212 lines
9.1 KiB
Plaintext
212 lines
9.1 KiB
Plaintext
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"The Adventures of Lone Wolf Scientific"
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An electronically syndicated series that
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follows the exploits of two madcap
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mavens of high-technology. Copyright 1991
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Michy Peshota. May not be distributed
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without accompanying WELCOME.LWS and
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EPISOD.LWS files.
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----------------------
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Welcome to The People's Republic of
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Electrical Engineering
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"Abandon Hope Ye Who Enter Here"
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>>Andrew.BAS, the dimpled young computer programmer who
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looks like the kind of programmer Norman Rockwell would have
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drawn, is horrified to learn that he will be writing batch
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files to aim nuclear missiles. Meanwhile, his new
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officemate gets into a snit with their boss over anti-static
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boot mats.<<
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By M. Peshota
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The engineer-manager, striding ahead of them into the
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darkness, droned on like a cardboard sergeant. "Should you
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find yourself lost in the research and development sub-sub-
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sub-sub-sub-sub-sub-basement, just follow the jet engine
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pieces on the floor. They'll lead you straight into heart
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of The People's Republic of Engineering."
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S-max grunted in appreciation for this travelling tip.
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A stricken Andrew.BAS whispered to him, "I still can't get
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over the fact that we're going to be building nuclear bombs.
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The employee recruitment brochures that they passed out at
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my college never said anything about writing batch files to
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aim missiles at major population centers."
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"Will you just mellow out!" the computer builder huffed
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in impatience. "I don't see why you can't make the best of
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this. Just because you'd rather be a space cadet than work
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for a military contractor is no reason to incessantly whine
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in my ear. I, personally, am looking forward to the
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opportunity to work with state-of-the-art peace-keeping
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materials." He grunted. "Just think of all the wonderful
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things you'll be able to do with a surface-to-air missile."
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Rounding a hall corner, the trio heard a maniacal
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shriek, then spotted the shadow of a hunchback in a space
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suit scurrying across the path in front of them.
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Farwick noticed Andrew.BAS gaping at a printout banner
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that clung to a cinderblock wall like refuse from a failed
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liberty uprising. It read: "Welcome to the Gus Farwick's
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People's Republic of Engineering, Abandon All Hope Ye Who
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Enter Here." The engineer-manager smiled. "The research
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engineers and I share a remarkable relationship. Some of
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them think of me as their father. That's probably because I
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enjoy hearing about the things they do, even though the
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technicalities involved make no sense to me."
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S-max shot Andrew.BAS a look of intense and profound
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relief. The programmer wondered what that meant.
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Their new boss continued, "We do a lot of special
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things together here in The People's Republic of EE. Last
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month, for instance, I treated everyone to new alligator
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clips. Sometimes we sit around during lunch and talk about
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electricity. That's how close we are."
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The trio reached a drain-opener green door. A yellowed
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window mounted in the center and reinforced with chicken
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wire suggested a cross between a door from a seedy public
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washroom and a San Quentin cell. Farwick jiggled the knob
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and swung the door open with a clatter. "Mr. Jellowack!" he
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chimed. "I have officemates for you!"
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They spotted, hunched in a far corner of the office,
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what looked like a gargoyle with humungous black-rimmed
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glasses bobbing askewedly from his nose. Perched on a tall
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stool in front of a computer terminal, his hair and fingers
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flying, he looked like a dungeon apprentice to lunacy. He
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peered at them with dark feral child eyes for a second, then
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his gaze darted back to the terminal screen as if he
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preferred to think they didn't exist.
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"This is Mr. Jellowack," Farwick motioned to him. "He
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programs exclusively in assembly language, sometimes for
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days without sleep, fresh air, nourishment, or healthy human
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contact. This, I am told, is something at which to both
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marvel and consider highly dangerous."
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S-max squinted suspiciously at the assembler savant as
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if he could see already how dangerous he was.
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Andrew.BAS waved at him in a bright-eyed, friendly
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programmerly fashion. "Hello, Mr. Jellowack!" he hailed.
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"My name is Andrew.BAS. My favorite programming language is
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C, although I do occasionally enjoy adding assembly language
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subroutines to my code."
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S-max rolled his eyes in disgust at such a mawkish
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display of the over-friendliness programmers like to lavish
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upon each other at any meeting.
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Mr. Jellowack ignored them and continued prancing his
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scarred knuckles over the keys.
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Farwick swept around the office, arms extended, like a
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real estate agent. "One of the many amenities of this
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particular office," he began, "is the plastic boot mat in
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the corner." He pointed at it with pride.
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S-max scrutinized it. "Is it anti-static?"
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"Umm..."
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"THEN WHAT GOOD IS IT?!" the indignant computer builder
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howled.
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Farwick paused in distress, then ignored him and
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continued on in an animated, Cavalcade of Homes fashion.
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"But wait!" he said. "There are other hidden graces to this
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particular earthen sanctum---"
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S-max glared at the battered metal desk in the center
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of the office. "Why is there only one empty desk?" he
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demanded. He unfastened the big, plastic walkie-talkie that
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was clipped to his belt. He slammed it onto the desk with a
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territorial fury. "And why isn't Andrew.BAS getting a
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desk?"
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Farwick paused and gazed at the desk. Yes, the wierd
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man with the walkie-talkie was correct. There was only one
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empty desk, and he had two new employees to accomodate.
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What to do? He bit his lip in indecision. He hated
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requisitioning office furniture. There were so many forms
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to fill out, so many questions to answer, so many big green
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boxes to check. He finally mumbled, "I suppose you two can
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share the desk."
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"I DO NOT SHARE DESKS!" S-max erupted.
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Farwick quivered.
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"I AM A FAMOUS COMPUTER DESIGNER! I AM USED TO SPECIAL
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TREATMENT!" The enraged computer builder flung his baboon-
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big arms in the air, all the while rattling like a million
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broken screwdrivers. "At other high-tech installations
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where I have worked, I was not only given my own boot mat
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and my own pad of While-You-Were-Out memos, I was allowed to
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walk around in jeweled slippers!" he howled. "I had an
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office that that overlooked a major freeway! I had an index
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card with my own name printed on it, spelled correctly too
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and taped to the office door! It was taped with the highest
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quality masking tape available! I was provided with an
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almost limitless supply of Post-It Notes! Think about it:
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<<a limitless supply>>! The crowds gasped and parted
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whenever I walked in the direction of the Cray-YMP with a
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screwdriver!" He huffed and sputtered and pulled from a
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pocket inside his army jacket the most humungous circuit
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diagram that Farwick had ever seen. He crushed it into a
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desk drawer. "Some days I played video games until I
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dropped!" he continued hotly. "Other days I took naps at my
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desk! My wastebasket was emptied almost daily! People
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retrieved for me my t-shirts and gym socks whenever I
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dropped them in the hall! THAT'S BECAUSE I AM A FAMOUS
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COMPUTER DESIGNER! I AM USED TO SPECIAL TREATMENT!" As he
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glared at Farwick, the engineer-manager felt every fiber in
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his body turn to pudding. "I do not share things,
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especially not desks, and <<especially>> not with some low-
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life computer programmer!" S-max motioned irritatedly in
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the direction of Andrew.BAS.
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Andrew.BAS wondered what he had done to deserve the
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designation of low-life. Meekly, he placed his backpack
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full of engineering textbooks and his briefcase full of sci-
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fi novels on the floor beside him. "I'll just sit on the
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floor," he volunteered politely. "The last thing I want to
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do is cramp S-max's style."
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S-max looked relieved. So did Farwick.
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The engineer-manager clapped his hands together. "Then
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we are all moved in."
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S-max looked around the office bewildered. "One last
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question," he said. "Where is my champagne-filled Jacuzzi?"
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"You'll have to take that up with the sales and
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marketing department." The engineere-manager bolted towards
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the door. "They have all the champagne-filled Jacuzzis at
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the moment. We don't get many down here in R and D unless
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they're in need of a new landing gear or something like
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that." With that, the frightened Farwick fled down the
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hall, leaving the self-proclaimed "famous computer designer"
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scowling indignantly and the gentlehearted computer
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programmer wondering what he had done to deserve a life of
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sitting on the floor, programming nuclear missiles to
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annihilate major population centers.
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>>>>In the next installment, "Bad Days Befall the People's
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Republic of Electrical Engineering," engineer-manager Gus
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Farwick contemplates ways to keep the restive S-max safely
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in his desk and out of trouble.>>>>
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<Finis>
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