463 lines
16 KiB
Plaintext
463 lines
16 KiB
Plaintext
Ok, h{r {r del tre fr}n den of|rb{tterligen M Smithwich...
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Mycket n|je / Zaphod
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-------------------------------------------------------------------------
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From: mike@ames.arc.nasa.gov (Mike Smithwick)
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Subject: Re: ac
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tivate Spam detectors
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Keywords: blast 'em all
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Organization: NASA Ames Research Center, Moffett Field, Calif.
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[]
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Just when you thought it was safe to get back on net.news,
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comes. . .
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>>> AmigaTrek - The Next Generation 3.0 <<<
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Tonight's episode : Revenge of the Marketroids, part 3
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- The Final Battle -
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-----------------------------------------------------------
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In our last neuron numbing episode our (mostly) fearless crew had
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been captured by the evil Lord of marketroids, Generalissimo
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Akers, ruler of Businesslandia. Here they learned of his low-
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level plan to convert the entire universe into minions of
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"Oh-Oh-S-2", the "Operating System of the BrainDead". Next he
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created clones of Captain Dale and en tire crew, (complete with
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Look and Feel of the originals), and quickly dispatched them in
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real-time to the DevCon being held at MouseFleet Academy. . .
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==========================================================
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Chapter 0
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It was a gala event, glitter, excitement and M&Ms were in
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abundance. Searchlights pierced the sky, scanf-ing back and forth
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playing hide-and-fseek with each other.
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The official MouseFleet punk band ("The Trashed Registers"
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playing their hit single "You May Have Misaligned Words, but I
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Have an Offset for You") welcomed bank after bank of delegates
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from here and abroad. Eager journalists from Blazing Computing,
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Amiga Whirl and other such rags jostled each other for the best
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posture behind the barricades. Then there was the frenzied throng
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of groupies, curiosity seekers and autograph hunters hoping for
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the chance to catch a mere glimpse of greatness.
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One by one the stretch limos pulled up at the entrance and one by
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on the celebrities stepped out to be greeted by a blinding
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explosion of flashes from the paparazzi.
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"There's Joanne Dow!!" screamed an excited software groupie.
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Flashes from the cameras followed the enigmatic Wizardess as she
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darted into the hall, her fur-trimmed cape fluttering behind.
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"Oh! Look! There's Robyn LaPasha, and no, it can't be, Fred
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Fish?", shouted one feverish groupie, Paula. Her harried friend,
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Denise, jumped up and down, clapping her hands together, "Oh,
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he's soooo cute!".
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Fred waved cheerfully to the mob.
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Still more limos DMAed people to the palace. Finally, after what
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seemed like forever, appeared the one many had come to see.
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"Oh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THERE HE IS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!", shouted Paula
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hysterically. "THERE'S MIKE SMITHWICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!". They
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jumped, frantically waving their hands to catch his attention.
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"Wow, what a bod!!" Denise said.
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"Yeah, and isn't his Galileo program rad!".
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"I'll say, and I hear it won an award at the Chicago Consumer
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Electronics Show, too."
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Mike, never one to spurn the recognition he so richly deserved,
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swept into the crowd to shake hands, sign copies of his
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award-winning, rad program, kiss babies, and debug code people
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had brought. Hands thrust out from the crowd, from spectators
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wanting only to touch him. Beautiful women fainted at his feet.
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Ah, but he was used to this.
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Once they recovered the young women turned their attention back
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to the rest of the activity.
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"Who's that?" asked Denise.
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"Uh, I think it's Randy Spencer".
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"Oh".
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And still the pantheon of immortality continued to scroll through
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the evening.
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There was Jim Goodnow the 7.2x10^23th, Guy "I'm always" Wright
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and Tim Geniusson Lord of NewTekia with his band of cool guys.
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Next came the delegation from C-(un)Ltd, followed by groups from
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Nerd Perfect (the one's who brought you the combination Word-Food
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Processor), A-Cubed, MicroDellusions and many others.
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And the rabble nearly went Berserk.
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Finally, the real stars arrived, the crew of the StarChip
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EnterBoing. . .
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Out stepped Captain Dale, and all hell broke loose forcing the
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riot police to call for reinforcements. Immediately behind him
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was Ensigns Jimm, Dave, Bryce, followed by Lord Leo. But wait!!
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All was not right in Amiga-land. They were all wearing, gulp,
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>>> T I E S <<< !
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All at once a murmur rippled through the crowd like the shock-
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wave from a small nuclear.device.
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====================================================
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Chapter 1
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Even as the delegates were seg-loading up on the conference
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documentation, disks and Commodore Toy secret decoder rings,
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roomers began to spreadsheet around of an impending announcement.
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Some new vaporous-ware perhaps? The release of the long awaited
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6502 daughter board? Would Manx announce their support for
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double-precision characters needed for those pesky
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extraterrestrial alphabets?
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Quickly enough the technical sessions began and everyone scatter-
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loaded into different meeting rooms. Topics such as "You and the
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BlitterCritter","Assembly Made Easy in 1598 single-Steps","How to
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Market your Bad Ideas", "Crappy Software: The Ultimate Copy
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Protection!", and "Effective Use of the Trashdisk.device".
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However, the highest priority event was expected to be at the
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general sessions, where all eagerly awaited to see Leo's "Latest
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Screen Hack".
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"What would it be" they eagerly asked themselves. "A ball
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juggling unicycles? A unicycle juggling balls?, A unicycle
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juggling unicycles?". A hush wafted through the room when the Leo
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clone entered.
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"That red tie, it still didn't look right on him" they all
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thought synchronously at the same time. It made him seem like a
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picture which was just slightly tilted. Leo took his seat.
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"Hey! Let's see a screen hack! We're die'n back here!"
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The Leo-clone l
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ooked up. "Huh? Screen wha. . . Oops, ahh, so
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sorry sir, I'm just too busy working on important stuff like
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'office solutions'".
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A collective gasp of horror went up from the gathering.
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Later that nite a couple of representative from RSN Software and
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Regressive Peripherals were chatting at a classy nearby
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restaurant about unusual events.
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"So anyway, I saw Captain Dale playing with SuperDeluxe Paint-by-
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Numbers and the Flicker FixerUpper. . ."
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"Your pull-down menu sir" interrupted the waiter, double-clicking
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his shoes.
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"Thanks" replied the RSN delegate, nibbling on a roll, Byte-by-
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Byte. "Well, anyway, the system GURU'ed, and Dale said to himself
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'What's a GURU?'. I tell ya, I sense a parity error here. . ."
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====================================================
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Chapter 2
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In the darkness of their cell-block, Captain Dale and his crew
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remained Locked up in hash-chains. Stripped of their hacker-
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blasters there was little they could do.
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"Oh darn!" said Leo, "if only there as a
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way to call
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DisplayAlert() to tell people we're here".
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An agitated Jimm jumped in, "Pipe: down you dipswitch! They'll
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never find us!"
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All of a sudden, a blinding light appeared in the room. There
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stood a powerfully built figure, hands on hips, w
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earing blue tights. A brilliant cape danced behind him. On his
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chest was a handsome ray-traced "R".
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"Oh my!" Dale burst out. "It's >>> RENDERMAN <<<!!!".
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"You're so right oh shaggy one" Renderman decreed.
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"What are you doing here?"
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"Well, I was
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on my way to Pixaria, when I sensed that this stupid
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little story needed serious help."
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"Boy does it Renderman" the shapely Lauren exclaimed. "We hafta
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get on to our next and most exciting episode yet, to go were no
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pun has gone before. . ."
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"Here are your blaster thingies. And now, off with your chains".
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With one mighty sweep of his hand, the locks were XORed, and
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magically vanished from their wrists. "Ta ta gang", and faster
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than a screen-refresh, Renderman vanished.
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The crew hurried out the cell, blasters drawn, and scuttled down
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the darkened passageway. . .
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==================================================
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Chapter 3
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Now, in it's second day, the delegates filed into the main()
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hall. A note of anticipation hung in the air. On the long
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symbol-table in the front were a number of veiled boxes. The
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Dale-clone stepped up to the podium, wisps of vapor trailing
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close to his heels. Not only was he wearing a tie, but a fine
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Italian 3 piece suit. The picture was severly tilted
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now. Cuddled under his arm was a stack of viewgraphs.
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"Ladies and Gentlemen", he started, motioning for the crowd to
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quiet.
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"Over the past years, we've been intensely developing something
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to help you developers. Something you have all been clamoring
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for. We've listened, and we care. Therefore, I am here to
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announce the development of >>> A New Operating System <<<."
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The delegates looked at each other with eager faces.
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"Quiet please, quiet. We've heard your cries. Yes, we've gotten
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rid of BCPL. . ."
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The audience applauded enthusiastically.
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". . . we've added memory management!"
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They jumped up cheering.
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". . . it has advanced IPC!!"
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The crowd was now standing on their seats.
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"It's four times bigger, and is MS-DOG compatile!!!"
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Silence.
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"Uh. . ., well. . ., I introduce Oh-Oh-S/2!"
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With that, Dale yanked off the covers over the mysterious boxes.
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The audience dropped their collective jaw, for there stood some
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unimpressive small units, each showing a simple A: prompt.
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The delegates stared with a blank OpenLook.
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Dale continued on, "Uh, of course those window thingies will come
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when the 'Presentation Damager' is released, uh, one-of-these-
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days-in-the-near-future-real-soon-now".
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By now some of the attendees began to huddle around the machines,
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poking and probing every connector or on-off switch. One however
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spotted something odd on the back.
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"Hey, all of the Serial Numbers begin with '666'!".
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=====================================================
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Chapter 4
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Sneaking around the corner, the crew spotted a couple of
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marketroid sentries. Realizing they needed a disguise, they
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formulated some quick algorithms. . .
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Jimm emerged from the shadows and headed straight towards the
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guards armed with a request no marketroid could resist.
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"Excuse me guys, could you explain to me, a, ahem, 'power-user',
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office-solutions to fit my needs?"
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"You bet!" they replied in eager unison.
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One marketroid immediately pulled out a stack of viewgraphs and
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doughnuts from his briefcase.
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With their victims distracted, Dale and Carolyn snuck out of the
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darkness and clobbered them with a compatibility-box, knocking
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them out like a cold-reset. Kodiak and Dave scooped up the
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briefcases, and removed their power-ties.
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Within minutes, everyone was suitably outfitted, and on their
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ways to Generalissimo Aker's office.
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-----
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"Do you have an appointment?" yawned the secretary.
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"No, but we'll be just a minute" replied Lauren. With that, they
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coolly raised their blasters and fired at the door.
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=====================================================
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Chapter 5
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"GET THEM!! THEY'RE IMPOSTORS!" shouted an angry Randy Spencer.
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The clones, fear filling their eyes, dashed out of the room and
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scrambled down the hallway. The frenzied horde thundered close
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behind.
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Fred Fish heading the pack, launched disk after disk towards the
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clones like so many tiny frisbees. The Lauren Brown clone was the
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first to fall, followed by the Jimm clone. Both were disassembled
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immediately. The Dale clone tripped over a bunch of
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hunk-headers scattered in the hallway, and wacked his ROM on the
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floor.
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The remaining clones scurried around the corner, barely out of
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reach from the slavering mob. Hands grasped for their ties.
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Directly in front of them at the end of the hall stood an
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enormous menacing woman. With her arms crossed she stood squarely
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in the way of the elevator.
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"Oh no!" shouted the Leo clone, "It's FAT-AGNUS!".
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Surrounded, the clones gave up their resources and were lead off
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to judgment.
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====================================================
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Chapter 6
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Generalissimo Akers didn't know what hit him. Kodiak blasted away
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with a liberal dose of RGB rays. Aker's flesh became strangely
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rubber-like, causing his legs to fall out from under his frame.
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Next, Dale synced his beam, and coolly fired off a series of
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killer demos.
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The Lord of Marketroids crashed to the floor. Dave knelt down to
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the body and looked into it's eyes. "He's BrainDead Jim".
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"HA, HA, HA, I always wanted to say that!"
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====================================================
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Chapter 7
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They're duty completed in Busnesslandia, the crew was now faced
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with the task (or is it 'process'?) of getting home.
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"Hey, hi guys!" came an unlikely, but familiar Chicago accent
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from off the set.
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"RJ?"
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"Uh, yeah. Boy, you guys seem like you really needed some help as
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does this story. So, I got my secret new StarChip out back. . ."
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"How did you know we were here?" inquired Carolyn.
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"Oh, let's just say that I used my 'Intuition'. Ha! Ha! Ha! I
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always wanted to say that!!"
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"So let's go!" shouted Leo.
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"Not so fast, you'll have to sign these non-disclosure forms
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first, then well be on our way, on a journey of, heh, heh, 'Epyx'
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proportions."
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After filling out exactly 157 pieces of paper, and answering
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questions such as "what arn't your favorite colors" and
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"honestly, have you really played all Zork games all the way
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through without cheating?" they were out the door. Soon enough,
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R and the crew were escaping Businesslandia is his as yet
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unreleased [[technical descriptions of this vehicle have been
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removed to avoid possible legal complications]] that will blow
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your socks off!!
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=======================================================
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Chapter 8
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"Captain's log, Boingdate: 2001-20-20. After our harrowing
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adventure and subsequent escape from the hands of the crazed
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marketroids, I thought my men deserved a little R&R. So we've set
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course for the planet of NewTekia. Now, NewTekia is a bountiful
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garden paradise, perfect in every way, except for one tiny little
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problem. . ."
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-------
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Jimm stared at the scintillating globe they were approaching.
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"Message coming in Captain" reported Bryce.
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"Put it on the screen ensign".
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On the forward DigiViewer appeared the most majestically
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beautiful woman anyone has ever seen. Her eyes darted like little
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fires, her hair radiant as burnished gold.
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"WOWEE ZOWEE, GETTA LOAD OF THAT STACKWARE!" hooted Jim.
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Bryce added, "yeah, dig her form-factor!".
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"Hi!" said the woman, "wel-wel-welcom to. . .Hi! welcome-come to
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N-N-New-New. . . Hi! wel-welcome to-to N-NewTekia!"
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"Captain, something appears to be wrong with our receiver".
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"No ensign, that's the way they normally talk".
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======================================================
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Chapter 9
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Choosing sanity over lust, the EnterBoing continued past
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NewTekia, and sailed to the outer reaches of normalized-vector
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space in search of future gags.
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Meanwhile the surviving clones were sentenced to 80,386 years in
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"marketing hell" where they were forced to sell Commodore Plus
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Fours, C-16s and B128s to bank managers in Medford, Oregon.
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And who says there aint no justice.
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======================================================
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Glossary :
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OpenLook - A hoped for windowing standard being peddled by Sun
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Microsystems. If defines the appearance of windows, menus, use of
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sliders, spam, etc.
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Renderman - a curiously named 3-D rendering standard developed by
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Pixar.
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The above null-sense is Copyright 1988 by Mike Smithwick. If ya
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wanna re-post it, ask me first. Thankyouverymuch. %-)
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--
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*** mike (starship janitor) smithwick ***
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"You can fool some of the people all of the time, or all of the people
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some of the time, but you can't fool Mom".
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[disclaimer : nope, I don't work for NASA, I take full blame for my ideas]
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