- By a bat
Frequently Whispered Questions
That we hear because we are a bats
1. Why is this by a bat?
Because only bats can have a bat's eye view. If you buy a book titled a bird's eye view of management, you expect it to be written by a bird, not say, a crocodile.
2. Why would a bat want to estimate?
Bats don’t estimate, we calculate. When we estimate, we run into walls, fly around in circles and generally give ourselves a headache. This book is for people who want to do that (run into walls, fly around in circles, and give themselves a headache).
3. Why would a bat write a book on estimation?
Because every time something was off schedule, off budget or off side they blamed it on a bat estimate.
Editor's note : it has been pointed out by an anonymous pointer that these people were actually saying bad estimate, which is why you have mice recipes after Chapter I)
I. Introduction
Audience
Assorted applauding bats, and other people who cheer.
II. Mice Recipes
A. Slow Grilled Mouse in 5 minutes
Ingredients
- 1 slow mouse
- 1 fired grill
Steps
1. Cook slow mouse on grill for 5 minutes
2. Serve
B. Chocolate Mouse
Ingredients
- 1 mouse
- Lots of chocolate
Steps
1. Feed chocolate to mouse
2. Repeat step 1 for 3 months. Rinse mouse occasionally
3. Serve
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Thursday, August 05, 2010
25 Years of Lava Experience
All the coffee filters were little origami paper cranes on the window sill. They had wings now but they were bad at filtering coffee.
So Peter Tinn went through the advertisement again while he waited for the freshly ground coffee in his mug to settle. It still said 25 years of Lava experience, so he tried the number at the bottom. It rang once and a number of clicks sounded in quick succession.
"Welcome to Sensible Computing. Para Ingles, press 1, for Spanish press 2."
Peter pressed 1. There was the sound of a stapler at the other end of the line followed by a small "Ouch."
"Hello, did you press something?"
"Yes, I pressed 1. This is not an automated response system?"
"No sir. Would you like to speak with an automated customer service representative? They just went to have their oil changed but I'm sure there'll be one available shortly."
"No, if it's all the same I'd rather talk to a person."
"Perfect sir. But I'll have you know that according to the 39th Amendment it's illegal to discriminate based on physiology. So, what can I help you with today?"
"Are you the person I should be talking to about the advertisement in today's paper?"
"No, but I know people you can talk to about that. You'll hear some clicks now. Please do not be alarmed."
Three clicks sounded. A very hesitant beep followed them over the line.
"Hi! I'm Sandy. Should I call you John, Smith or Custard?"
"Pete, you can call me Pete."
"Hello Mr. Pete. I'll have you know that we're recording this call for the folks over at Quality. It'll be erased as soon as this call is over, so if you want a copy, make sure you press 1 at the end to leave a mailing address. Sensible Computing is committed to maintaining the privacy of its callers and its employees."
"Er... ok. That's a bit uh... weird."
"Thank you Mr. Pete. We were on the Zorbe's list of the top 100 weirdest companies last year."
"Uh... ok. So... it's about your ad in the paper this morning."
"And you're calling from?"
"Shilling, Old York."
"I see Mr. Pete. And what day is it there?"
"Day? Sunday, August first... 2010."
"Ah yes, 25 years of Lava experience?"
"No, 5 years. But there's no way anyone could have 25 years of Lava experience now. Lava 1.0 was released in 2002."
"You are right, Mr. Pete. But would you be interested in working for a Lava project in 2040? I'm sure you'll have more than our required minimum if you keep at it."
"Yeah, but.. wait... what!? 2040?"
"Hold on a minute Mr. Pete. I think it will be better if I transfer you to the amazing extension of our incredible workforce manager. You'll hear some clicks now. Please do not be alarmed."
A click sounded and Pete started getting alarmed. There was something eminently alarmable about the way this call was going. Another click sounded and there was a hiss at the other end of the line; the hairs at the back of his neck thought very seriously about standing up.
"Can I call you Misssterrr Ssscotttt?"
"I think it would be better if you call me Pete. Why are you talking like a snake?"
"It's talk-like-a-snake day today. I can get a real one on the line if you want. They just went out to shed their skins. But I'll have you know that discrimination based on physiology.... "
"...violates the 39th Amendment. I know that uh... what do I call you?"
"Oh yes. I know this one! I know this one! Don't hang up Mr. Pete. All our customer service representatives are shedding their skins or checking the manual. And also, your call is important to us... except when there is a fire drill."
There was the sound of rapid typing, drawers being pulled open and a chair being pushed back.
"Mr. Pete! Mr. Pete! I seem to have left my manual at home. I'll go get a spare one from our office downstairs. I'll put on some music. At Sensible Computing our customers always come first and some of our employees are very good cheerleaders."
Beethoven's Ninth started playing. There was the sound of footsteps and the phone was picked up again.
"Hello Mr. Pete. Are you still there?"
"Yes."
"Ok. I was just checking. Sometimes people drop off and I don't have to go all the way down. Obviously you're not one of them."
The music built to a crescendo as the sound of footsteps receded. Pete eyed the origami cranes guarding the window. Elephants. That's what he should have done with the advertisement. An origami elephant wouldn't have gone down to get a spare manual from the office. In fact, they'd have kept the cranes company. Didn't cranes clean elephant tusks or something? No, that was crocodiles. Crocodiles cleaned elephant tusks.
"Mr. Pete! Mr. Pete! I found it! Wait... yes. Here it is. The appropriate response in this situation is - you can call me what you want."
"Jane maybe? Would that be fine?"
"I guess."
The voice sounded a little downcast.
"Would you like me to call you something else?"
"Well... Cinderella would be nice."
"Cinderella?"
"Yeah, like in the story. She was this..."
"Yeah ok. I know the story. I'll call you Cinderella then. So... uh. I read your ad, the one with the 25 years of Lava experience in today's paper... August 1st 2010 and then I got Sandy who said something about this starting only in 2040 and then I got transferred here... so here I am. And now I have no idea what any of this is about."
"That's easy Mr. Pete. We're looking to outsource some of our work to an offtime resource. There's this project that's due next month and our janitor figured out it's 2 months behind schedule. We can get back on track if you join us a year back. So send us your resume and I'll run it through the system. It's recruiting@sensiblecomputing.net."
"This is all a little... I just sent my resume. But this is some joke, right? Or is this part of your screening process?"
"Great Mr. Pete. I just got it and the system says you'll be perfect. See you in 2039 then! You have a nice day and if you have any trouble just check if the power cable is plugged in."
The line clicked two times and went dead. Pete tried the number again but the phone company informed him in morse that that number no longer existed. He checked the coffee sludge at the bottom of the mug. It looked like coffee. Maybe it was some sort of caffeine overdose then.
29 years later
The phone picked up the mail and rolled back into the living room. It shredded the fliers, filed away some coupons and dropped the rest of the mail on the coffee table. Then it rang. It thought for a while and let the voicemessenger take it.
"Hello, this is Sandy from Sensible Computing. Please do not be alarmed. I'm calling for Mr. Peter Tinn."
"Mr. Peter Tinn is on vacation right now. If this is from Sensible Computing, Mr. Peter Tinn told to let you know that he's not taking any new Lava projects right now. Tinn's Origami is still taking orders though. For origami elephants please press..."
"Do they know Lava?"
"I'm sure they don't but you could try teaching them."
"Great, I'll take five of the elephants then."
Notes
All companies and languages above are fictional. Please don’t bother applying for Lava opportunities at Sensible Computing this week. Any resemblance to an actual company, language or job opportunity is mostly prophetic and vaguely unintentional.
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
A Love Story in 1200 dpi
Right in front of the elevator, on the third floor of the Sensible Computing building was a well lit cubicle. Five fluorescent lights smiled brightly and made an effort to cover up for a flickering friend. The printer watched a carpet strip in the corner tend to a dripping water cooler. It was a soggy mess. Why did good carpets always end up with coolers like that?
It spat out a couple of timesheets, and then a blank page to get rid of the taste. Refilled ink was terrible. The human from the other side of the office came and picked up the timesheets. The old printer was probably jammed again. It got to you eventually - all those refilled cartridges, the paper jams, even spilled coffee, if you were really unlucky.
The printer printed a test page before it set itself to standby. Never hurt to keep those print heads clean. Besides, no one noticed a test page now and then. It checked the VOIP lines again. They were still down. It hummed sympathetically at the phone and wondered what it felt like to die every hour. Good thing they didn't have to warm up when they were revived.
The elevator dinged and the human stepped out. The printer had a lot of respect for this human. It seemed genuinely concerned about everything in the cubicle. It came in every day, week after week, and spent hours walking the little pet mouse on the desk or trying to revive the phone when the lines were down.
The printer held a paper guide tensely as the human performed its first trick of the day. It got up from under the desk and drummed a little tune on the keyboard. The computer flickered and came alive. The printer had almost printed a test page in surprise the first day this happened. It had talked with the computer that day, and two times after that. It was beautiful, all those flickering lights, all those colors. The printer sighed and checked its paper tray.
The human picked up the phone and swore. It drummed a little tune on the keyboard and waited. The VOIP lines came back up after an hour. The printer made a note to talk to the keyboard about the drumming. It seemed a useful skill to have. It adjusted another guide and thought about running a flush cycle. It would be noisy, best to wait till everyone was gone.
The human poked the phone and uttered some incantations.
"Hello, is this extension 4578?... Oh yes, I'm calling from Sensible Computing..."
Sometimes the human would end the incantations with "Call me back at 7856" and the phone would ring after some time. The printer had spent a lot of time talking to the phone about this. It had stopped after it realized that the phone had no idea how the trick worked.
The human got out a plastic box and started poking at the green paper inside with a spear. It did this most days around the same time. The human from the other side of the office came over and started talking.
"Did you hear about the new models they're giving out?"
"I thought they wouldn't be in until after Christmas."
"They're already in. That's why I came over. I just sent our names for the first batch. Yaay me!"
The printer warmed up and listened. The humans seemed very excited. Maybe they were going to preheat the paper like they did last winter. It felt sorry for the sheets sometimes, especially the ones that got stuck. Preheating was good - they would get stuck less often.
The printer was checking its ink levels when the elevator dinged. Three humans came out, pushing a trolley with a big box. They entered the cubicle and talked to the human. The human looked at its watch and took the elevator down.
One of the humans in the cubicle went under the table and the monitor went blank. The printer turned up its display brightness and waited. That wasn't supposed to happen until later on in the day. As the printer watched the humans unplugged the computer. They weren't supposed to do that for sure. It had to alert the human. Maybe the phone could help. The human always came running when it rang.
The VOIP lines were down again. Maybe a flush cycle - someone always came when that happened. It started one and waited. A couple of test pages came out. The colored pages started after that. The contrast pages would follow. A human separated from the pack and walked over to the printer. It reached under the desk and everything went blank.
When the printer came up again the old computer was gone. In its place was a shiny new one, with a thinner monitor. The printer spat out blank pages in frustration. Where was the human? It heard footsteps and the human stepped into the cubicle. The printer waited for the it to do a trick and bring the old computer back. But it just shrieked and drummed the new keyboard happily. The printer choked back a page and went into standby. How could it!
The new computer was saying something. It sounded like gibberish. The printer printed out a page with whatever made sense and waited. The human poked the phone.
"Marsha, there's something wrong with the printer. Could you come over and take a look?"
It contemplated spilled coffee. One of the keyboards in maintenance had said that it was very sticky. But anything would be better than this. The elevator dinged and one of the evil humans came out. It took a look at the printed page and reached under the desk.
"The new systems don't work with most of the printers we have right now. I'll take this down and bring up a new model."
Everything went blank again.
When the printer warmed up again it was no longer in the old cubicle. There were two humans talking in the corner.
"I just sent a page. Is it warmed up?"
The printer checked its queue. There was one page to print. It finished the print and slid out a page into the out tray. One of the humans stepped away from the computer and the printer did a double take. It checked its configuration to make sure it wasn't faxing. It was the old computer!
It spat out a couple of timesheets, and then a blank page to get rid of the taste. Refilled ink was terrible. The human from the other side of the office came and picked up the timesheets. The old printer was probably jammed again. It got to you eventually - all those refilled cartridges, the paper jams, even spilled coffee, if you were really unlucky.
The printer printed a test page before it set itself to standby. Never hurt to keep those print heads clean. Besides, no one noticed a test page now and then. It checked the VOIP lines again. They were still down. It hummed sympathetically at the phone and wondered what it felt like to die every hour. Good thing they didn't have to warm up when they were revived.
The elevator dinged and the human stepped out. The printer had a lot of respect for this human. It seemed genuinely concerned about everything in the cubicle. It came in every day, week after week, and spent hours walking the little pet mouse on the desk or trying to revive the phone when the lines were down.
The printer held a paper guide tensely as the human performed its first trick of the day. It got up from under the desk and drummed a little tune on the keyboard. The computer flickered and came alive. The printer had almost printed a test page in surprise the first day this happened. It had talked with the computer that day, and two times after that. It was beautiful, all those flickering lights, all those colors. The printer sighed and checked its paper tray.
The human picked up the phone and swore. It drummed a little tune on the keyboard and waited. The VOIP lines came back up after an hour. The printer made a note to talk to the keyboard about the drumming. It seemed a useful skill to have. It adjusted another guide and thought about running a flush cycle. It would be noisy, best to wait till everyone was gone.
The human poked the phone and uttered some incantations.
"Hello, is this extension 4578?... Oh yes, I'm calling from Sensible Computing..."
Sometimes the human would end the incantations with "Call me back at 7856" and the phone would ring after some time. The printer had spent a lot of time talking to the phone about this. It had stopped after it realized that the phone had no idea how the trick worked.
The human got out a plastic box and started poking at the green paper inside with a spear. It did this most days around the same time. The human from the other side of the office came over and started talking.
"Did you hear about the new models they're giving out?"
"I thought they wouldn't be in until after Christmas."
"They're already in. That's why I came over. I just sent our names for the first batch. Yaay me!"
The printer warmed up and listened. The humans seemed very excited. Maybe they were going to preheat the paper like they did last winter. It felt sorry for the sheets sometimes, especially the ones that got stuck. Preheating was good - they would get stuck less often.
The printer was checking its ink levels when the elevator dinged. Three humans came out, pushing a trolley with a big box. They entered the cubicle and talked to the human. The human looked at its watch and took the elevator down.
One of the humans in the cubicle went under the table and the monitor went blank. The printer turned up its display brightness and waited. That wasn't supposed to happen until later on in the day. As the printer watched the humans unplugged the computer. They weren't supposed to do that for sure. It had to alert the human. Maybe the phone could help. The human always came running when it rang.
The VOIP lines were down again. Maybe a flush cycle - someone always came when that happened. It started one and waited. A couple of test pages came out. The colored pages started after that. The contrast pages would follow. A human separated from the pack and walked over to the printer. It reached under the desk and everything went blank.
When the printer came up again the old computer was gone. In its place was a shiny new one, with a thinner monitor. The printer spat out blank pages in frustration. Where was the human? It heard footsteps and the human stepped into the cubicle. The printer waited for the it to do a trick and bring the old computer back. But it just shrieked and drummed the new keyboard happily. The printer choked back a page and went into standby. How could it!
The new computer was saying something. It sounded like gibberish. The printer printed out a page with whatever made sense and waited. The human poked the phone.
"Marsha, there's something wrong with the printer. Could you come over and take a look?"
It contemplated spilled coffee. One of the keyboards in maintenance had said that it was very sticky. But anything would be better than this. The elevator dinged and one of the evil humans came out. It took a look at the printed page and reached under the desk.
"The new systems don't work with most of the printers we have right now. I'll take this down and bring up a new model."
Everything went blank again.
When the printer warmed up again it was no longer in the old cubicle. There were two humans talking in the corner.
"I just sent a page. Is it warmed up?"
The printer checked its queue. There was one page to print. It finished the print and slid out a page into the out tray. One of the humans stepped away from the computer and the printer did a double take. It checked its configuration to make sure it wasn't faxing. It was the old computer!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
A New Birth
"Bloody French."
The lieutenant standing next to me gave me a disapproving look and took a step ahead. I felt the rain start to soak the left side of my jacket. I took another drag and tried to forget what I'd just seen.
"Bloody French."
I muttered again. That drove him off the porch. He walked to the corner, opened a side door and went inside. A truck passed by splashing muddy water over half the porch. I tossed the half finished cigarette into a puddle and stepped out, letting the rain wash away the mud on my loafers. Alexandre stepped out the front door and stopped beside me. The rain didn't seem to bother him. Or maybe it did, but not as much as the stuff out back.
"I assume you have a cigarette, Inspector."
I nodded towards the porch and lit him one. He took a deep one and coughed. We stood watching the streetlights turn on one by one.
"I thought you didn't smoke."
He took a drag and looked up at me. He'd heard what I said, but it hadn't registered. Something in his head had put everything on hold.
"Do you think the Germans will succeed?"
He didn't have to tell me at what. There was only one thing the Germans were working on that anybody would be interested in - immortality, and with it the continuation of our race.
"Most days. But some days I think it wouldn't matter much if they didn't."
"Oui. Today."
I nodded. A neighbour had first alerted the local police. They were both in their seventies, grandparents; very few of them now. The neighbour had seen the wife cover up a hole after digging up a rock in the morning. He'd also seen something else, what looked like a 3 month year old foetus. He'd dismissed it as a trick of the light. But when the husband had come out at noon to dig up the foetus again he'd been a lot closer. He'd called the police immediately.
Mr. Giovanni had been very helpful when the two policemen told him why they were there. He had pointed out the spots in the garden where they were buried. He'd shouted at the first constable who had started to dig up the first with a spade so they'd used their hands after that. Alexandre was called in after they had dug out the third one. They dug up two more in the ten minutes it took us to get here with the lieutenant. I saw two men cry for the first time in twenty years.
"I've asked myself for the last two hours why they would do something like this. I have no answer."
"My wife calls the earth Gaia. She says we are like a virus. That the earth, Gaia, is recovering."
"Your wife is probably right Inspector. Maybe we are, like your wife said, the virus."
"Did Frances call you back?"
"Yes, the nearest research center is seventy kilometers away."
After 2018, birth research centers were the only places you could find foetuses. Unlike most air-borne virus pandemics, the strain-5 pandemic had been quick and painless, and invisible for a long time. Then in 2015, the mutation happened, and gynacoelogists around the world started reporting the complete absence of births.
Governments across the world promised a breakthrough within the year. The year ended without a cure. In early 2017, UN authorized missions to virgin tribes in African and the Nicobar islands found that the mutated strain had reached them long before it reached us. In October 2017, Elena Pavlovna came back to earth after three years on the International Space Station. Her attempts to conceive in space were a failure.
In March 2018, the G-8 and G-15 agreed to an unlimited budget to fund artificial womb research. The virus caused a mother's womb to reject the foetus; artificial wombs promised to be a better surrogate mother. In 2031 the UN cut down this funding to 30 billion GCU annually. Of the five largest institutions still researching artificial wombs in 2032, four had less than a tenth of their research budget allocated to it.
In 2035 the German research company and life service provider, Franz Generics announced stage 2 clinical trials for their Life Extensibility Clinical Program. Liberal news feeds called it a subscription to life, others called it a silver of hope. Birth was a forgotten fairytale.
"Commandant, il veut vous parler."
Alexandre stepped back inside and the lieutenant leaned against the wall. He wiped a damp cuff across his lips. He looked like he'd just finished throwing up. I lit my third one and offered him the pack. His hands were shaking and it took him three tries to get one to light. He drew in a long one and turned to me.
"Bloody French."
I was on my fifth one when Alexandre came back outside. He seemed angry. I saw the old couple at the kitchen table as the door closed behind him.
"He won't say where he got them from. And he wants us to stop digging them up if the rain stops. He says he'll confess to everything if we do that, if we stop digging. I don't know what..."
I handed him the pack of cigarettes and stepped inside. I nodded to the constable standing next to the back door. It was warm and I took my hands out of my jacket. A box of matches dropped to the floor. The couple stopped whispering and old man looked up. His voice was clear, and strong.
"Aucun catridge?"
"Non, ordinaire."
I smoked the old kind, the one that set off smoke detectors. The last officially recorded birth was on February 28th, 2015. Felix Leitner died in a knife fight outside a Detroit gas station in 2030. The youngest person on the planet was killed for a pack of nicotine catridges.
"English?"
I nodded, stepped across the hall to the table and pulled a chair across them. The wife looked down and touched the back of her hand to her eyes. I could see she'd been crying.
"Would you like to talk?"
She nodded and the man patted her hand. I sat down and turned to him.
"Where did they come from? Which hospital?"
The old man took a deep breath.
"They did not come from a hospital. They... they grew."
He made a blooming motion with his fingers. I glanced at the old lady. It couldn't be her.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand. Was someone trying to conceive here?"
"Non non. They grew from the terre.. from the earth."
I started at him stupidly for a moment. He was delusional. Beside him, his wife was looking at me, her eyes searching mine for a glimmer of understanding. They were both delusional. I tried to get up but the old man held my hand. His voice was urgent, almost pleading.
"You have to believe. When the first one came three months ago we thought it was some erreur, or a cruelle joke. Then one came every week, every week for two months. And I watched it every day, the jardin, every day that last month. It was the earth."
I pulled my hand away and stepped back from the table. The constable at the back door started towards us. I knew him from a month or so back; he didn't speak English.
"You don't have to believe us, I'll confess to whatever you want. But them... give them a chance. The sun will kill them. They have to be inside for six more months. This is their... their... "
He faltered as he tried to translate. I knew the word he was looking for.
"...womb."
"Yes, womb. She is their mother."
The old woman took my hand as the constable stepped between us. She spoke one word before the constable gently released her grip.
"Mere Gaia."
The rain had stopped when I stepped out onto the porch. The lieutenant held out the pack. I took one and tried the matches. They were damp. Alexandre held out his cigarette and I lit mine off it.
"Anything?"
"How long before they go to trial?"
"Five, maybe six months."
I let the smoke clear my head before I replied.
Six months later
Franz Generics' Life Extensibility Program failed phase 2 trials. I was on the phone in a run down hotel in London. They'd closed down the runways because of the fog. I had Alexandre on the other end of a bad connection.
"I think... should come down here."
"No flights. The fog is..."
"And while... at it bring..."
I held the phone away as the static crackled.
"You just broke up on me there. What did you want me to bring again?"
"Ten baby bottles."
The lieutenant standing next to me gave me a disapproving look and took a step ahead. I felt the rain start to soak the left side of my jacket. I took another drag and tried to forget what I'd just seen.
"Bloody French."
I muttered again. That drove him off the porch. He walked to the corner, opened a side door and went inside. A truck passed by splashing muddy water over half the porch. I tossed the half finished cigarette into a puddle and stepped out, letting the rain wash away the mud on my loafers. Alexandre stepped out the front door and stopped beside me. The rain didn't seem to bother him. Or maybe it did, but not as much as the stuff out back.
"I assume you have a cigarette, Inspector."
I nodded towards the porch and lit him one. He took a deep one and coughed. We stood watching the streetlights turn on one by one.
"I thought you didn't smoke."
He took a drag and looked up at me. He'd heard what I said, but it hadn't registered. Something in his head had put everything on hold.
"Do you think the Germans will succeed?"
He didn't have to tell me at what. There was only one thing the Germans were working on that anybody would be interested in - immortality, and with it the continuation of our race.
"Most days. But some days I think it wouldn't matter much if they didn't."
"Oui. Today."
I nodded. A neighbour had first alerted the local police. They were both in their seventies, grandparents; very few of them now. The neighbour had seen the wife cover up a hole after digging up a rock in the morning. He'd also seen something else, what looked like a 3 month year old foetus. He'd dismissed it as a trick of the light. But when the husband had come out at noon to dig up the foetus again he'd been a lot closer. He'd called the police immediately.
Mr. Giovanni had been very helpful when the two policemen told him why they were there. He had pointed out the spots in the garden where they were buried. He'd shouted at the first constable who had started to dig up the first with a spade so they'd used their hands after that. Alexandre was called in after they had dug out the third one. They dug up two more in the ten minutes it took us to get here with the lieutenant. I saw two men cry for the first time in twenty years.
"I've asked myself for the last two hours why they would do something like this. I have no answer."
"My wife calls the earth Gaia. She says we are like a virus. That the earth, Gaia, is recovering."
"Your wife is probably right Inspector. Maybe we are, like your wife said, the virus."
"Did Frances call you back?"
"Yes, the nearest research center is seventy kilometers away."
After 2018, birth research centers were the only places you could find foetuses. Unlike most air-borne virus pandemics, the strain-5 pandemic had been quick and painless, and invisible for a long time. Then in 2015, the mutation happened, and gynacoelogists around the world started reporting the complete absence of births.
Governments across the world promised a breakthrough within the year. The year ended without a cure. In early 2017, UN authorized missions to virgin tribes in African and the Nicobar islands found that the mutated strain had reached them long before it reached us. In October 2017, Elena Pavlovna came back to earth after three years on the International Space Station. Her attempts to conceive in space were a failure.
In March 2018, the G-8 and G-15 agreed to an unlimited budget to fund artificial womb research. The virus caused a mother's womb to reject the foetus; artificial wombs promised to be a better surrogate mother. In 2031 the UN cut down this funding to 30 billion GCU annually. Of the five largest institutions still researching artificial wombs in 2032, four had less than a tenth of their research budget allocated to it.
In 2035 the German research company and life service provider, Franz Generics announced stage 2 clinical trials for their Life Extensibility Clinical Program. Liberal news feeds called it a subscription to life, others called it a silver of hope. Birth was a forgotten fairytale.
"Commandant, il veut vous parler."
Alexandre stepped back inside and the lieutenant leaned against the wall. He wiped a damp cuff across his lips. He looked like he'd just finished throwing up. I lit my third one and offered him the pack. His hands were shaking and it took him three tries to get one to light. He drew in a long one and turned to me.
"Bloody French."
I was on my fifth one when Alexandre came back outside. He seemed angry. I saw the old couple at the kitchen table as the door closed behind him.
"He won't say where he got them from. And he wants us to stop digging them up if the rain stops. He says he'll confess to everything if we do that, if we stop digging. I don't know what..."
I handed him the pack of cigarettes and stepped inside. I nodded to the constable standing next to the back door. It was warm and I took my hands out of my jacket. A box of matches dropped to the floor. The couple stopped whispering and old man looked up. His voice was clear, and strong.
"Aucun catridge?"
"Non, ordinaire."
I smoked the old kind, the one that set off smoke detectors. The last officially recorded birth was on February 28th, 2015. Felix Leitner died in a knife fight outside a Detroit gas station in 2030. The youngest person on the planet was killed for a pack of nicotine catridges.
"English?"
I nodded, stepped across the hall to the table and pulled a chair across them. The wife looked down and touched the back of her hand to her eyes. I could see she'd been crying.
"Would you like to talk?"
She nodded and the man patted her hand. I sat down and turned to him.
"Where did they come from? Which hospital?"
The old man took a deep breath.
"They did not come from a hospital. They... they grew."
He made a blooming motion with his fingers. I glanced at the old lady. It couldn't be her.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand. Was someone trying to conceive here?"
"Non non. They grew from the terre.. from the earth."
I started at him stupidly for a moment. He was delusional. Beside him, his wife was looking at me, her eyes searching mine for a glimmer of understanding. They were both delusional. I tried to get up but the old man held my hand. His voice was urgent, almost pleading.
"You have to believe. When the first one came three months ago we thought it was some erreur, or a cruelle joke. Then one came every week, every week for two months. And I watched it every day, the jardin, every day that last month. It was the earth."
I pulled my hand away and stepped back from the table. The constable at the back door started towards us. I knew him from a month or so back; he didn't speak English.
"You don't have to believe us, I'll confess to whatever you want. But them... give them a chance. The sun will kill them. They have to be inside for six more months. This is their... their... "
He faltered as he tried to translate. I knew the word he was looking for.
"...womb."
"Yes, womb. She is their mother."
The old woman took my hand as the constable stepped between us. She spoke one word before the constable gently released her grip.
"Mere Gaia."
The rain had stopped when I stepped out onto the porch. The lieutenant held out the pack. I took one and tried the matches. They were damp. Alexandre held out his cigarette and I lit mine off it.
"Anything?"
"How long before they go to trial?"
"Five, maybe six months."
I let the smoke clear my head before I replied.
Six months later
Franz Generics' Life Extensibility Program failed phase 2 trials. I was on the phone in a run down hotel in London. They'd closed down the runways because of the fog. I had Alexandre on the other end of a bad connection.
"I think... should come down here."
"No flights. The fog is..."
"And while... at it bring..."
I held the phone away as the static crackled.
"You just broke up on me there. What did you want me to bring again?"
"Ten baby bottles."
Friday, July 30, 2010
The Reviews of August
Greetings Noble Associate,
I am sure this letter will find you with good ratings and in high spirits, unless, of course, you had the latest batch of Liquor Chocolates from Manager Argous' desk. I heard that the first ten that did keeled over and died, and were buried after business hours. Rumour has it that some were just asleep, and that a few were dragged kicking and screaming to their graves.
I am aware of your plans for leadership (even the adjustable chairs have ears, my friend). I fault you not since the pay is good and as Cassius always says "Fear ye an associate without aspirations because they are to be you." While I still don't understand what he meant one of my trainees assures me that it is apt in this context.
I write this letter to let you know there is a new teacher in the city. He is Greek, but unlike most Greeks he can be trusted to be discreet. With the right amount of gold that is; that will never change. Please find the details below.
Activity Name: ...........
Start date: ...........
End date: ...........
Facility: ........... ...........
Registration ends on: ........... ...........
ps. I assume you can still work that magic with font size that will allow you to read the above. I still have the microscope that you sent me via inter-office mail. I use it occasionally, to read your letters when I can't find the trainee that you taught the spell to.
Your loyal friend,
Administrator of Training, The Academy
ps. please bury the bearer of this message once he has read the contents to you. You can spare his life if you wish to, but bury him you must. These are dangerous times for an ass without a project.
Notes
I'm getting a lot of emails with "Greetings!" instead of "Hi". Is it Christmas? Or is this what Santa Claus does off-season?
I am sure this letter will find you with good ratings and in high spirits, unless, of course, you had the latest batch of Liquor Chocolates from Manager Argous' desk. I heard that the first ten that did keeled over and died, and were buried after business hours. Rumour has it that some were just asleep, and that a few were dragged kicking and screaming to their graves.
I am aware of your plans for leadership (even the adjustable chairs have ears, my friend). I fault you not since the pay is good and as Cassius always says "Fear ye an associate without aspirations because they are to be you." While I still don't understand what he meant one of my trainees assures me that it is apt in this context.
I write this letter to let you know there is a new teacher in the city. He is Greek, but unlike most Greeks he can be trusted to be discreet. With the right amount of gold that is; that will never change. Please find the details below.
Activity Name: ...........
Start date: ...........
End date: ...........
Facility: ........... ...........
Registration ends on: ........... ...........
ps. I assume you can still work that magic with font size that will allow you to read the above. I still have the microscope that you sent me via inter-office mail. I use it occasionally, to read your letters when I can't find the trainee that you taught the spell to.
Your loyal friend,
Administrator of Training, The Academy
ps. please bury the bearer of this message once he has read the contents to you. You can spare his life if you wish to, but bury him you must. These are dangerous times for an ass without a project.
Notes
I'm getting a lot of emails with "Greetings!" instead of "Hi". Is it Christmas? Or is this what Santa Claus does off-season?
Monday, July 26, 2010
Masters of Bovine Administration
It was a stimulating learning environment. The cow stopped chewing to change cuds. There was a knock on the door and it paused mid-swallow. It wasn't a very easy thing to do; many a cow had choked trying to stop mid-swallow. It could have continued swallowing but a certain intellectual curiosity overrode the lower levels of its Maslow pyramid. Besides, this wasn't going to take much time; after all, it had got where it was by being able to synthesize new knowledge rapidly.
Someone knocked again and the cow resumed chewing. It was committed to learn and excel but it wasn't going to wait around doing nothing till the versatile and stimulating individuals who would contribute actively to the learning process at the other side of the barn door decided to get actively involved in their milieu. So it chewed cud and kept an eye on the door. The door opened slightly and the cow stopped chewing.
It's broad range of personal and professional experiences had taught it that people who are ethically-minded don't step in unannounced, even if the door was unlocked. It scattered the hay at its feet, revealing a panic button. If triggered, it would bring in dogs with strong values and unwavering integrity, led by a rooster who had demonstrated the ability to motivate and orchestrate teams and individuals.
There was a hurried whispering on the other side of the door, and everything was quiet again. The cow usually liked the quiet, it contributed to a rich and stimulating learning environment. But this wasn't the usual quiet. It was more like the calm before the storm, and the cow didn't like storms. Storms made talking difficult and marked for naught it's strong interpersonal skills. It swallowed it's cud and made a mental note to get more cows in the barn before Christmas.
It would be difficult though; most cows preferred to stay out in the meadow instead of coming to the barn to expand their professional horizons. The cow was one of a kind - self-motivated and with solid intellectual ability. It didn't just want to be milked, it wanted to know why. That was a question that drove most cows mad, but maybe it wouldn't have to come to that.
It had been stuck in the barn for two weeks now, with no answer in sight. But it had demonstrated initiative, integrity and strong motivation in academic and professional pursuits, so it knew it had the potential to succeed as a leader in a competitive, global, business environment even if the question remained unanswered.
It inched a hoof towards the panic button. Boards creaked above it. They were on the roof! It pressed the panic button knowing it was too late. It felt their little feet on its hide, smelled the fresh blood staining the hay and heard a soft voice whisper "Beef."
Someone knocked again and the cow resumed chewing. It was committed to learn and excel but it wasn't going to wait around doing nothing till the versatile and stimulating individuals who would contribute actively to the learning process at the other side of the barn door decided to get actively involved in their milieu. So it chewed cud and kept an eye on the door. The door opened slightly and the cow stopped chewing.
It's broad range of personal and professional experiences had taught it that people who are ethically-minded don't step in unannounced, even if the door was unlocked. It scattered the hay at its feet, revealing a panic button. If triggered, it would bring in dogs with strong values and unwavering integrity, led by a rooster who had demonstrated the ability to motivate and orchestrate teams and individuals.
There was a hurried whispering on the other side of the door, and everything was quiet again. The cow usually liked the quiet, it contributed to a rich and stimulating learning environment. But this wasn't the usual quiet. It was more like the calm before the storm, and the cow didn't like storms. Storms made talking difficult and marked for naught it's strong interpersonal skills. It swallowed it's cud and made a mental note to get more cows in the barn before Christmas.
It would be difficult though; most cows preferred to stay out in the meadow instead of coming to the barn to expand their professional horizons. The cow was one of a kind - self-motivated and with solid intellectual ability. It didn't just want to be milked, it wanted to know why. That was a question that drove most cows mad, but maybe it wouldn't have to come to that.
It had been stuck in the barn for two weeks now, with no answer in sight. But it had demonstrated initiative, integrity and strong motivation in academic and professional pursuits, so it knew it had the potential to succeed as a leader in a competitive, global, business environment even if the question remained unanswered.
It inched a hoof towards the panic button. Boards creaked above it. They were on the roof! It pressed the panic button knowing it was too late. It felt their little feet on its hide, smelled the fresh blood staining the hay and heard a soft voice whisper "Beef."
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
I've Decided to be a Movie Goer
In the beginning there was the screen. The hall was without seats, and blankness was on the face of the screen. Footsteps echoed in the hallways. The Ticket Collector said "Switch off your cell phones please."; and the lights were dimmed. And the Ticket Collector saw that it was good and bought distribution rights. The show was run, but there were no tickets sold, matinee.
The Ticket Collector said, "Let there be arm rests in the hall and let it separate seat from seat"; and it was so. The Ticket Collector sold tickets for the seats. And the Ticket Collector saw that it was good and said "Let there be popcorn stalls and overpriced soda"; and it was so. And the Ticket Collector saw that the popcorn was bland, so he said "Let there be butter." and it was yellow. The show was run, but the hall was empty, first show.
The Ticket collector said "Let the parking lot bring forth people of all kinds." And it was so. And the Ticket Collector gave them stubs, saying "Right side, third door. And fill the halls and tell your friends, but bring no fruits." And the Ticket Collector saw that the hall was full so he said "Let there be a sign"; and a "Sorry, House full" sign was so, second show.
The Ticket Collector said "Let us start the movie after the trailers; and let the people eat their popcorn and drink their soda." and the movie started.
- From the First Book About The Movie
Notes
Be right back. There's a red dude with horns and a pitchfork at the door.
The Ticket Collector said, "Let there be arm rests in the hall and let it separate seat from seat"; and it was so. The Ticket Collector sold tickets for the seats. And the Ticket Collector saw that it was good and said "Let there be popcorn stalls and overpriced soda"; and it was so. And the Ticket Collector saw that the popcorn was bland, so he said "Let there be butter." and it was yellow. The show was run, but the hall was empty, first show.
The Ticket collector said "Let the parking lot bring forth people of all kinds." And it was so. And the Ticket Collector gave them stubs, saying "Right side, third door. And fill the halls and tell your friends, but bring no fruits." And the Ticket Collector saw that the hall was full so he said "Let there be a sign"; and a "Sorry, House full" sign was so, second show.
The Ticket Collector said "Let us start the movie after the trailers; and let the people eat their popcorn and drink their soda." and the movie started.
- From the First Book About The Movie
Notes
Be right back. There's a red dude with horns and a pitchfork at the door.
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