mike@ames.arc.nasa.gov (Mike Smithwick) (07/29/89)
["Here, hold this armadillo . . ."] the following is copyright 1989 by mike smithwick of Starship Enterprises. . . ------------------------------------------------------------- (Fascinating Note : The following was conceived BEFORE I was even aware of the plot to Star Trek 5) ------------------------------------------------------------- AmigaTrek, 4.0! WARNING : Do not operate any heavy equipment when reading the following. . . ------------------------------------------------------------- teee teee teee teee. . . Dumb, te dumb, te dumb deedee dumb. . . These are the continuing voyages of the StarChip EnterBoing : to explore new algorithms, to seek out new technologies, to meet more stellar babes, and to go where no puns have gone before. . . ------------------------------------------------------------- In an unimportant arm of a pointless galaxy of a remote corner of a rather dull universe sits a dreary little solar system. On the fourth planet, a Pysgosian commander is upset when a mere ensign of the Intersellian Imperial Battalions from the planet Unlandian-12 insults his mother-in-law, calling her what could best be described as a wombat in drag who picks her nose using common garden implements. What the Pysgosian commander didn't know was that the Unlandian wombat is an object of veneration and that nose picking is an act of worship. Therefore, what was thought to be an insult was actually a high compliment. Unfortunately, before the Ensign could explain, he discovered that Psygosians have fairly short and rather teutonic tempers. And his entire planet was instantly vaporized into subatomic component mesons, destroying his family, Barry Manilow record collection and the entire wombat population of that galaxy. As a result, this would eventually set off a cosmic chain of events which would lead to the destruction of the physical dimensions 1 to 4, 7 to 8, 11, all Barry Manilow master tapes and the sudden purging of Commodore Toy, head of Mousefleet. But that has absolutely nothing to do with this story. . . ************************************************************* Chapter 0 Captains Log - CPU time 172118.7. Dum-de-dum. Well, nothing much is happening. The boys are down on the Spectrum Holodeck testing "the limits of the computer's simulation algorithms". Ever since they received that new "Harems of Orion" database from MegaPrice Software, I haven't seen much of them. As for myself, I've been spending some time on the new AmigaWhirl contest. Now if only I can figure out the DNA sequence of a Psygosian Wombat. . . In the meantime, the EnterBoing has been having problems as of late. Ever since we upgraded to AmigaDross 37.8x10E21, all sorts of annoying bugs have been popping up. We've been having to subsist on boxes of old-display cookies and blitter-chips and dip due to a bug in the Food Synthesizer System that makes everything look like slightly congealed lime jello and taste like a cross between gerbil droppings and rancid road kill. Not a pretty sight when you had your heart set on a sauteed mushrooms, fettucini and a nice chablis. Captain out. Bored out of his Mindscape, Dale took the Digi-lift down to the Menu-Bar for a drink, passing some of those insignificant extras in red jerseys along the way. "There's nothing like some BoingBeer to fix things up" he thought. Suddenly, and without warning, the ship's lights dim. "Oh FACC!" cursed Dale, "I must've forgotten to pay the power bill!" The lights flickered on and off, followed by distant gronking of the OverDrives. Dale quickly made his way back to the bridgboard, shoving some extras to the side. "Fweeep-sheesh" went the Digi-Lift doors. "Whirr, clickety-click, gronk boozabooza whirr eeeeeech!" went the Digi-Lift. "Sheesh-fweep" said the doors, as they opened to release the captain onto the bridge revealing a scene which would make make most men tremble. Each and every computer was slowly flashing red with the.. . .Hello? What? An unknown GURU number! "Dale to Holodeck! We've had a major systems failure boys, drop whatever your doing and get up here!" "Geereech" went the doors as a flustered bridge crew drags- selected on in. An exhausted Ensign Jim whined "Aww captain, couldn't it have waited. I was just getting to Dos-base!" "Count your blessings" said Bryce, "I couldn't get by that damn code wheel!" Dale slowly waved his hand across the room. "Well gentlemen, first the food-generator goes, then the main computers, what do you make of it?" Jim was swept up into a trace like state, performing a heavy-duty analysis of the situation. "Well sir" he breathed, "I think the main computers have gone." "Do you want me to fill out a bug-report?" ensign Bryce injected with his boundless enthusiasm. "Ensign Bryce, why don't you use you boundless enthusiasm to check the manuals first to see if they can help." "NO! NOT THE MANUALS!!" Dale tossed him a slender volume. "Here son, you can do it". "This is it?" "Hey, this is the most user-friendly StarChip ever made. What do you expect?" Bryce's hand trembled as he slowly turned to the first page. "Introduction to the EnterBoing Class StarChip". "Congratulations on purchasing your EnterBoing StarChip. The StarChip will provide you with years of effortless galactic hyperspace exploration, and a great chance to meet girls. ("Excuse me, how 'bout you and me blow this planet and go to the hotbaths on Foobar-12"). Remember to send in your registration card so we can inform you of upgrades, bugs and possible problems with the matter-anti- matter maglev containment chamber. . . (The ensign read further. . .) "The bridge is where you control your starchip. The captain's chair may be raised or lowered depending on what feels comfortable. . ." (Skips to chapter 8) ". . .To reset the StarChip's clocks, press buttons 1,3,7,10 and 12 at the same time on the preferences panel. Of course, if you are humanoid, you may have problems with that, simply call up one of your mutant pals or someone from the planet Flophouse-7. . ." After a few more minutes, Bryce closed the book with contempt and tossed it back to Dale. "Nothing here of any significance, except I found out how to finally set the clocks." Meanwhile, in an insignificant register on the Michelle chip of the Mark IV gravity generator from the Graviton Corporation ("our generators suck better than anyone elses!") a pointer decided he had enough mucking around according to someone elses offsets. In the process of exploring his own individualality as a pointer and re-examining his goals in his life, he changed the sign on a constant. . . The crew abruptly found themselves plastered against the ceiling like spitwads in a 3rd grade classroom. The ship's message ports were bursting with activity about the toilets on decks 5 and 7 exploding not to mention all of the dust from the floors getting into the supra-drives. "Hey! This is really neat! Look guys, I'm walking on the ceiling!" whooped Jim. Dale grimaced, "Uh, why don't we call the tech-support line?" Thinking that was a nobel idea, Lt. Dave pulled himself towards the communications console and dialed the line. "(Ring-ring) You have reached the MegaCorps tech support line. All of our operators are busy now so please hold on. Unless of course you're calling about the bug in the Matter-Antimatter Maglev Containment Chamber, in which case it's probably too late! (click, Barry Manilow music starts to play)(click. buzzzzzzz. . .)" "Dammit. The phone just hung". Unawares of the havoc he was causing the diminutive pointer was having the time of his life. Turning the corner in the gravity generator he swept by another constant hurling the crew about the cabin, their Forms-in-Flight resembling so much popcorn in the popper. As quickly as it began, the ship settled down. Muted emergency communications could be heard in the background. "Misaligned words on Deck 6", "Stay away from the toilets on Deck 12", "Escaped harem girls outside the Holodeck. . ." "Hey guys, there's an intruder on board!" chirped Bob, the new user-cheerful computer. The digilift opened, ("dweedlexweep-weeesh"), and out stepped the bearded rogue, the flamboyant and mysterious Galactic-Baron Piechart von Windsheild. "Piechart you old scoundrel! It's been years since I last saw you at the Mousefleet Academy". The smartly attired Baron grasped the Captain on both shoulders as an old friend. "Dale, it's good to see you, but that's not why I'm here. Sorry fellows," he said, glancing around at the others, "but I'm pre-empting your mission. It seems like I am in great need of a StarChip." The crafty Baron strolled across the bridge with grace and aplomb. "You see gentlemen, we're on our way to the lair of the GURU, to see who this character really is and why we must meditate on his blasted numbers. And with this wisdom, we can rule the Galaxy! Or at least, a couple of acres in Wyoming. Anyway, I've taken the liberty of inserting a little patch in your OS, changed the global vector to take us to the GURU's star system. And should any of you try to change the program and regain control of the ship, I'll a, I'll a . . .", a smile crept across his interface, "I'll have you guys shrink-wrapped and put on the PageStream debugging team! Ha ha ha ha ha. . ." Bryce interrupted him asking, "How do you know GURU exists, aren't the stories about him just myth and legends?" "Certainly not!" spouted the brazen figure, "You see, I've had visions, Software Visions to be precise. Late one nite I had put myself into the State of Boing after meditating on one particularly crufty number. And the message came to me that not only did he exist, but he was living in Computer Nirvana." [Computer Nirvana is the legendary land where software is bug free, it rains RAM chips, and the CPU speeds double each week. In Computer Nirvana, BCPL is illegal, and the Macintosh is used to prop open doors or for target practice on the skeet range. It is here where Hackers are revered and showered with praise, and their project managers address them as "sir". Tech support lines are answered before the first ring, announced products are always released, and released early] "So fellows, I hope you haven't made any Maxiplans for this evening as we're going on a little Trip Hawkins." (pause for readers to gag) ************************************************************** Chapter 1 Captain's Log Boing Date 3.14159 : Things aren't nearly so dull anymore. With the Galactic Baron stealing the EnterBoing on his psychopathic mission, I have little to do but catch up on some old copies of OverByte Magazine. The bugs are still infecting us, and by now all of the toilets are inoperative forcing the crew to go where no man has gone before. The captain paced back and Forth, his crew both assembled and linked before him. "What we need are some Creative Solutions!" Kodiak's hand shot up, waving frantically. "I know, I know sir! Why don't we just sit him down and talk. We can reason with him, appeal to his humanness, his innate sense of nobility. And if that doesn't work we could offer him some cash. I could kick in a couple of bucks. . ." "That's pretty Soft Logik if you ask me. . ." snapped Jim. The captain raised his hand to quiet the clamour. "We must first check the Mousefleet Regulations Manual under 'Captured by Roguish Character'. . . .Ah, here it is, Section 2, subsection 4.1 paragraph 6. 'Give in, it makes for a good show'." ***************************************** Meanwhile, the EnterBoing sailed off towards the unknown reaches of Normalized Vector Space in search of the elusive GURU. All seemed quiet. . . "Bweedweep! Bweedweep! Bweedweep!" erupted the warning siren. "Captain! Unknown solar system up ahead." "Put in on the Digiviewer." Kodiak pointed towards the screen. "Look, there are alot of those planet thingies. . .Shouldn't we get out and look around?" "Let's see what the Manual says under 'Coming Up to an Unknown Solar System while in the Evil Grip of a Roguish Character'. 'If the solar system has alot of those planet thingies, get out and look around why don't cha'. And it sez further 'When forming a landing party to an unknown and potentially hostile planet, always take the most valuable crewmembers, leaving the ship in the hands of inexperienced trainees. Also bring along a handful of those red jerseyied guys to take the heat. They're a dime-a- dozen, and no one will miss them.'" "Captain," remarked Kodiak with a concerned voice, "in a situation such as this don't you think you should stay here with the ship?" "Nonsense ensign. As the captain, it is my heroic duty to accompany the landing party on these missions. Plus the StarChip Captain's Union Local 6502 gets us hazard pay for things like this." With permission bits from the Baron, the ship entered into a low orbit around the fourth planet. The globe beneath exhibited an odd fuzzy appearance not to mention the limited colormap of only 16 colors. Accompanied by the Baron, the crew put on their bootblocks and headed towards the transporter room. . . Upon entering, the transporter guy greeted them with distressing news, "I want to warn you Captain, the latest release of the PriceWare transporter control software, 'TelePort!' has a few, er, bugs in it." "Don't worry, well send down the red shirted extras first and see how they fare." The figures of the extras began to dissolve from the chamber. Suddenly their FORMs changed to random patterns and blazing colors all blending into a sea of confused and tangled configurations. Finally they flickered once or twice and blinked out. The Transporter Guy banged his fist against the console, "Dammit! Crashed again. Lookeethere! There's a GURU number I haven't seen before . ." "What happened to the extras?" "Looks like they got their coppers trashed. Tough way to go." Dale patted him on the back, "That's ok, we could use their rooms for extra storage space for my beer can collection. Let's take the shuttle, Galileo, ok?" Armed with fresh red shirted guys the crew touched down onto the arid foreboding planet. "Kodiak, get a reading of the atmosphere and see if it's ok for us to breathe." Moments later, a couple of the extras were shoved out the door to take some deep breaths. After 5 minutes, seeing that they hadn't keeled over, the rest of the crew step gingerly out onto the twisted Videoscape. Tangled Btrees were scattered randomly around. The ground had an indistinct feel to it, quantized in steps or layers. "No babes here, let's go" said Jim. "Not so fast ensign." A shrill scream came from behind one of the rocks, and out shot a curious fuzzy creature. "ohmygawd!" shouted Dale, "IT'S THE JAGGIES!!" (actually, the jaggies were just a nickname, since their real name was too hard to pronounce). Immediately the crew was stricken with severe headaches and their eyes began to water. One of the jaggies jumped onto an extra and pummeled him into a low-resolution version of his former self. "Look! They're aliasing the red shirted things!" wailed Kodiak. "Quick! The Interlace guns!" yelled Dale, reaching for his holster. On cue they fired, hitting one between the lines, forcing the others to dart behind the rocks. Jim began to cry. "I really didn't want to come here captain. In fact, I really didn't want to join up on your stupid StarChip. My mom forced me to. Actually, it was my brothers fault. He got all the good grades in school and my mom said 'Jim why can't you be like your brother!'. The best I could do was 'Ensign'. And now it's 'Ensign do this, ensign do that!' That's all I hear. 'Ensign, blast the PageFault monster!'. I really wanted to be a lumberjack. Striding through the peaceful forests of Eastern Washington state, the maple, the pine. . . That nice fresh woody scent that you can only get from household cleansers." Dale lunged towards the crazed crewman. "He's got Marble Madness! Stop him, use the MouseFleet nerve pinch!" ". . .Ohh, I'm a lumberjack and I'm OK. . ." Kodiak approached Jim who by know had broken into a silly little jig. ". . .oh, I'm just a NO-OP in the instruction set of Life. . ." Kodiak nimbly placed 3 fingers on his face and pressed at the same time resetting the confused ensign. Jim immediately fell to the ground, his eyes blinking slowly as he whistled a faint tune which vaguely resembled something from a Wagnerian opera. Meanwhile one of the Jaggies was sneaking up behind the Captain. . . "Look Captain, a jaggy is sneaking up behind you!" "I am perfectly capable of reading the narration myself." Dale coolly clubbed him over the head with a flicker-fixer, then rolled out of the way. By now Bryce was becoming feverish, "Ohhhh, If only we had the HedlyBlaster!" Dale kicked at yet another Jaggy. "Uh, well, ours has been on order for 42 years, but they still haven't shipped. Ooomph!" The alien had grabbed the captain by the leg, causing it to stairstep. "What we really need, ouch!, is a, arrrgh!, convincing turn of events to get us out of this, grunch!, mess." "Someone call?" came a familiar voice. A shadowy figure stepped out of rising cloud of vapor, trailed by a tasteful and yet understated cape. "I said 'convincing'." The Caped Wonder had appeared out of nowhere, upraised staff in one hand and an curious looking device in the other. Lord Leo of Schwab aimed the box towards the Jaggies, and in one graceful sweeping motion, launched hardware anti-aliasing algorithms in their directions throwing them into 24-bit deep pixels. Unable to tolerate true RGB representation they were first Z-buffered then mapped in real-time up against a sphere. Leo giggled at his own cleverness. "Gee, isn't this Toaster thingie neat!" "The TOASTER?" exclaimed Bryce, "You mean it's actually been released??" The "Toaster" was one of those items of children's fables, roughly in the same category as Computer Nirvana and laptop Macs. Some claimed that they did see it demonstrated, but upon doing so, they were immediately put under psychiatric observation only to be found years later cleaning sticky bits off of directory listings in some remote galactic bus-depot. "No it hasn't. But I just got back from NewTekia where I had, ahem, borrowed one of these puppies. But don't tell them that. Boy those people talk weird, repeating everything 3 or 4 times, times, 3 or 4 times. . ." "Hey, where's the Baron?" asked Dave. Piechart stuck his head out of the shuttle's hatch. "Oh, hi guys. The shuttle needed some tidying up, so humble servant that I am, I thought I'd stay back and clean the powerwindows, wax the floor and picked up all of the beer cans and twinkie wrappers. Geeze, what a pig sty. When you guys say you're going on a landing party, you really mean PARTY." At that moment, the Baron caught sight of the Master of Software Mirth. "Leo old pal! Nice to see ya. Put 'em there guy. Nice Cape, new? Say, when's 'Onion' gonna be done?" Embarrassed, Leo turned and began to trot away. "Uh, I think I'll be on my way. . ." Grabbing hold of the cape, Dale yanked him back a few steps. "Not so fast buster. We may be needing your help. It seems like your friend here has hijacked the EnterBoing, intending to take us to find the GURU." "You're looking for the GURU. Wow, have I got a few things I'd like to say to him. Sign me up!" Realizing that they've now gathered an official 'group' required by law for any "Great Quest", everyone linked arms, skipped off into the setting suns and launched themselves into a chorus of song. . . "Ohhhhhhhh, we're off to meet the GURU, the wonderful GURU of all. Because because because because because. software tricks, BCPL, drives that click, structures from hell, . . . ." ***************************************************** Chapter 3 Captains Log, access time 33 ms : After that harrowing battle with the jaggies, I felt I deserved a nice hot bath. Fortunately, the ships stores still had some Mr. Bubble on hand. Afterwards I got a bowl of BoingFlakes from the Cereal Port, clipped out the 10 cents off coupon from the back, and read over their "Header File of the month". The peace was rudely broken by the sirens going off. "Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!" they went. The angered captain quickly shot up to the bridge to investigate. "Would you turn off that damn 'whoooping' sound it's giving me a headache. And cut the flashing Red We-Might-Be-In-Danger-but- Probably-Aren't lights as well!" "I'm sorry sir," replied Bryce, "but I think that we are really in danger. Look!" The captain directed his gaze towards the Digiviewer, and saw a solid black cube streaking towards them. "Wait, I need to check the Official Mouse Fleet Procedures Manual on this. Under the section, 'how to deal with strange solid black cubes coming towards you'. Ah, here it is. 'Try to establish communications and tell them that you are merely harmless shepards looking for grazing land. If that doesn't work, try to sell them some old copies of Textcraft as a sign of peace then get the hell out of there before they get a chance try them out. If that doesn't work, try to do something really clever that will satisfy the viewing audience and solve the problem in 48 minutes.'" "fOpen hailing frequencies Mr. Kodiak, by the way, is that your real name?." "Frequencies fOpened sir." Dale stood up, feet apart and hands placed on his hips. He learned this stance from the MouseFleet academy acting classes on how to create the most menacing image which could conceivably scare away the aliens with bad eyesight, or at least have them laughing so hard as to permit a quick exit. "Aethstetcially pleasing black cube. This is the commander of the StarChip EnterBoing. We mean you no harm." (In fact, Captain Dale received an "A" in his "We-Mean-You No-Harm" class). A flood of strange commands burst forth over the comm line, the crew looked at each other unable to make it out. Leo's face brightened up with recognition. "Postscript! That's postscript!" "Cut in the Postscript interpreter." (buzz, snap, crackle, pop) ". . .higher education zone. We repeat. This is the higher education zone. Color is not permitted, nor are mere game computers or any machines with less than 400 terabytes of internal storage. Floppy drives? Forget it jack, that's old technology. Same for keyboards and mice. You must have direct neural input from now on just as soon as we can make it work.. . ." Awed, Kodiak leaned towards Leo and whispered, "wow, the nExt sTarcHiP, I never would've believed. . ." "I hear it's fast! So fast in fact that it can do an infinite loop in 2 1/2 seconds!" added Bryce. "IMHO Captain, I think that should Get Outta HERE!!" every said in unison. "No, we have a mission, we must study the enemy, to learn from their mistakes." The Enterboing drifted slowly in front of the unblinking GigaPixel monitor and prepared for yet another tiresome technological showdown. This time however, they were none too sure of the outcome as the newer starchips were gradually catching up with the EnterBoing. More messages came from the cube. "Unknown primitive Starchip, leave this area at once or we shall be forced to take action!" Jim glanced down at his console. "Sir! They've activated their optical drives!" "Activate Phasars! I've had enough of their Antics!" At that point the DigiViewer's screen blacked out, to be replaced by a cheerful repeating color pattern. "Damn that screenblanker! Oh well, fire 1!" Immediately a condensed beam of home budget expense reports leapt out towards the alien's screen, only to bounce harmlessly off. "Oh oh, they've armed the Dock." "Hold steady, brace yourselves!" warned the captain. Uncertain what to expect the crew contemplated their fates. Jim could be heard mumbling 10 "Hail Gails" to the Holy Mother Software under his breath. Kodiak regretted about never having the chance to meet the Pixmate of the Month in the latest issue of PlayGeek magazine. Dale was still fuming about not being able to remember the DNA sequence for Unlandian Wombats. Together, they silently observed an arrow smoothly glide over to an icon depicting a spacecraft exploding like an overripe can of spam in 4 brilliant shades of gray. The icon highlighted, and the crew held their collective breaths. . . But nothing happened. A minute passed. A small box appeared on the screen saying "waiting for application to launch". And they still waited. A person can wait only so long to be annialated, so the crew quickly became bored. Bryce slowly backed the EnterBoing away without so much as being noticed, leaving the NextChip staring into space, waiting. . . . "Gee, they don't even have a ZZ cloud or one of those cute watch thingies!" commeted Dave. "Well, that's what they get by using Version .999998245 of the OS" snickered Piechart. So, as the Ship sailed away towards greater unknowns, state-of- the-art weirdness, voices could be heard emanating from the bridge singing in unison. . . "Only Amiga. . .." "No no! That's the old one! The new one is 'Amiga-We're working on it!'" "Hey, are the johns working yet?" ------------------------------------------------------- Will our crew ever meet the Guru before 1.4 comes out? Will Kodiak ever meet Miss Pixmate? Will Dan Quayle ever get his foot out of his mouth? Who cares? Join is same time, same DMA Channel for Episode 2, of "Where No Geek has Gone Before!" ------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------- feel free to make use of this however you see fit. If you want to publish it in a local newsletter, please let me know (and send me a copy). It may be published only with the appropriate credit at the end, identifying moi, and stating that I am the creator of Galileo. And we thank-you for your support. *** mike (still looking for a publisher) smithwick *** "Los Angeles : Where neon goes to die" [disclaimer : nope, I don't work for NASA, I take full blame for my ideas]