331 lines
13 KiB
Plaintext
331 lines
13 KiB
Plaintext
--------------------------------------------
|
|
"THE ADVENTURES OF LONE WOLF SCIENTIFIC"
|
|
-----------------------------------------
|
|
"The Adventures of Lone Wolf Scientific" is
|
|
an electronically syndicated series that
|
|
follows the exploits of two madcap
|
|
technology entrepreneurs. Copyright 1991,
|
|
1992 Michy Peshota. May not be distributed
|
|
without accompany WELCOME.LWS and EPISOD.LWS
|
|
files.
|
|
-------------------------------------------
|
|
EPISODE #20
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
What Research and Development Was Always Meant To Be
|
|
|
|
>>>>>Computer genius S-max has a midnight brainstorm. His
|
|
business partner is sobered by the realization of what weeks
|
|
of R and D can sometimes lead to.<<<<<
|
|
|
|
by M. Peshota
|
|
|
|
|
|
>>"Chief Engineer Sebastian! Thirty seconds before the
|
|
shields collapse! We have to get those engines back
|
|
online!"
|
|
|
|
The brave computer programmer, oblivious to the
|
|
hysteria growing on the bridge, watched the code skidding
|
|
over his computer terminal screen. Deftly, he typed in a
|
|
GOTO.
|
|
|
|
"Chief Engineer Sebastian! If it weren't for those
|
|
stupid hardware engineers we wouldn't have lost the warp
|
|
engines!"
|
|
|
|
The captain's nerves were nearing meltdown, but the
|
|
programmer remained calm. He always did in crisis. He
|
|
typed in the last line of the circuit bypass that would save
|
|
<<The Starship Enterprise>> and its crew from total and
|
|
immediate destruction by the disruptors of the approaching
|
|
Romulans.
|
|
|
|
He hit <enter> and smiled as he heard the reassuring
|
|
hum and whir of the warp engines firing. They sounded like
|
|
vacuum cleaner attachments.
|
|
|
|
Never again, he vowed, settling back in his chair with
|
|
a victorious simper, would they let the hardware engineers
|
|
tamper with the personnel department's database
|
|
software....<<
|
|
|
|
"Andrew.BAS! Let me in, quick!"
|
|
|
|
He cracked open an eye.
|
|
|
|
"Hurry! I have a product idea and I don't think it
|
|
will last very long!"
|
|
|
|
Andrew.BAS groaned in his half-wakened state. He heard
|
|
thumping on the attic door. It was not the magisterial
|
|
voice of the starship captain that hailed him, nor the
|
|
beastly growl of his Klingon security officer--
|
|
|
|
He groped around disorientedly on the Microsoft box
|
|
beside his bed for his glasses.
|
|
|
|
"Andrew.BAS! Hurry! I've just discovered what
|
|
research and development was always meant to be!"
|
|
|
|
Although it sounded a great deal like the infantile
|
|
whine of a thwarted Romulan, it was not that either.
|
|
Instead, it was the hysterical blat of his high-strung
|
|
business partner--a hardware engineer. A hardware engineer
|
|
just like the ones who had gummed up the warp engines. He
|
|
could heard him iggling the knob and heaving his thug-like
|
|
bulk impatiently against the door.
|
|
|
|
"One minute, please," said Andrew.BAS. Dazed, he sat
|
|
on the edge of his cot and slid on his slippers. What time
|
|
was it anyway? He looked at the digital clock on the box.
|
|
Three a.m. His head felt heavy as a loaded cattle-car.
|
|
|
|
<<"Chief Engineer Sebastian, you're the only one who
|
|
can save us from the crazy hardware engineers....">>
|
|
|
|
"Please hurry, Andrew.BAS!" he heard his business
|
|
partner whine.
|
|
|
|
He had barely lifted the latch on the attic door when
|
|
the pajamaed computer builder shoved his way in. He flung
|
|
his arms in the air and blurted, "We can build a computer
|
|
operating system! Every computer needs an operating
|
|
system!"
|
|
|
|
Andrew.BAS gazed at him in distress. He noticed for
|
|
the first time how much his matted Valley of the Apes coif
|
|
made him look like a rabid Klingon. He cupped his hand to
|
|
his mouth in a yawn.
|
|
|
|
S-max seized him by the collar of his pajamas, and
|
|
blatted in his face, "Listen, we can give our computer
|
|
operating system important features that other computer
|
|
companies, through egregious misperceptions of the needs of
|
|
the technological marketplace, have forgotten to build into
|
|
their computer operating systems--like the ability to
|
|
remotely steer radio-controlled model cars from the command
|
|
line--"
|
|
|
|
"Huh?"
|
|
|
|
"That's right, no computer operating system has this
|
|
fundamental feature at the moment--incredible as it may
|
|
seem." S-max grunted. "We will also design it so that it
|
|
can pick up radio stations in Los Angeles, interfere with
|
|
the geosynchronous orbits of other people's satellites,
|
|
direct submarine reconnaissance in the Arctic Circle,
|
|
interfere with television reception in hostile lands, beam
|
|
digital images to Phobos. These can be major selling
|
|
points. To build it we can use up some of those old Z80
|
|
boards that are starting to fill up the garage."
|
|
|
|
The sleepy programmer slid his wirerims to the top of
|
|
his nose, perturbed. He reflected, his face a placid moon.
|
|
He finally said, "I don't know if anyone's ever mentioned
|
|
this to you before, S-max, but most computer operating
|
|
systems are fashioned of software. They're not build out of
|
|
old Z80 boards."
|
|
|
|
"And that's what's wrong with them," S-max scowled. He
|
|
wagged a finger in disgust. "If they were, they could have
|
|
lots of buttons, toggles, and switches, and bright lights
|
|
and batteries, and an internal fan, and tons of electrical
|
|
cords and interesting cables dangling off the back. Where's
|
|
your entrepreneurial spirit, Andrew.BAS?"
|
|
|
|
"Vanishing fast."
|
|
|
|
"Now, look." He paced the floor in thought. "You
|
|
write the software part of the operating system, and <<I>>
|
|
will build the hardware part of the operating system, and
|
|
then we can put them together and see if they work."
|
|
|
|
"They won't," said Andrew.BAS. "I can assure you of
|
|
that now."
|
|
|
|
"No, no, Andrew.BAS!" he wailed, once again wagging his
|
|
finger in reprimand. "Let's not be so cynical at this
|
|
early, critical stage in the research and development
|
|
process. It is wholly antithetical to the atmosphere of
|
|
daily technological excitement that we are trying to build
|
|
here at Lone Wolf Scientific, Inc. Migod, you programmers
|
|
are always such killjoys! Now listen to me." He grabbed
|
|
him by the shoulders. "<<You>> write the software part, and
|
|
<<I>> will build the hardware part, and then we will sell
|
|
them."
|
|
|
|
"To who?"
|
|
|
|
"To anyone who wants a computer operating system with
|
|
which they can remotely control model cars, boats, planes,
|
|
and trucks from the command line! Haven't you been
|
|
listening to me? Haven't you heard what I've been saying?
|
|
Have I been painting my life's hopes, dreams, plans, and
|
|
ambitions half the night to an insensate home computer?" He
|
|
gestured disparagingly toward the small computer next to
|
|
Andrew.BAS's cot.
|
|
|
|
"It's not a home computer," the programmer corrected.
|
|
"It's an Apollo workstation. And it's a very powerful
|
|
computer." He smiled at his beloved software development
|
|
computer, a machine on which he dotted with an almost
|
|
mawkish affection. He patted its well-polished monitor. He
|
|
smiled at it. "But don't worry," he said, "I don't think it
|
|
was offended much. It had its disks optimized today and I
|
|
installed on it a new C compiler, so it's in especially
|
|
high-spirits."
|
|
|
|
S-max scowled at the programmer's saccharine affection
|
|
toward the tidy computer, squinting at it skeptically, wary
|
|
of any contraption a programmer might find worthy of
|
|
adoration. Suddenly, his potent Ghaddafi-like eyes
|
|
brightened with interest.
|
|
|
|
But before Andrew.BAS could spot this most telling
|
|
symptom of another mad idea swirling in his partner's
|
|
feverish mind, S-max hurried on to detail all the marvelous
|
|
computer peripherals that could be attached to a computer
|
|
whose operating system was capable of interfering with
|
|
television reception in hostile lands.
|
|
|
|
"We could daisy-chain a gas grill to it and cook
|
|
fajitas while the operating system is running maintenance
|
|
on Neptune--" he said.
|
|
|
|
It took almost thirty minutes for Andrew.BAS to calm
|
|
him and convince him to return downstairs to the livingroom
|
|
and the research couch upon which he slept. When he did, he
|
|
insisted upon taking along Andrew.BAS's Apollo computer,
|
|
claiming that having such a powerful computer near his bed
|
|
would help him sleep. Since Andrew.BAS often found this to
|
|
be the case himself, he didn't object too much.
|
|
|
|
Once S-max was gone, he returned to his small, folding
|
|
cot and tried to fall back asleep. His sleep was restless,
|
|
though. Many times throughout the night he was awakened by
|
|
sounds of pounding, sawing, welding, soldering, hammering,
|
|
and wire-snipping filtering up from the livingroom below.
|
|
He shuddered to think what the morning light might bring to
|
|
Lone Wolf Scientific, Inc.
|
|
|
|
When Andrew.BAS descended the stairs in the morning, he
|
|
found, to his dismay, his partner, still p.j.-clad, fussily
|
|
wiring a pair of rabbit ear antenna to the top of his
|
|
treasured Apollo computer. A large metal ammunition box was
|
|
riveted to its rear. He hurried the rest of the way down
|
|
the steps, trying to remain calm.
|
|
|
|
"Good morning, Andrew.BAS!" the computer builder
|
|
hailed, waving a conspicuously solder-caked soldering iron
|
|
in greeting. "You'll never believe what I've been up all
|
|
night doing."
|
|
|
|
"Beaming digital images to Phobos?"
|
|
|
|
"Even better. I've been building more and more
|
|
revolutionary features into our new computer operating
|
|
system. Each feature is better than the last. Take a look
|
|
at this feature." He pointed to the small slot filed
|
|
crookedly on the top of the ammunition box that was riveted
|
|
to the backside of the $10,000 computer. "You'll never
|
|
guess what this is. I'll give you a hint, though: it is
|
|
totally revolutionary. It will transform the world of high-
|
|
technology as we know it."
|
|
|
|
"That's where you deposit the quarters to get the
|
|
operating system running?" said Andrew.BAS dourly.
|
|
|
|
"'Migosh, Andrew.BAS, you are correct!" S-max
|
|
exclaimed. "You must have been up all night thinking like
|
|
me! (How very impressive. Obviously my presence in your
|
|
disheveled programmerly life is starting to make its good
|
|
influence known.) Yes, this is in fact where you deposit
|
|
the quarters. Seventy-five cents will give you fifteen
|
|
minutes of pure operating system pleasure." He grunted and
|
|
fumbled in his pajama pockets. "Can I borrow some
|
|
quarters?"
|
|
|
|
"No."
|
|
|
|
"But Andrew.BAS!" he wailed. "I want to demonstrate
|
|
fifteen minutes of pure operating system pleasure. How are
|
|
you going to be able to write the software for this
|
|
complicated high-tech product and provide the technical
|
|
support if you have never seen it in operation?"
|
|
|
|
"I'll read the description on the box."
|
|
|
|
"No, no, you won't!" he declared. "You'll deposit
|
|
quarters just like everyone else. Where do you think Bill
|
|
Gates would be today if someone had asked him to deposit
|
|
quarters in one of his operating systems and he had
|
|
refused?"
|
|
|
|
"Making twice as much money as he is now?"
|
|
|
|
S-max scowled at his partner's humorless quip. "Let's
|
|
not be uppity, Andrew.BAS." He shook a blasted screwdriver.
|
|
"I am giving you the opportunity to not only shape the
|
|
future of global technology--"
|
|
|
|
"Wait a second. I thought we were only shaping the
|
|
future of American technology."
|
|
|
|
"Well now it's global technology as well--thanks to my
|
|
hard work." He snorted. "You should be eternally grateful
|
|
to me for what I have done for you. I challenge you to find
|
|
another computer inventor of my stature who would stoop to
|
|
include a mere nincompoop computer programmer such as
|
|
yourself in the early moments of their product's R and D
|
|
magic. Count your blessings. This is not the sort of thing
|
|
that will happen to you twice in your confused programmerly
|
|
lifetime."
|
|
|
|
"I do frequently count my blessings for that."
|
|
Andrew.BAS slid his glasses to the top of his nose and
|
|
smiled coyly.
|
|
|
|
"Now, hand over the quarters!" S-max squawked,
|
|
extending his palm.
|
|
|
|
He stared at the pajamaed computer builder and the
|
|
rabbit ear antenna with an astonished stupor, half bemused,
|
|
wondering for a moment if their neighborhood was zoned for
|
|
this sort of thing. Finally he shrugged his wispy shoulders
|
|
and said, "Sorry, all I have is nickels." With that, he
|
|
turned and quickly tread the steps back to his attic
|
|
programming loft, resolving to wait until later in the day,
|
|
when S-max was safely asleep on his R and D couch, to
|
|
retrieve his computer.
|
|
|
|
He could hear the incensed computer builder yelling
|
|
after him, "You'll be sorry, Andrew.BAS! You'll regret
|
|
this! Twenty years from now when someone asks you to
|
|
explain how you were involved in the historic birth of the
|
|
coin-operated computer operating system, you will be forced
|
|
to admit 'I forgot to bring the correct change.' And how do
|
|
you think <<that>> will sound, Andrew.BAS?"
|
|
|
|
Infinitely better than if he <<did>> have the correct
|
|
change, Andrew.BAS smiled to himself. Vastly better indeed.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
<Finis>
|
|
|
|
>>In the next installment of The Adventures of Lone Wolf
|
|
Scientific--"What Is a Computer Operating System?"--S-max
|
|
puts the finishing touches on his seminal Coin-Operated
|
|
Computer Operating System. He reflects on the role of the
|
|
computer operating system in modern society--and how it is
|
|
about to be changed forever by the wirey contraption with
|
|
the rabbit-ear antenna on his desk.<<
|
|
|
|
[Apologies for the delay in this episode. I was putting the
|
|
final touches on "The Adventures of Lone Wolf Scientific"
|
|
the novel--look for it in your bookstores soon!]
|
|
|
|
|