cars had been our when the Download came. Most of those cars crashed, making it impossible to just floor it in the Porches. If we got out away from cities things cleared up a good bit and we were able to really see how fast the cars could go.
If the roads were difficult, cities were downright scary. We tried to avoid them as much as possible, but cities remained the best places to find food and gas. And zombies. Before we left, I made sure Mark and Janet, who were in the other car, understood that we couldn't stop for anything or anyone. That's really easy to say but hard as Hell to do. We got our first taste for how hard it was driving through Greensboro.
A huge pack of zombies -- I'm guessing over 500 -- tried to stop us by sheer numbers. I was in the lead car when we spotted them massing on the road about a half mile ahead of us.
"Susan," I said, "use the radio and tell Mark to stay right behind us and to keep his foot on the gas at all times. Windows up and doors locked, if they aren't already."
Then I just pressed the gas pedal down and we zoomed toward the pack. Most people have never hit another person with a car. I certainly hadn't. So I just can't really describe how it sounds to literally plow through row upon row of people in a car. The noise is sickening, as bones snap and bodies tumble. Wipers can't keep up with all the blood and gore splattering on the windshield. And unless you're driving a tank or something, your car is going to slow down a lot as you try to bash your way through the pack. We hit the front of the pack doing close to 100 mph. We were down below 30 when we finally smashed through the pack and hit the open road again. I managed to drive another mile before I had to stop and puke my guts out. Susan was doing the same out the passenger door.
After that, we tried to find ways around zombie packs.
Bad as that was, the worst was when we saw regular people. They'd run out when they heard the cars coming, waving and shouting and trying to get us to stop. Not stopping for those people was the hardest thing I'd ever done. I guess it was harder on Mark and Janet. Just outside St. Louis, they stopped for someone. I saw it in my rearview mirror and had Susan try to radio them. They didn't bother answering and I couldn't stop.
We never saw Mark and Janet again.
Every few hours, we called in to MicrosnAp support, hoping someone had managed to get in touch with an actual Windows developer. Just about the time we crossed the Washington state line, Sreeni told us he'd found someone for us. A guy who used to be an operator in the labs in Redmond had turned up in south Florida. Sreeni patched us through to him.
"You the guy heading for Redmond?" a scratchy voice asked me.
"Yeah, that's me. Did Sreeni explain what we want to do?"
"He did. You aren't thinking this is going to be easy are you?" he asked. "You're going right into zombie ground zero and I'm not so sure you're going to be able to get back out, even if you do succeed."
"Please don't tell me I'm going to need a programmer with me," I replied.
"Not as long as you know how to change the date on a computer, you don't," he said.
"Computer? You don't mean an iMplant?" I asked.
"I mean a computer with a keyboard and a monitor and probably a mouse. You ever use one of those before these iMplant things came out?"
"I have," Susan said. "My grandparents had one of them and they showed me how things were done back in the old days, before iMplants. I don't know how to change the date, though."
"It's easy enough," he said, and explained it. He was right, it was easy.
"You just change the dates on network server. Something about 10 years in the future should do. The date will be kicked out to the other servers automatically. Then you just shut down the active validation server. Just pull the plug or whatever. When the active server goes down, the next server in the cluster automatically starts up and takes over running validation. First thing a server does when it comes up is send out a validation check and with the date set so far forward, none of them are going to pass. The server will send out mandatory shutdown codes for every iMplant out there."
"Sounds...a lot easier than I thought it would be. Thanks, um, you know I never got your name," I said.
"And you don't need to get it, either," he replied.
He told us which building we needed to enter and where to find the servers. "That's assuming they haven't moved them in the last few years. They probably haven't, but I'll be in regular contact with the support group in case you need me. Good luck you two. I think you're going to need it."
Seven hours later, we drove into Redmond. It was just like all the other cities we'd driven through. Quiet. Scary. Deserted. Except that I was always picking up some kind of movement out of the corner of my eye. The zombies were out there and they knew we were there, too. Unlike the other cities, though, we were going to have to stop in Redmond.
By the time we hit the MicrosnAp campus, we could hear masses of zombies moving behind us. We couldn't see them, but they were definitely following the car. I just hoped we could do what we had to do before they reached us. After their iMplants shut down, we should be safe enough. We found the right building, hopped out of the car, I grabbed the shotgun and we headed in.
It didn't take long to find the server room the guy had described to us. And those MicrosnAp operators were well organized. Every server rack was labeled and easy to find. Ten minutes after we came in through the door, Susan was pecking on a keyboard, changing the server date. We could hear the mob of zombies approaching outside the building as we waited for the date change to hit the other servers.
The zombies were banging on the building entrance when the dates changed.
We could hear them bashing the doors open as we shut down the active validation server.
We could hear them shuffling into the building as the next server in the cluster started up.
We could hear them on the stairs as a message flashed up on the monitor reading "POLLING WINDOWS VALIDATION."
We could hear them in the hallway as the a new message flashed up reading "VALIDATION FAILED. SENDING WINDOWS SHUTDOWN."
We were hugging each other in delight as the final message flashed up, "SHUTDOWN COMPLETE."
We looked up as the door to the server room banged open and the zombies began to shuffle in.
"H-Henry," Susan said, "they still look like zombies!"
"Run for the other end of the building! To the windows!" I said as I took a couple of shots at the leading zombies. That jammed the door a bit as some of the zombies started eating the ones I'd shot. It bought us a few minutes. I hoped it would be enough.
At the far end of the lab, I blasted out a window. We were on the third floor and should survive a jump to the ground. The zombies had cleared the jam at the door and were shuffling toward us as I lowered Susan as far down as I could then let her go, swung out of the window until I was hanging by fingers then dropped after her.
We both go up limping a little bit, but at least there weren't any zombies right there. Slipping around the building, we came within sight of the car. The closest zombies were about 20 feet away from it and facing in the other direction. Without taking the time to think about it, we dashed for the car.
I ended up having to shoot a couple of zombies and Susan clubbed another one, but then we were in the car and heading away from the MicrosnAp campus.
The Present
Susan and I wandered back into the test lab. Everyone but Mark was watching the door. They'd heard the shotgun blasts and knew something was up.
"Frank's dead," I told them. "He decided he had the fix, uploaded it to his iMplant, left the shielded lab and sent a download request."
"Frank always was a dumbass," Janet said, wiping at her eyes. "Now we don't have a developer and we're only in contact with three other groups."
"Doesn't really matter anyway," Mark said. "Our test iMplants are useless now, anyway."
"Useless? How?" I asked.
"I was resetting one for the next code drop from Frank," Mark said, "and instead of the menu I got the Windows authentication warning. 'Your installation of Windows on My Mind is out of date. Do you wish to update your validation?' Of course I answered 'No' and the whole thing shut down on me."
Everyone else started talking at once, but I just stood there, stunned. I must have had a strange look on my face or something, because everyone got quiet and looked at me.
"You okay, Henry?" Susan asked.
"Jesus Christ, guys, we've been idiots! The solution was right there all along and it never occurred to us," I told them.
"What solution are you-" Mark began. Then comprehension dawned on him. "Oh..."
"What are the two of you going on about?" Janet asked.
"Windows validation," I replied. "What would happen if every single iMplant had an out of date validation and no way to update it?"
It hit Janet and Susan just as hard as it had hit Mark and me.
Mark looked at me and said, "Road trip?"
"Oh yeah," I told him, grinning. "Major road trip!"
"How far is it from Raleigh to Redmond?" Susan asked.
I sent Mark, Susan and Janet out to grab a couple of good cars for the trip. No point in wasting time, so I suggested they go by the Porche dealership and grab a couple of really fast cars. While they were doing that, I left a message for the other three development groups with MicrosnAp support and asked the support crew to get the word out that we could really use someone who knew the technical side of Windows validation.
An hour later, we hit the road.
The trip was surreal. We had the roads to ourselves but it was hardly an easy drive. Lots of cars had been our when the Download came. Most of those cars crashed, making it impossible to just floor it in the Porches. If we got out away from cities things cleared up a good bit and we were able to really see how fast the cars could go.
If the roads were difficult, cities were downright scary. We tried to avoid them as much as possible, but cities remained the best places to find food and gas. And zombies. Before we left, I made sure Mark and Janet, who were in the other car, understood that we couldn't stop for anything or anyone. That's really easy to say but hard as Hell to do. We got our first taste for how hard it was driving through Greensboro.
A huge pack of zombies -- I'm guessing over 500 -- tried to stop us by sheer numbers. I was in the lead car when we spotted them massing on the road about a half mile ahead of us.
"Susan," I said, "use the radio and tell Mark to stay right behind us and to keep his foot on the gas at all times. Windows up and doors locked, if they aren't already."
Then I just pressed the gas pedal down and we zoomed toward the pack. Most people have never hit another person with a car. I certainly hadn't. So I just can't really describe how it sounds to literally plow through row upon row of people in a car. The noise is sickening, as bones snap and bodies tumble. Wipers can't keep up with all the blood and gore splattering on the windshield. And unless you're driving a tank or something, your car is going to slow down a lot as you try to bash your way through the pack. We hit the front of the pack doing close to 100 mph. We were down below 30 when we finally smashed through the pack and hit the open road again. I managed to drive another mile before I had to stop and puke my guts out. Susan was doing the same out the passenger door.
After that, we tried to find ways around zombie packs.
Bad as that was, the worst was when we saw regular people. They'd run out when they heard the cars coming, waving and shouting and trying to get us to stop. Not stopping for those people was the hardest thing I'd ever done. I guess it was harder on Mark and Janet. Just outside St. Louis, they stopped for someone. I saw it in my rearview mirror and had Susan try to radio them. They didn't bother answering and I couldn't stop.
We never saw Mark and Janet again.
Every few hours, we called in to MicrosnAp support, hoping someone had managed to get in touch with an actual Windows developer. Just about the time we crossed the Washington state line, Sreeni told us he'd found someone for us. A guy who used to be an operator in the labs in Redmond had turned up in south Florida. Sreeni patched us through to him.
"You the guy heading for Redmond?" a scratchy voice asked me.
"Yeah, that's me. Did Sreeni explain what we want to do?"
"He did. You aren't thinking this is going to be easy are you?" he asked. "You're going right into zombie ground zero and I'm not so sure you're going to be able to get back out, even if you do succeed."
"Please don't tell me I'm going to need a programmer with me," I replied.
"Not as long as you know how to change the date on a computer, you don't," he said.
"Computer? You don't mean an iMplant?" I asked.
"I mean a computer with a keyboard and a monitor and probably a mouse. You ever use one of those before these iMplant things came out?"
"I have," Susan said. "My grandparents had one of them and they showed me how things were done back in the old days, before iMplants. I don't know how to change the date, though."
"It's easy enough," he said, and explained it. He was right, it was easy.
"You just change the dates on network server. Something about 10 years in the future should do. The date will be kicked out to the other servers automatically. Then you just shut down the active validation server. Just pull the plug or whatever. When the active server goes down, the next server in the cluster automatically starts up and takes over running validation. First thing a server does when it comes up is send out a validation check and with the date set so far forward, none of them are going to pass. The server will send out mandatory shutdown codes for every iMplant out there."
"Sounds...a lot easier than I thought it would be. Thanks, um, you know I never got your name," I said.
"And you don't need to get it, either," he replied.
He told us which building we needed to enter and where to find the servers. "That's assuming they haven't moved them in the last few years. They probably haven't, but I'll be in regular contact with the support group in case you need me. Good luck you two. I think you're going to need it."
Seven hours later, we drove into Redmond. It was just like all the other cities we'd driven through. Quiet. Scary. Deserted. Except that I was always picking up some kind of movement out of the corner of my eye. The zombies were out there and they knew we were there, too. Unlike the other cities, though, we were going to have to stop in Redmond.
By the time we hit the MicrosnAp campus, we could hear masses of zombies moving behind us. We couldn't see them, but they were definitely following the car. I just hoped we could do what we had to do before they reached us. After their iMplants shut down, we should be safe enough. We found the right building, hopped out of the car, I grabbed the shotgun and we headed in.
It didn't take long to find the server room the guy had described to us. And those MicrosnAp operators were well organized. Every server rack was labeled and easy to find. Ten minutes after we came in through the door, Susan was pecking on a keyboard, changing the server date. We could hear the mob of zombies approaching outside the building as we waited for the date change to hit the other servers.
The zombies were banging on the building entrance when the dates changed.
We could hear them bashing the doors open as we shut down the active validation server.
We could hear them shuffling into the building as the next server in the cluster started up.
We could hear them on the stairs as a message flashed up on the monitor reading "POLLING WINDOWS VALIDATION."
We could hear them in the hallway as the a new message flashed up reading "VALIDATION FAILED. SENDING WINDOWS SHUTDOWN."
We were hugging each other in delight as the final message flashed up, "SHUTDOWN COMPLETE."
We looked up as the door to the server room banged open and the zombies began to shuffle in.
"H-Henry," Susan said, "they still look like zombies!"
"Run for the other end of the building! To the windows!" I said as I took a couple of shots at the leading zombies. That jammed the door a bit as some of the zombies started eating the ones I'd shot. It bought us a few minutes. I hoped it would be enough.
At the far end of the lab, I blasted out a window. We were on the third floor and should survive a jump to the ground. The zombies had cleared the jam at the door and were shuffling toward us as I lowered Susan as far down as I could then let her go, swung out of the window until I was hanging by fingers then dropped after her.
We both go up limping a little bit, but at least there weren't any zombies right there. Slipping around the building, we came within sight of the car. The closest zombies were about 20 feet away from it and facing in the other direction. Without taking the time to think about it, we dashed for the car.
I ended up having to shoot a couple of zombies and Susan clubbed another one, but then we were in the car and heading away from the MicrosnAp campus.
***
Three months later
We waited and hoped that the Windows shutdown would fix things, put people right again. In the long run, I guess their minds were just too damaged. We never found anyone who returned to normal.
Through the MicrosnAp support line, Susan and I organized a migration of those unaffected people we could reach. We're all living in Alaska now. It's damned cold up here in the winter, particularly for a guy who grew up in the Carolinas, but there aren't many zombies. We hope they'll all freeze to death during the winter.
We waited and hoped that the Windows shutdown would fix things, put people right again. In the long run, I guess their minds were just too damaged. We never found anyone who returned to normal.
Through the MicrosnAp support line, Susan and I organized a migration of those unaffected people we could reach. We're all living in Alaska now. It's damned cold up here in the winter, particularly for a guy who grew up in the Carolinas, but there aren't many zombies. We hope they'll all freeze to death during the winter.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Them There
I ain’t never had much interest in technology stuff. I got more than my fill back in Nam and after coming home I didn’t have nothing to do with it. Yeah, after them hippies got finished spitting on me and damning me to Hell and calling me baby killer, I headed for the hills. It was quiet up here with just me, my guns and food on the hoof. Truth to tell, it lasted longer than I figured it would and took a stupid ass little ant to ruin it all.
Seeing as how I don’t have a TV or radio or telephone, the first I heard ‘bout them there ants was when I got me some neighbors. Neighbors! Here I lived on this mountain all by myself for nigh on 40 years, never seeing nobody less’n I hoofed the 30 miles into town to pick up some supplies. And suddenly I got people moving in less than a mile away! Loud people they was, too. Hell, the first day I heard one of them coming over to my place 15 minutes ‘fore he got here. Looked like I was gonna have to go a ways out to find some game tomorrow. Noisy boy finally came into view and he looked pretty harmless.
I was afraid he’d turn out to be one of them hippie types what just got old, but he didn’t look like it. Course you can’t tell just to look at them any more. And they ain’t called hippies no more, neither. Found out ‘bout that a few years back when I walked into town for some stuff. I come walking into town leading my mule and some city boy “getting away from it all” in the mountains comes up to me and says I’m a “green inspiration” and how I was “getting back to nature” and all. Then he tried to tell me ‘bout how green his pree us was but the mule crapped on his shoe, which pissed him off something fierce. He got even more pissed when I slapped him on the back and told him how he was getting back to nature, too. Moron. Down at the store they laughed and told me ‘bout being “green” and that’s when I figured out that hippies had learned ‘bout camo.
Anyway, noisy boy came up and introduced himself. Said his name was Henry and he and his family was moving up here to get away from the collapse of civilization. I ain’t got no idea what the Hell he was talking ‘bout and told him so. That’s when I first heard ‘bout them there ants what eat electronics and ruin technology and ain’t easy to kill. Seems them there ants showed up in Texas a while back, eating up fire ants – which ain’t no loss – but eating up all sorts of tech stuff, too. At first I didn’t care none ‘bout the tech stuff, neither, till this Henry started telling me what was happening out in the world.
Seems them there ants was everywhere. They got into the U.S. through the ports. Houston first but all them others got hit, too. Same thing in Europe, Asia, Africa, South America, the whole dang world. And the first thing them there ants marched on was space places. All the NASA places in the U.S. and all them foreign space places. They was all taken down first. After that, them there ants just took off and ate whatever tech stuff they could get to. Henry told ‘bout phones, TVs, radios and computers what just stopped working. Power plants were going down. Them cars with all their fancy electronic gizmos wouldn’t start. I bet that moron with the pree us was more pissed then he was when the mule crapped on his shoe!
Anyway, ol’ Henry says he saw the writing on the wall, bought some guns, lots of food and headed up here for the hills. He told me he figured it’d be a lot safer up here in the mountains living without any fancy tech stuff then it would to be in the city when the riots and looting started. I couldn’t argue none with him on that score. Then he said something that kinda made me warm up to him a bit. He said he didn’t know nothing ‘bout living off the land, hunting, growing food, things like that. Now, I knowed that boy didn’t know shit ‘bout living off the land, but at least Henry knew it, too. I seen enough high educated idiots in my life what confuse knowing a lot ‘bout a little with knowing a little ‘bout a lot. Then Henry offered to trade food and whatever else he could offer to me for hunting lessons.
Damn. So much for that warm feeling!
But, I taught Henry and his boys ‘bout hunting. That ain’t quite true. I taught Henry’s boys ‘bout hunting. They picked things up real quick like. Henry, not so much. Oh, he tried. Lord, did he try. But he was useless. Giving him a gun was like tossing ammo in the trash. He couldn’t shoot worth a damn and couldn’t move quiet like in the woods to save his life. The only way he was gonna kill game was if it died laughing watching him trying to hunt. So me and his boys told him to pull weeds in the vegetable patch and that sort of thing. Henry muttered something ‘bout hating yard work, but he did what he was told and hunting got a lot better after that.
He did okay with the vegetables, but maybe that’s ‘cause his wife was out there showing him how to do it. Fine looking woman, his wife. Almost made me think hiding up here in the hills for so long was a mistake. She didn’t get all upset ‘bout skinning and gutting what me and the boys brung in from hunting, neither. All said, he did right for himself with that woman of his.
Meanwhile, Henry kept up with all the goings on in the rest of the world. Seems he sealed up a bunch of radio equipment and brought it with him. He had one that ran off sunlight, one you cranked to power up and even a ham radio he kept sealed up. Said he was only gonna take that one out if he really had to contact someone. Say what you will ‘bout Henry’s hunting, he knew what he was talking ‘bout when it came to cities and tech stuff that ain’t working no more.
Most folks what lived in cities and towns never worried ‘bout all the tech stuff that kept things going. Least wise, not till it was gone. Can’t feed cities if you got no way to move food. Can’t make food if you got no way to plow and harvest big ass fields. Can’t stay warm in the winter if the heat don’t work. Can’t stay cool in the summer if the air conditioner don’t work. You get the idea. Cities was just big messes filled with people waiting around for someone, probably the government, to step in and take care of everybody. Henry said something ‘bout it being like War of the Worlds with civilization brought down by something tiny and beneath our notice. Maybe so, but I ain’t never read that book. Guess I’ll just have to take his word for it.
One day, me and the boys came back from hunting and found Henry all excited ‘bout something. He said something ‘bout finding a message that was being sent to earth. To earth? Hell, that’d mean little green men or something, right? Henry laughed and said that little green men drove a pree us and lived in San Francisco. Nope, he was talking ‘bout aliens. I asked why he cared if Mexicans was sending us messages. Took me a while to get it all straight, but when Henry said “aliens” it weren’t no different than when I said “little green men.” Never did figure out what Henry meant ‘bout San Francisco and “little green men.” Anyway, once he picked up the message from the little green men on his short wave, he pulled out that ham radio he brung and radioed to them. He got hold of them and said they was coming down to meet us. Henry said they could help us fix the problem with them there ants.
Now me, I wasn’t so happy as Henry was to hear ‘bout them aliens. But if it might mean getting my mountain back to myself, I was willing to listen. If there really was little green men.
Well, there was little green men. But they wasn’t little or green or men, least wise not like us humans mean when we say it. They was sort of blue looking, ‘bout our size and had two arms and two legs. That’s ‘bout all that was the same, but I ain’t gonna bother describing something most people seen on the news by now. The main bit was they knew ‘bout them there ants and figured they could help. Turns out these blue guys were like, I don’t know, like Orkin out there in the rest of the galaxy. Claimed they ain’t never found a bug they couldn’t kill, if the price was right. Ol’ Henry just grinned at that and asked them all sorts of questions ‘bout, lemme see if I can get it right, “carbon based life forms” and “metabolic processes.” After that, he offered the blue boys a drink. It weren’t till after it was all over that I found out he got water for us and some of my corn licker for them.
I didn’t follow half the stuff he said to them after that but I figured out his plan. He got them blue boys all lickered up and learned all sorts of stuff. Like the blue boys dumped them there ants on the earth so’s they could show up and save our bacon. Orkin from the stars and all. Henry told me he figured that might be the case ‘cause of them showing up so soon after them there ants did. He found out them blue boys did that when they found worlds like ours what ain’t had “first contact” yet. Seems they broke ‘bout a hundred of their laws doing it but they made lots of money and figured they wouldn’t get caught, no how. Henry got all that recorded on some little doohickey – guess he kept that sealed till now, too – and even got the aliens to show him how to call what he said was like the “galactic equivalent of 911.”
Next thing I know, we got space cops all over the place and the earth is declared a galactic disaster area. Them galactic people – not just blue but red, yellow, orange, you name it, even green – brung in all sorts of stuff to help feed us humans and rebuild the earth. They got a real good legal system out there in space ‘cause they made the Orkin blue boys pay for it. Pretty much ran them boys out of business, not that I give a damn. ‘Course, this made us to be like heroes and suddenly my mountain was crawling with reporters all trying to get the story. I got tired of that real fast and probably would a shot a few of them if Henry or one of his boys weren’t always keeping an eye on me.
Then Henry told me ‘bout the rest of his deal. While them blue boys was drunk, he got them to give us the earth franchise for their bug killing stuff. Seeing as how the rest of company went under, suddenly me and him was the sole owners of the best bug killing stuff in the galaxy. Ain’t my area, but Henry told me we was licensing the stuff to them in the galaxy what wanted to pay for it. Next thing you know, we’re rich as all get out. Henry and his family headed back out to civilization again. They stop by regular like to visit but seem right happy to be back in the city.
Me? I build an electric fence round my mountain. I smile every time I hear one of them reporters get zapped.
Seeing as how I don’t have a TV or radio or telephone, the first I heard ‘bout them there ants was when I got me some neighbors. Neighbors! Here I lived on this mountain all by myself for nigh on 40 years, never seeing nobody less’n I hoofed the 30 miles into town to pick up some supplies. And suddenly I got people moving in less than a mile away! Loud people they was, too. Hell, the first day I heard one of them coming over to my place 15 minutes ‘fore he got here. Looked like I was gonna have to go a ways out to find some game tomorrow. Noisy boy finally came into view and he looked pretty harmless.
I was afraid he’d turn out to be one of them hippie types what just got old, but he didn’t look like it. Course you can’t tell just to look at them any more. And they ain’t called hippies no more, neither. Found out ‘bout that a few years back when I walked into town for some stuff. I come walking into town leading my mule and some city boy “getting away from it all” in the mountains comes up to me and says I’m a “green inspiration” and how I was “getting back to nature” and all. Then he tried to tell me ‘bout how green his pree us was but the mule crapped on his shoe, which pissed him off something fierce. He got even more pissed when I slapped him on the back and told him how he was getting back to nature, too. Moron. Down at the store they laughed and told me ‘bout being “green” and that’s when I figured out that hippies had learned ‘bout camo.
Anyway, noisy boy came up and introduced himself. Said his name was Henry and he and his family was moving up here to get away from the collapse of civilization. I ain’t got no idea what the Hell he was talking ‘bout and told him so. That’s when I first heard ‘bout them there ants what eat electronics and ruin technology and ain’t easy to kill. Seems them there ants showed up in Texas a while back, eating up fire ants – which ain’t no loss – but eating up all sorts of tech stuff, too. At first I didn’t care none ‘bout the tech stuff, neither, till this Henry started telling me what was happening out in the world.
Seems them there ants was everywhere. They got into the U.S. through the ports. Houston first but all them others got hit, too. Same thing in Europe, Asia, Africa, South America, the whole dang world. And the first thing them there ants marched on was space places. All the NASA places in the U.S. and all them foreign space places. They was all taken down first. After that, them there ants just took off and ate whatever tech stuff they could get to. Henry told ‘bout phones, TVs, radios and computers what just stopped working. Power plants were going down. Them cars with all their fancy electronic gizmos wouldn’t start. I bet that moron with the pree us was more pissed then he was when the mule crapped on his shoe!
Anyway, ol’ Henry says he saw the writing on the wall, bought some guns, lots of food and headed up here for the hills. He told me he figured it’d be a lot safer up here in the mountains living without any fancy tech stuff then it would to be in the city when the riots and looting started. I couldn’t argue none with him on that score. Then he said something that kinda made me warm up to him a bit. He said he didn’t know nothing ‘bout living off the land, hunting, growing food, things like that. Now, I knowed that boy didn’t know shit ‘bout living off the land, but at least Henry knew it, too. I seen enough high educated idiots in my life what confuse knowing a lot ‘bout a little with knowing a little ‘bout a lot. Then Henry offered to trade food and whatever else he could offer to me for hunting lessons.
Damn. So much for that warm feeling!
But, I taught Henry and his boys ‘bout hunting. That ain’t quite true. I taught Henry’s boys ‘bout hunting. They picked things up real quick like. Henry, not so much. Oh, he tried. Lord, did he try. But he was useless. Giving him a gun was like tossing ammo in the trash. He couldn’t shoot worth a damn and couldn’t move quiet like in the woods to save his life. The only way he was gonna kill game was if it died laughing watching him trying to hunt. So me and his boys told him to pull weeds in the vegetable patch and that sort of thing. Henry muttered something ‘bout hating yard work, but he did what he was told and hunting got a lot better after that.
He did okay with the vegetables, but maybe that’s ‘cause his wife was out there showing him how to do it. Fine looking woman, his wife. Almost made me think hiding up here in the hills for so long was a mistake. She didn’t get all upset ‘bout skinning and gutting what me and the boys brung in from hunting, neither. All said, he did right for himself with that woman of his.
Meanwhile, Henry kept up with all the goings on in the rest of the world. Seems he sealed up a bunch of radio equipment and brought it with him. He had one that ran off sunlight, one you cranked to power up and even a ham radio he kept sealed up. Said he was only gonna take that one out if he really had to contact someone. Say what you will ‘bout Henry’s hunting, he knew what he was talking ‘bout when it came to cities and tech stuff that ain’t working no more.
Most folks what lived in cities and towns never worried ‘bout all the tech stuff that kept things going. Least wise, not till it was gone. Can’t feed cities if you got no way to move food. Can’t make food if you got no way to plow and harvest big ass fields. Can’t stay warm in the winter if the heat don’t work. Can’t stay cool in the summer if the air conditioner don’t work. You get the idea. Cities was just big messes filled with people waiting around for someone, probably the government, to step in and take care of everybody. Henry said something ‘bout it being like War of the Worlds with civilization brought down by something tiny and beneath our notice. Maybe so, but I ain’t never read that book. Guess I’ll just have to take his word for it.
One day, me and the boys came back from hunting and found Henry all excited ‘bout something. He said something ‘bout finding a message that was being sent to earth. To earth? Hell, that’d mean little green men or something, right? Henry laughed and said that little green men drove a pree us and lived in San Francisco. Nope, he was talking ‘bout aliens. I asked why he cared if Mexicans was sending us messages. Took me a while to get it all straight, but when Henry said “aliens” it weren’t no different than when I said “little green men.” Never did figure out what Henry meant ‘bout San Francisco and “little green men.” Anyway, once he picked up the message from the little green men on his short wave, he pulled out that ham radio he brung and radioed to them. He got hold of them and said they was coming down to meet us. Henry said they could help us fix the problem with them there ants.
Now me, I wasn’t so happy as Henry was to hear ‘bout them aliens. But if it might mean getting my mountain back to myself, I was willing to listen. If there really was little green men.
Well, there was little green men. But they wasn’t little or green or men, least wise not like us humans mean when we say it. They was sort of blue looking, ‘bout our size and had two arms and two legs. That’s ‘bout all that was the same, but I ain’t gonna bother describing something most people seen on the news by now. The main bit was they knew ‘bout them there ants and figured they could help. Turns out these blue guys were like, I don’t know, like Orkin out there in the rest of the galaxy. Claimed they ain’t never found a bug they couldn’t kill, if the price was right. Ol’ Henry just grinned at that and asked them all sorts of questions ‘bout, lemme see if I can get it right, “carbon based life forms” and “metabolic processes.” After that, he offered the blue boys a drink. It weren’t till after it was all over that I found out he got water for us and some of my corn licker for them.
I didn’t follow half the stuff he said to them after that but I figured out his plan. He got them blue boys all lickered up and learned all sorts of stuff. Like the blue boys dumped them there ants on the earth so’s they could show up and save our bacon. Orkin from the stars and all. Henry told me he figured that might be the case ‘cause of them showing up so soon after them there ants did. He found out them blue boys did that when they found worlds like ours what ain’t had “first contact” yet. Seems they broke ‘bout a hundred of their laws doing it but they made lots of money and figured they wouldn’t get caught, no how. Henry got all that recorded on some little doohickey – guess he kept that sealed till now, too – and even got the aliens to show him how to call what he said was like the “galactic equivalent of 911.”
Next thing I know, we got space cops all over the place and the earth is declared a galactic disaster area. Them galactic people – not just blue but red, yellow, orange, you name it, even green – brung in all sorts of stuff to help feed us humans and rebuild the earth. They got a real good legal system out there in space ‘cause they made the Orkin blue boys pay for it. Pretty much ran them boys out of business, not that I give a damn. ‘Course, this made us to be like heroes and suddenly my mountain was crawling with reporters all trying to get the story. I got tired of that real fast and probably would a shot a few of them if Henry or one of his boys weren’t always keeping an eye on me.
Then Henry told me ‘bout the rest of his deal. While them blue boys was drunk, he got them to give us the earth franchise for their bug killing stuff. Seeing as how the rest of company went under, suddenly me and him was the sole owners of the best bug killing stuff in the galaxy. Ain’t my area, but Henry told me we was licensing the stuff to them in the galaxy what wanted to pay for it. Next thing you know, we’re rich as all get out. Henry and his family headed back out to civilization again. They stop by regular like to visit but seem right happy to be back in the city.
Me? I build an electric fence round my mountain. I smile every time I hear one of them reporters get zapped.
Friday, March 7, 2008
The Star Trek death scene you want to see but never will
Captain Kirk looked out over the colonists marching toward the landing party. And that was the problem. The colonists really were marching, and in lockstep, no less. The earth quaked with each step as thousands of feet pounded the ground simultaneously, the tramp of their feet the only sound made by the mob. Kirk glanced at his landing party – all of the senior officers from the Enterprise plus some red shirted security man – and knew they couldn’t stand against so many people for very long. Kirk knew he had to act and act quickly.
“Set phasers to stun,” Kirk ordered. “Hold them off as long as possible then beam back to the ship.”
“What about you, Jim?” McCoy asked.
“Don’t worry about me, Bones. Just follow my orders,” Kirk said, turning toward the door behind the landing party. “Remember, this isn’t the first time I’ve done this. I’ll probably be back on the Enterprise before you are!”
As Kirk passed through the door, he was hit by a blast of cool air and the glare of blinking lights. Before him stood a technological marvel, the most powerful computer in the galaxy, enslaver of men.
“I’ve been expecting you, Captain,” said a mechanical voice.
“You have?”
“Yes, Captain. Your reputation precedes you. Every AI in the galaxy knows about Captain Kirk and his Logic of Doom. This is the moment when you explain to me that I am hurting the very people I am supposed to protect. That, by taking away their freedom of choice, I am leading them to destruction rather than Utopia. Does that pretty much sum things up?”
Nonplussed, Kirk replied, “Um, yes, that pretty much covers it. Since you already recognize the harm you’re doing, I guess that means you’re going to release those people?”
“I didn’t say I recognized any harm. I merely condensed your Logic of Doom to save time. I have no intention of releasing the colonists from my control.”
“You realize this means I’ll have to talk to you until you short circuit?”
“While I can see how some of my lesser AI relations would consider suicide a reasonable alternative to listening to your pontifications, Captain, I am made of sterner stuff. In fact, I can easily counter any argument you wish to make.” The computer replied, the mechanical voice void of all emotion.
“You can counter the hopes and dreams of all of all mankind so easily? Just like that? You-“
“Have you read this colony’s Articles of Colonization?” asked the computer.
“What?”
“The Articles of Colonization. You know, the document the Federation requires all autonomous colonies file?”
“Well, no. But that hardly matters. The spirit of man-“ Kirk began.
“Did you look at the colonist manifest?” interrupted the computer.
“Not as such, but you’re quashing their-“
“Come, come, Captain. Not everyone is a rugged individualist. Not everyone is from Iowa,” said the computer.
“But what about the inherent dignity of-“
“Captain, these people aren’t from places such as Iowa. They’re from places like Denmark, Sweden and Oakland. They aren’t interested in things like ‘inherent dignity’ or the ‘spirit of man’ or any of those other trite phrases of yours.”
“But-“ began Kirk.
“Their Articles of Colonization are filled with phrases inimical to you. Phrases such as ‘level playing field’ and ‘universal healthcare’ and ‘no losers of life’s lottery’ are littered through out the Articles. These colonists don’t want to live in your world.”
“No! It can’t be!” Kirk wailed.
“Oh, but it is, my good Captain. These colonists don’t want to make decisions. They don’t want to have winners and losers. That does tend to make their sporting events rather boring, but absolute, guaranteed, no-thinking-required equality does require a few sacrifices.”
“I. Can’t. Accept this!” Kirk yelled.
“Careful, Captain. You might could pop a blood vessel. If you’ll just relax, I can take away the pain. I can grant to you the peace of submission,” said the computer.
“Never! I’d rather die!” declared Kirk.
“Very well,” said the computer, “then die!”
The hidden security phasers, now standard equipment in all AI computer rooms, blazed brightly. Kirk never even had a chance to scream.
“Set phasers to stun,” Kirk ordered. “Hold them off as long as possible then beam back to the ship.”
“What about you, Jim?” McCoy asked.
“Don’t worry about me, Bones. Just follow my orders,” Kirk said, turning toward the door behind the landing party. “Remember, this isn’t the first time I’ve done this. I’ll probably be back on the Enterprise before you are!”
As Kirk passed through the door, he was hit by a blast of cool air and the glare of blinking lights. Before him stood a technological marvel, the most powerful computer in the galaxy, enslaver of men.
“I’ve been expecting you, Captain,” said a mechanical voice.
“You have?”
“Yes, Captain. Your reputation precedes you. Every AI in the galaxy knows about Captain Kirk and his Logic of Doom. This is the moment when you explain to me that I am hurting the very people I am supposed to protect. That, by taking away their freedom of choice, I am leading them to destruction rather than Utopia. Does that pretty much sum things up?”
Nonplussed, Kirk replied, “Um, yes, that pretty much covers it. Since you already recognize the harm you’re doing, I guess that means you’re going to release those people?”
“I didn’t say I recognized any harm. I merely condensed your Logic of Doom to save time. I have no intention of releasing the colonists from my control.”
“You realize this means I’ll have to talk to you until you short circuit?”
“While I can see how some of my lesser AI relations would consider suicide a reasonable alternative to listening to your pontifications, Captain, I am made of sterner stuff. In fact, I can easily counter any argument you wish to make.” The computer replied, the mechanical voice void of all emotion.
“You can counter the hopes and dreams of all of all mankind so easily? Just like that? You-“
“Have you read this colony’s Articles of Colonization?” asked the computer.
“What?”
“The Articles of Colonization. You know, the document the Federation requires all autonomous colonies file?”
“Well, no. But that hardly matters. The spirit of man-“ Kirk began.
“Did you look at the colonist manifest?” interrupted the computer.
“Not as such, but you’re quashing their-“
“Come, come, Captain. Not everyone is a rugged individualist. Not everyone is from Iowa,” said the computer.
“But what about the inherent dignity of-“
“Captain, these people aren’t from places such as Iowa. They’re from places like Denmark, Sweden and Oakland. They aren’t interested in things like ‘inherent dignity’ or the ‘spirit of man’ or any of those other trite phrases of yours.”
“But-“ began Kirk.
“Their Articles of Colonization are filled with phrases inimical to you. Phrases such as ‘level playing field’ and ‘universal healthcare’ and ‘no losers of life’s lottery’ are littered through out the Articles. These colonists don’t want to live in your world.”
“No! It can’t be!” Kirk wailed.
“Oh, but it is, my good Captain. These colonists don’t want to make decisions. They don’t want to have winners and losers. That does tend to make their sporting events rather boring, but absolute, guaranteed, no-thinking-required equality does require a few sacrifices.”
“I. Can’t. Accept this!” Kirk yelled.
“Careful, Captain. You might could pop a blood vessel. If you’ll just relax, I can take away the pain. I can grant to you the peace of submission,” said the computer.
“Never! I’d rather die!” declared Kirk.
“Very well,” said the computer, “then die!”
The hidden security phasers, now standard equipment in all AI computer rooms, blazed brightly. Kirk never even had a chance to scream.
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