-------------------------------------------- "THE ADVENTURES OF LONE WOLF SCIENTIFIC" ----------------------------------------- "The Adventures of Lone Wolf Scientific" is an electronically syndicated series that follows the exploits of two madcap mavens of high-technology. Copyright 1991, 1992 Michy Peshota. May not be distributed without accompany WELCOME.LWS and EPISOD.LWS files. ------------------------------------------- EPISODE #19 (posted 1.5.92) ---------------- Engineering the Future of American Technology >>With the office furniture arranged and the sticky issue resolved of who will serve as vice president of R and D on Monday mornings, the founders of Lone Wolf Scientific set out to design the very future of American technology.<< by M. Peshota "Away, away Luke Skyprogrammer!" the computer builder cried, bounding over the couch. "You are trespassing on the hallowed R and D couch of Darth S-max!" "Your days on the R and D couch are numbered, Darth!" The programmer bounced menacingly on the sofa's overstuffed cushions, the Halloween costume space suit that upholstered his lithe form making him look like a boy that ran off to join a toxic waste cleanup crew. "I have come to transform all your kooky homebrew inventions into tightly written Pascal code, just try to stop me!" "Ha! That's what you think, Luke Skyprogrammer!" S- max leaped over the arm of the couch, swinging the flashlight that served as his light saber in a wide arc. A markered paper sign that read "DARTH" bounced over the infinity sign on his t-shirted chest. A space-belt fashioned of foil and computer cable was wrapped around his sagging middle, together with a half dozen tool belts. Andrew.BAS swung his own flashlight-light-saber. "You haven't a hope, Darth S-max!" he hissed from behind his green plastic visor. "I am on a mission to save the universe from your rewired wash machines, and that's why The Force is with me!" "No, it's not. It's with me!" "Don't delude yourself, Darth. It is a well-known fact that The Force bears a strong preference for classy C code and anyone who dresses like Donald Knuth. The Force even owns its own program compiler." "The Force would never own its own program compiler!" S-max blustered. "The Force would never hang around with a mere computer programmer! That's absurd. It sticks around sophisticated hardware guys like me. And don't call my computer inventions rewired wash machines! They are brilliant!" The programmer lunged at him with his flashlight. As his sputtering partner jumped aside, he lost his footing and tumbled over the back of the couch. He hit the floor with a loud "clunk" of clattering tools. Andrew.BAS clicked off his flashlight victoriously. Through the glinting plastic of his moon helmet, he peered over the back of the couch at the crumpled mess of man and screwdriver on the floor. "May The Force be with you, Darth Hardware-Hack," he said sadly. It was the second week of intensive research and development at Lone Wolf Scientific Inc. The first had passed in a hectic blur of all-night sessions at a nearby video game arcade. Once the two reluctant business partners had finally agreed on who would get which drawer in the two- drawer file cabinet (the overbearing S-max eventually got them both by threatening to solder shut the drawer holding his partner's papers, so the ever-diplomatic programmer agreed to store his things in an old cardboard box under the bed instead), and S-max had pried off the weather-beaten fraternity letters that dangled from the front of the house and nailed in their place the sign that proclaimed "Lone Wolf Scientific Inc. -- Sometimes the magic works, sometimes it doesn't" and which bore a picture of a computer with lemons on its screen that still looked suspiciously like a slot machine, the two brave men set out to do nothing less than to design the very future of American high-technology. The morning after S-max and Andrew.BAS had frittered away the entire day playing spaceman on the R and D couch, they were sitting in front of their respective computers in the livingroom, staring into space, ostensibly conceptualizing the future of American technology, when S- max suggested, "Since the future of American high-technology has already been delayed by two weeks, it couldn't hurt to delay it another day." "That's what I was thinking," Andrew.BAS said, whose face was a pale, vacant slate. "At some high-tech companies, the future of American technology gets delayed by months and months if everyone has a lot of meetings to go to." S-max picked a section of the day's newspaper off the floor. He unfolded it over his ablated keyboard. "I hear the local cinema shows many educational films in the afternoon." "I've heard that too." "And for half price!" "I think we'd be fools if we didn't take advantage of that." And so the inventors of the future of American technology scrambled out from behind their computers and headed to the movie theatre. After they had sat through three showings of "Terminator 2" (they nearly sat through a fourth simply by arguing over whether or not they should sit through a fourth, but an annoyed usher led them out), they headed home to continue designing the future of American technology. Unfortunately, by the time they arrived home (it took them a while to get home because they stopped twice for tacos and once for ice-cream), the day was late--so late in fact that it was time to sit down and relax and watch videotapes of old "Star Trek" episodes. So there was no time left that day to invent the future of American technology. The next day, when S-max and Andrew.BAS sat down in front of their computers to design the future of technology, ten minutes of dull silence passed and then the computer builder suggested, "You know, it couldn't hurt to go to the mall and spend a little time at snarfing through the sale bins at Radio Shack before designing the future of American technology. It will clear our heads, and who knows, we might even find some of those little pocket poker games that we may eventually want to incorporate in our engineering schematics of the future of American technology." That sounded perfectly plausible to Andrew.BAS so he and S-max promptly got up and headed to the mall. What neither of them realized, though, was that time travels faster in a Radio Shack than it does when you're sitting in front of your computer, trying to dream up the future of technology. Before they knew it the day was over. "I think we had better go home," Andrew.BAS said, pulling his partner by the sleeve, trying to dislodge the King Kong-sized computer dweeb from a parts rack. "But Andrew.BAS!" he wailed. "I still haven't examined this rack of electrolytic capacitors. And who knows, if I don't, the future of American technology may be tragically short on electrolytic capacitors." By the time they returned home it was late, so late that it was time to relax on the R and D couch and watch videotapes of old "Star Trek" episodes, so there was no time left that day to design the future of American technology. The next day the founders of Lone Wolf Scientific decided to barbecue in the backyard. To be efficient, they planned to begin designing the future of American high- technology while flipping burgers. Unfortunately, they never got as far as flipping burgers. While S-max was still grilling hotdogs, a stray dog wandered into the yard. It was an especially obnoxious poodle that looked like it had fled a previous owner while having its fur pruned to resemble a mausoleum lawn sculpture. "Yip-yap!" it cried, upon spotting the computer builder, who also looked like he had fled a previous owner while having his hair pruned to resemble a mausoleum lawn sculpture. S-max discovered in the exasperating, dirty, matted creature a soul-mate. He fed it one hotdog after another. "I don't know if you've noticed," he said to Andrew.BAS, tossing the dog another weiner, "but this intelligent creature responds to the name '8087'." "You mean like in 8087 the Intel math coprocessor chip?" "That is correct. Not 80286, the computer processor, or 80386, or even 80486, mind you, but the Intel 8087." He grunted proudly. "He doesn't respond to the names of any Motorola chips?" "Apparently not." He tossed a cookie at him at the cottonball-tailed dog. "I even tried on him the names of several Japanese chips, but I couldn't get so much as a tail twitch from him. Overall I'd say he has remarkably good taste in computer chips for a stray poodle. I think we should make him our mascot--8087-The Poodle, Mascot of the Future of American Technology." By the time S-max and Andrew.BAS had finished playing with 8087-The Poodle, and feeding the mascot of the future of American technology hotdogs and cookies, it was dark--so dark it was time to go in the house and watch "Star Trek," so there was no time left that day either to engineer the future of American technology. There wasn't any time the next day either because they had to take 8087-The Poodle to the vet for rabies and heartworm shots. After that they went to the pet store to buy him a leash, dog toys, and dog bed. Then they spent another two hours in the grocery store picking out nutritionally balanced dog food. When they returned home, they were greeted by their scowling neighbor Wilma who informed them that the mascot of the future of technology had torn up her garden while they were out buying him a dog leash, so they spent the rest of the afternoon replanting begonias. Curiously, the irony of having a stray poodle as a mascot for a company named "Lone Wolf Scientific" occurred to neither, although S-max did at one point note, as they were jamming begonias back into the dirt, "From the moment I laid eyes on him I knew the spirit of a wolf lurked inside 8087's wee skunk-sized body," and the curly-haired dog leaped and yapped in joyous agreement. Not surprisingly, by the time the founders of Lone Wolf Scientific and their new mascot finally straggled into the house, it was time to relax on the R and D couch and watch "Star Trek," so there was no time left that day to invent the future of American technology. The next day, 8087-The Poodle chewed up S-max's R and D couch, so it was impossible to engineer the future of American technology that day either. The day after that, the two technological visionaries decided to stop fooling around and sit down at their computers and design the future of high-technology. Somehow, though, by mid-morning, they and 8087-The Poodle found themselves wandering through a computer flea market. There, the inscrutable S-max bought two dozen dented, antediluvian, obsolete 24-inch computer disk drives. When Andrew.BAS politely inquired how these would fit into their plans for the future of American technology and what exactly S-max intended to do with them, the computer builder flew into a rage. "Do? What do you mean <> with them?" he roared. "You know--<>," said Andrew.BAS. "What are you going to build with broken computer drives?" "<>" S-max's black-browed face crinkled into a troglodytic scowl of confusion. "Must one <> something with every piece of technology that one buys? Must one have plans for each and every hunk of broken computery stuff that one lugs home with them? Must one be expected to buy only things which will work and which can be used for well-defined practical purposes? Is this one of your prerequisites for making high-tech purchases? Is this what they teach you at software school? Is this the way that you look at life, Andrew.BAS? If so, I am deeply shocked and I can see already that our high-tech venture is headed for troubled times if you persist in this delusion of yours that every single item of expensive high-tech merchandise that one drags home must serve a distinct and valuable purpose." He grunted angrily. By the time they had dragged home all two dozen broken computer drives, it was time to relax on the tattered R and D couch and watch "Star Trek," so there was no time left that day either to begin the future of American technology. The next day, the increasingly cash-poor owners of Lone Wolf Scientific Inc. decided to stop avoiding the inevidable and sit down and plan the future of American high- technology. The computer builder sprawled across the ratty remains of his dog-chewed research couch, grunting, sighing, and rubbing his brow, while the programmer and their mascot poodle paced the livingroom floor in thought. Within the hour, S-max was watching a soap opera on TV and grazing from a box of breakfast cereal. Andrew.BAS was pretzeled in a yoga position on the floor beneath the office calendar with the picture of the giant staple gun, reading a sci-fi novel with a lot of big space guns painted on the cover. 8087-The Poodle was asleep on top a pile of overdue utility bills, and glow-in-the dark company keychains, snoring in a faint, wheezing poodle fashion. When S-max pointed questioningly to the paperback novel in his partner's hands, the programmer responded matter-of- factly, "I get some of my best ideas about the future of American high-technology from sci-fi novels." That sounded perfectly plausible to the computer builder who would have gotten many of his own ideas about the glorious technological future from sci-fi novels if only he could follow the plots better, but not to be outdone he bragged, "I know of an even better place." Andrew.BAS looked up, curious. "Yeah, sure." He plunged an enormous fist inside the cereal box he was clenching. He fished around inside it. "Inside cereal boxes." "Cereal boxes?" "Yeah, sure. Try Cap'n Goodness or Tony the Tree Thug. That's where I get all my very best ideas for the future of American computery stuff." Shoving a handful of purple- specked cereal into his cavernous mouth, he smirked. "Just look for the cellophane packages and the special offers on the back of the box. Sometimes you can even find little helicopters and nuclear goodies inside." The fourth week of R and D arrived at Lone Wolf Scientific Inc. and the once carefree computer entrepreneurs found themselves without heat, water, phone, or electricity. Wilma had also reposessed their company sign because they still hadn't paid the remaining $12 balance on it. When Andrew.BAS demanded of the capricious S-max what he done with the money he given him to pay the phone bill, the computer builder, sprawled across his R and D couch, engrossed in playing with his walkie-talkie and chomping Tony the Tree Thug cereal, sighed, "I don't know if you are aware of this, Andrew.BAS, but they are making great strides almost daily in the ever-burgeoning science of kerosene- powered computers. If you like, I can whip one up for you." Andrew.BAS frowned. His normally stoic face tightened with annoyance. "In fact, if you'd prefer," said the computer builder, "I'll make it a hybrid of kerosene and solar power--kerosene power for the video monitor and add-on cards, solar power for the clock/calendar and disk drives. That way, when you and your programmer buddies are busy compiling, you don't have to worry about someone getting frisky with the threaded interpreter and tipping over the bottle of kerosene. On the other hand, maybe you'd prefer a cold fission powered PC--" "What did you do with that money, S-max?" "I hear that disk caching is really wild on a fission powered PC." "S-max!" His blowsy partner grunted. "I bought some new batteries for my walkie-talkie and a Hostess Twinkie." "Oh, S-max!" he moaned. "Where are your priorities?" "With the future of American computery stuff, where they've always been." He sighed loudly like a wrongly accused child and examined a miniature purple hand grenade that he'd pulled from the cereal box. By the seventh week of intensive research and development, Lone Wolf Scientific was still no closer to the future of American high-technology, despite the fact that Andrew.BAS had re-read his entire collection of 523 sci-fi novels and dozens of empty, discarded cereal boxes ringed the floor around S-max's research couch like the ruins of a massacred Sugar Pop City. 8087-The Poodle was also showing signs of stress. He no longer cared to chew up company stationary or bury bones and mutilated company keychains in the eviscerated cushions of the research couch. He padded among the empty computer boxes almost daily and whimpered. "Isn't it amazing how exhausting it is just thinking about designing the future of technology?" S-max marvelled one day, fishing through yet another cereal box for a toy grenade. "Think how hard things are going to get when we actually have to try to make the future of American technology work according to the description on the box." Sadly, his similarly idea-bereft, exhausted partner couldn't help but agree. >>>>In the next episode of The Adventures of Lone Wolf Scientific, computer genius S-max has a midnight brainstorm.<<<<<