smithwik@pioneer.arc.nasa.gov (R. Michael Smithwick -- FSN) (07/04/90)
["Intuition is the only one-word oxymoron I know of", Peter Cherna
upon winning the Boing award]
After months of tedious R&D, days of gut wrenching beta testing,
I am ready to finally announce the official release of AmigaTrek 4.2.
[wait for cheers to die down]
Sorry guys for the real long delay, I know I promised this about 3
months ago, but I decided to hold on to it for the traditional
DevCon AmigaTrek reading.
So, at long last, I present . . .
A M I G A T R E K 4.2
----------------------------
And now, for your listening pleasure, we are proud to present :
Amiga Trek 4.2. Sanitized for your protection.
WARNING : The Surgeon General has determined that AmigaTrek may
cause your sides to split.
-------------------------------------------------------------
"Captains log, BoingDate 2-4-6-8. Here we are, in RoboCity.
Facing the one claiming to be the GURU. And here I am, wondering
why the others always put up with me filling out these damn logs
while delaying the most important moments of our adventures. . ."
"Enough of the log captain" said Jay, "I would like to introduce
you to the GURU."
"Is this some kind of joke or something?" sneered Dale.
"I assure you captain, it is not a 'joke'" said Jay.
"Bow-wow" said the GURU.
"But a dog? We came halfway across the galaxian, missing
hundreds of 'Geraldo' shows to meet a DOG?"
"Hey, it's better than what some other computer companies have,
heh, heh, 'Moof', 'Moof'. if you get my drift".
"Yipe yipe" said the GURU.
Jay translated, "She says that you may stay here as long as you
wish boys. By the way, the drinks are on her".
The guys looked at each other. "Well, maybe a dog's not so bad
after all".
"Well gentlemen. I think the GURU needs a little walk right now.
So do you have any questions she may answer first?"
The Baron leaned out from behind a curtain. "Uh, hi guys. Uh, if
you don't mind, I just have one, and only one question for the
GURU if I may."
"Sure, go ahead".
"Well oh great GURU. I came from a long way away, from, uh, out
there somewhere, to you, the great fount of all wisdom and good
to find out one thing. And when done, I may die a happy man. And
the question is, Just who the hell did kill Laura Palmer anyway.
Huh? Like, I mean, after 476 seasons of Twin Geeks, you'd think
that they'd get around to solving this thing by now."
"Yipe, yipe, bark, woof!" The GURU replied with confidence.
"She says that it was probably the One-Eyed Lesbian Dwarf Windows
3.0 programmer."
"Of course!" exclaimed the Baron, slapping himself on the head.
"How could I not see it. Hey, wait a minute, now you've ruined
the whole series for me! Why you little. . .".
Jay raise his hand and quieted the Baron. "Gentleman, we must be
on our way".
A bevy of beautiful women, surrounded the crew [admittedly
sexist moment, here, but so what?]. These the RoboCity Robettes,
dispatched to take them to their quarters.
Jimm was admiring the form-factor of one of his escorts.
"Hey Babe", he said, "wanna see my base address?"
"Jimm!" shouted Dale, "why is it that all you can ever think
about is hex."
--------------------------------------
chapter 2
The following morning after a good nights sleep, and with their
screens refreshed and AmigaVision cleared, the crew said
farewells to their hosts: the GURU, Jay and the RoboBabes. . .
They stopped off first to get a late breakfast at the Foo Bar and
Grill, and took in a few sights of the City.
A major revitalization effort was clearly underway. Over on the
northern side of the main plaza the avenues were being widened to
be full 32 bit pathways. New construction was everywhere. One
project had s sign in front saying "coming soon! 8 bit colors!".
Nearby was another project. But unlike most of the others (save
for the Headly Building), this was much delayed and only half-
finished being built by the Lowell Consruction Company. With so
much to do, there were surprisingly few workmen available on this
one.
Many of the existing buildings were undergoing major facelifts,
and still others had been completely torn down, replaced with all
new and much snazzier versions. Clearly it was exciting times to
be in. Even the Robocity Newsletter was getting into the act,
heralding the arrival of a new Baby.
There were many elements of the city that seemed quit ordinary.
On the light posts for instance was a wanted poster. It was
tattered on the corners, betraying the length of time it had been
displayed. It simply said "Wanted : The Toaster".
Even a whole new fleet of StarChips were being assembled,
sleeker, faster, and without that annoying flicker. The crew
drooled, wondering if they might be able to get one for the
developer's discount.
And everywhere people were so happy and joyous. There was even an
transplendent quality to the air. Not like MacWorld where former
hackers struggled against the tie-things they now had to wear. Or
BigBlueVille inhabited by a single race of pale humorless clones
with a dazed sleepy look in their eyes. Here in Robocity, there
were individuals. People with personalities. Really neat people.
People who may dress differently, talk differently, but who had
the all consuming goal of making computing Pretty Darned Fun Once
Again.
All around the colors were bright, music drifted through the air
and excited voices came from this way or that saying things, like
"gee, isn't that amazing?" or "wow, I didn't know a computer
could do that", or "who really did kill Laura Palmer?". Meanwhile
the crew begain to realize that their destiny was not to
busywait around the City, but to head back out to the lair of the
enemy, knowing that they must never rest until every last C:
prompt is vaporized, every haughty mac owner is brought low, and
clicking disk-drives are banished forever.
And now realizing that a whole lot more of these crazy, yet
charming adventures waited for them whenever the author could get
enough time to write more (which would be only if he sells 20,000
copies of his award winning, much revered program, Distant Suns),
they boarded their now aging EnterBoing and departed RoboCity.
All seemingly satisfied that their mission had been accomplished.
"Captain?" asked Bryce as things were settling down.
"Yeah, what is it."
"Do you really think that it was the Lesbian Windows 3.0
programmer? I always thought that it was the Logarithm Lady,
myself. . ."
Kodiak broke in, "Where to now Captain?".
A slight grin crept across Dales interface. "Well, first we must
pick up an, ahem, 'friend' of mine from the Syndesis Star System,
on the planet Aztecia. And then, well, boys, I reckon we have a
wedding to go to. . ."
Dale was smiling broadly now.
::
"So what is the capital of Burundi? Ah, Mr. Luck would you care
to answer?. . .I asked you a question Mr. Luck."
The stern 3rd grade teacher towered over the end of Dales desk,
arms crossed.
"Eat Stickybits Seagate breath!, Uh, . . .oh. . .". Dale suddenly
snapped out of his daydream.
"Been flying around the universe in this 'Boing' thing of yours
again, eh? Mr. Luck? I'll ask again, what is the capital of
Burundi?"
Dale felt the stares of his classmates. "Robocity!" he shouted.
"Mr. Luck, once again I must report you to the principals
office."
Realizing the principal was no friend to MIPS, BOBs, vsprites or
IPC, the brave captain stood his ground against the fire-
breathing Page Fault monster. Throwing an ethernet over it he
proceeded to thrash it's head. His enemy dazed, he made his
escape dashing out of the stifling confines of the classr. . .,
er, partition. Standing at the end of the hallway stood a caped
figure.
"Hi there captain! 3rd period out already?"
Dale met up with his friend, and faster than an intuitick event
he soon rejoined his comrades, ready for a whole new set of
adventures.
"Uh captain", asked Bryce, "just what is the capital of Burundi?"
"Bujumbura" he resonded with the confindence only a MouseFleet
captain would have.
Dale leaned forward. "Ok gentlemen, cut the small-talk, I feel
that we still have some Neat Stuff (tm) yet to accomplish. Jimm,
swap us outta here. . ."
The EnterBoing's engines roared to life with a sound so loud they
could be heard in a vacuum. The captain retreated back to his
cabin to relax after a hard episode's work. He flipped on his
terminal and logged in to the ever popular SnoozeNet. He stopped
at his favorite snoozegroup, comp.sys.amiga.starchip.captains.
"Hmmmm, 6,355,712 unread messages". They must be talking about
piracy again. . . ."
And the EnterBoing sailed on.
--------------------------------------
Until next time, may all your errors by trapped, your loops be
tight, and may your programs be 2.0 compliant. And may you buy
lots and lots of copies of Distant Suns. Amen.
---------------------- clip here ----------------------
Appendix A
The Dog is Jay Miner's beloved Michi (sp?). If you A1000 guys ever
opened up the top of your machine to look at the signatures inside,
you may remember seeing a paw-print there.
Hi Toro - You figure that one out (heh, heh).
Moof - the sound made by the Apple developers mascot, the Cow-Dog.
-------------------------------------------------------
You may remember the "Guess the Guru" contest I announced when
AmigaTrek 4.1 was released in January. Well, I expected to be
overwhelmed with entries as I was for the "Name That Software" contest
last year. Well, all told, I received 14, yep, 14 entries.
When I thought up the original premise at the Washington DevCon
two years ago, it was Kodiak Burns who suggested Michi. It was a closely
guarded secret, and I thought that no one would ever guess. Ahhh,
said I, "I'd be saving myself a few bucks in postage since no-one
would ever win the prize". Wrongo. The second entry, the SECOND one!
guessed it. Arrrghhhh!. The lucky winner of a copy of Distant Suns
is Ross Bogue of purdue. Ross, if you can send me your address I'll
get this off to you.
Other suggestions included a couple of Dave Haynies, a Carl Sassenrath,
Andy Finkle and Maxine Headroom.
So gentlemen, there you have it. Enjoy.
And if you have missed any of the previous episodes, I believe they
are all on Fish disks, up through part 4.1.
AmigaTrek is copyright 1990 by Mike Smithwick. No part of this
may be reproduced without the expressed written consent of the
commissioner of baseball.
If you want to post this on a BBS or use it for newsletter filler,
along with any other segments, feel free to do so, providing you
email me for permission first.
+++++ mike +++++
Any opinions are my own since nobody else would ever want them.
"Lisa! You make it sound like butt-kissing is something to be
ashamed of!" Homer Simpson.