        Ok, h{r {r del tre fr}n den of|rb{tterligen M Smithwich...

                               Mycket n|je / Zaphod

-------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: mike@ames.arc.nasa.gov (Mike Smithwick)
Subject: Re: ac
tivate Spam detectors
Keywords: blast 'em all
Organization: NASA Ames Research Center, Moffett Field, Calif.

[]

Just when you thought it was safe to get back on net.news,
comes. . .

       >>> AmigaTrek - The Next Generation 3.0 <<<

       Tonight's episode : Revenge of the Marketroids, part 3

                   - The Final Battle -


-----------------------------------------------------------

In our last neuron numbing episode our (mostly) fearless crew had
been captured by the evil Lord of marketroids, Generalissimo
Akers, ruler of Businesslandia. Here they learned of his low-
level plan to convert the entire universe into minions of
"Oh-Oh-S-2", the "Operating System of the BrainDead". Next he
created clones of Captain Dale and en tire crew, (complete with
Look and Feel of the originals), and quickly dispatched them in
real-time to the DevCon being held at MouseFleet Academy. . .

==========================================================

Chapter 0

It was a gala event, glitter, excitement and M&Ms were in
abundance. Searchlights pierced the sky, scanf-ing back and forth
playing hide-and-fseek with each other.

The official MouseFleet punk band ("The Trashed Registers"
playing their hit single "You May Have Misaligned Words, but I
Have an Offset for You") welcomed bank after bank of delegates
from here and abroad. Eager journalists from Blazing Computing,
Amiga Whirl and other such rags jostled each other for the best
posture behind the barricades. Then there was the frenzied throng
of groupies, curiosity seekers and autograph hunters hoping for
the chance to catch a mere glimpse of greatness.

One by one the stretch limos pulled up at the entrance and one by
on the celebrities stepped out to be greeted by a blinding
explosion of flashes from the paparazzi.

"There's Joanne Dow!!" screamed an excited software groupie.
Flashes from the cameras followed the enigmatic Wizardess as she
darted into the hall, her fur-trimmed cape fluttering behind.


"Oh! Look! There's Robyn LaPasha, and no, it can't be, Fred
Fish?", shouted one feverish groupie, Paula. Her harried friend,
Denise, jumped up and down, clapping her hands together, "Oh,
he's soooo cute!".

Fred waved cheerfully to the mob.

Still more limos DMAed people to the palace. Finally, after what
seemed like forever, appeared the one many had come to see.

"Oh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THERE HE IS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!", shouted Paula
hysterically. "THERE'S MIKE SMITHWICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!". They
jumped, frantically waving their hands to catch his attention.

"Wow, what a bod!!" Denise said.

"Yeah, and isn't his Galileo program rad!".

"I'll say, and I hear it won an award at the Chicago Consumer
Electronics Show, too."

Mike, never one to spurn the recognition he so richly deserved,
swept into the crowd to shake hands, sign copies of his
award-winning, rad program, kiss babies, and debug code people
had brought. Hands thrust out from the crowd, from spectators
wanting only to touch him. Beautiful women fainted at his feet.

Ah, but he was used to this.

Once they recovered the young women turned their attention back
to the rest of the activity.

 "Who's that?" asked Denise.

 "Uh, I think it's Randy Spencer".

 "Oh".

And still the pantheon of immortality continued to scroll through
the evening.

There was Jim Goodnow the 7.2x10^23th, Guy "I'm always" Wright
and Tim Geniusson Lord of NewTekia with his band of cool guys.
Next came the delegation from C-(un)Ltd, followed by groups from
Nerd Perfect (the one's who brought you the combination Word-Food
Processor), A-Cubed, MicroDellusions and many others.

And the rabble nearly went Berserk.

Finally, the real stars arrived, the crew of the StarChip
EnterBoing. . .

Out stepped Captain Dale, and all hell broke loose forcing the
riot police to call for reinforcements. Immediately behind him
was Ensigns Jimm, Dave, Bryce, followed by Lord Leo. But wait!!
All was not right in Amiga-land. They were all wearing, gulp,
>>> T I E S <<< !

All at once a murmur rippled through the crowd like the shock-
wave from a small nuclear.device.

====================================================

Chapter 1

Even as the delegates were seg-loading up on the conference
documentation, disks and Commodore Toy secret decoder rings,
roomers began to spreadsheet around of an impending announcement.
Some new vaporous-ware perhaps? The release of the long awaited
6502 daughter board? Would Manx announce their support for
double-precision characters needed for those pesky
extraterrestrial alphabets?

Quickly enough the technical sessions began and everyone scatter-
loaded into different meeting rooms. Topics such as "You and the
BlitterCritter","Assembly Made Easy in 1598 single-Steps","How to
Market your Bad Ideas", "Crappy Software: The Ultimate Copy
Protection!", and "Effective Use of the Trashdisk.device".

However, the highest priority event was expected to be at the
general sessions, where all eagerly awaited to see Leo's "Latest
Screen Hack".

"What would it be" they eagerly asked themselves. "A ball
juggling unicycles? A unicycle juggling balls?, A unicycle
juggling unicycles?". A hush wafted through the room when the Leo
clone entered.

"That red tie, it still didn't look right on him" they all
thought synchronously at the same time. It made him seem like a
picture which was just slightly tilted. Leo took his seat.

"Hey! Let's see a screen hack! We're die'n back here!"

The Leo-clone l
ooked up. "Huh? Screen wha. . . Oops, ahh, so
sorry sir, I'm just too busy working on important stuff like
'office solutions'".

A collective gasp of horror went up from the gathering.

Later that nite a couple of representative from RSN Software and
Regressive Peripherals were chatting at a classy nearby
restaurant about unusual events.

"So anyway, I saw Captain Dale playing with SuperDeluxe Paint-by-
Numbers and the Flicker FixerUpper. . ."

"Your pull-down menu sir" interrupted the waiter, double-clicking
his shoes.

"Thanks" replied the RSN delegate, nibbling on a roll, Byte-by-
Byte. "Well, anyway, the system GURU'ed, and Dale said to himself
'What's a GURU?'. I tell ya, I sense a parity error here. . ."

====================================================

Chapter 2

In the darkness of their cell-block, Captain Dale and his crew
remained Locked up in hash-chains. Stripped of their hacker-
blasters there was little they could do.

"Oh darn!" said Leo, "if only there as a
 way to call
 DisplayAlert() to tell people we're here".

An agitated Jimm jumped in, "Pipe: down you dipswitch! They'll
never find us!"

All of a sudden, a blinding light appeared in the room. There
stood a powerfully built figure, hands on hips, w
earing blue tights. A brilliant cape danced behind him. On his
chest was a handsome ray-traced "R".

"Oh my!" Dale burst out. "It's >>> RENDERMAN <<<!!!".

"You're so right oh shaggy one" Renderman decreed.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was
 on my way to Pixaria, when I sensed that this stupid
 little story needed serious help."

 "Boy does it Renderman" the shapely Lauren exclaimed. "We hafta
 get on to our next and most exciting episode yet, to go were no
 pun has gone before. . ."

 "Here are your blaster thingies. And now, off with your chains".
With one mighty sweep of his hand, the locks were XORed, and
magically vanished from their wrists. "Ta ta gang", and faster
than a screen-refresh, Renderman vanished.

The crew hurried out the cell, blasters drawn, and scuttled down
the darkened passageway. . .

==================================================

Chapter 3

Now, in it's second day, the delegates filed into the main()
hall. A note of anticipation hung in the air. On the long
symbol-table in the front were a number of veiled boxes. The
Dale-clone stepped up to the podium, wisps of vapor trailing
close to his heels. Not only was he wearing a tie, but a fine
Italian 3 piece suit. The picture was severly tilted
now. Cuddled under his arm was a stack of viewgraphs.

"Ladies and Gentlemen", he started, motioning for the crowd to
quiet.

"Over the past years, we've been intensely developing something
to help you developers. Something you have all been clamoring
for. We've listened, and we care. Therefore, I am here to
announce the development of >>> A New Operating System <<<."

The delegates looked at each other with eager faces.

"Quiet please, quiet. We've heard your cries. Yes, we've gotten
rid of BCPL. . ."

The audience applauded enthusiastically.

". . . we've added memory management!"

They jumped up cheering.

". . . it has advanced IPC!!"

The crowd was now standing on their seats.

"It's four times bigger, and is MS-DOG compatile!!!"

Silence.

"Uh. . ., well. . ., I introduce Oh-Oh-S/2!"

With that, Dale yanked off the covers over the mysterious boxes.

The audience dropped their collective jaw, for there stood some
unimpressive small units, each showing a simple A: prompt.


The delegates stared with a blank OpenLook.

Dale continued on, "Uh, of course those window thingies will come
when the 'Presentation Damager' is released, uh, one-of-these-
days-in-the-near-future-real-soon-now".

By now some of the attendees began to huddle around the machines,
poking and probing every connector or on-off switch. One however
spotted something odd on the back.

"Hey, all of the Serial Numbers begin with '666'!".

=====================================================

Chapter 4

Sneaking around the corner, the crew spotted a couple of
marketroid sentries. Realizing they needed a disguise, they
formulated some quick algorithms. . .

Jimm emerged from the shadows and headed straight towards the
guards armed with a request no marketroid could resist.

"Excuse me guys, could you explain to me, a, ahem, 'power-user',
office-solutions to fit my needs?"

"You bet!" they replied in eager unison.

One marketroid immediately pulled out a stack of viewgraphs and
doughnuts from his briefcase.

With their victims distracted, Dale and Carolyn snuck out of the
darkness and clobbered them with a compatibility-box, knocking
them out like a cold-reset. Kodiak and Dave scooped up the
briefcases, and removed their power-ties.

Within minutes, everyone was suitably outfitted, and on their
ways to Generalissimo Aker's office.

-----

"Do you have an appointment?" yawned the secretary.

"No, but we'll be just a minute" replied Lauren. With that, they
coolly raised their blasters and fired at the door.

=====================================================

Chapter 5

"GET THEM!! THEY'RE IMPOSTORS!" shouted an angry Randy Spencer.

The clones, fear filling their eyes, dashed out of the room and
scrambled down the hallway. The frenzied horde thundered close
behind.

Fred Fish heading the pack, launched  disk after disk towards the
clones like so many tiny frisbees. The Lauren Brown clone was the
first to fall, followed by the Jimm clone. Both were disassembled
immediately. The Dale clone tripped over a bunch of
hunk-headers scattered in the hallway, and wacked his ROM on the
floor.

The remaining clones scurried around the corner, barely out of
reach from the slavering mob. Hands grasped for their ties.
Directly in front of them at the end of the hall stood an
enormous menacing woman. With her arms crossed she stood squarely
in the way of the elevator.

"Oh no!" shouted the Leo clone, "It's FAT-AGNUS!".

Surrounded, the clones gave up their resources and were lead off
to judgment.

====================================================

Chapter 6

Generalissimo Akers didn't know what hit him. Kodiak blasted away
with a liberal dose of RGB rays. Aker's flesh became strangely
rubber-like, causing his legs to fall out from under his frame.

Next, Dale synced his beam, and coolly fired off a series of
killer demos.

The Lord of Marketroids crashed to the floor. Dave knelt down to
the body and looked into it's eyes. "He's BrainDead Jim".
"HA, HA, HA, I always wanted to say that!"

====================================================

Chapter 7

They're duty completed in Busnesslandia, the crew was now faced
with the task (or is it 'process'?) of getting home.

"Hey, hi guys!" came an unlikely, but familiar Chicago accent
from off the set.

"RJ?"

"Uh, yeah. Boy, you guys seem like you really needed some help as
does this story. So, I got my secret new StarChip out back. . ."

"How did you know we were here?" inquired Carolyn.

"Oh, let's just say that I used my 'Intuition'. Ha! Ha! Ha! I
always wanted to say that!!"

"So let's go!" shouted Leo.

"Not so fast, you'll have to sign these non-disclosure forms
first, then well be on our way, on a journey of, heh, heh, 'Epyx'
proportions."

After filling out exactly 157 pieces of paper, and answering
questions such as "what arn't your favorite colors" and
"honestly, have you really played all Zork games all the way
through without cheating?" they were out the door. Soon enough,
R and the crew were escaping Businesslandia is his as yet
unreleased [[technical descriptions of this vehicle have been
removed to avoid possible legal complications]] that will blow
your socks off!!

=======================================================

Chapter 8

"Captain's log, Boingdate: 2001-20-20. After our harrowing
adventure and subsequent escape from the hands of the crazed
marketroids, I thought my men deserved a little R&R. So we've set
course for the planet of NewTekia. Now, NewTekia is a bountiful
garden paradise, perfect in every way, except for one tiny little
problem. . ."

-------

Jimm stared at the scintillating globe they were approaching.

"Message coming in Captain" reported Bryce.

"Put it on the screen ensign".

On the forward DigiViewer appeared the most majestically
beautiful woman anyone has ever seen. Her eyes darted like little
fires, her hair radiant as burnished gold.

"WOWEE ZOWEE, GETTA LOAD OF THAT STACKWARE!" hooted Jim.

Bryce added, "yeah, dig her form-factor!".

"Hi!" said the woman, "wel-wel-welcom to. . .Hi! welcome-come to
N-N-New-New. . . Hi! wel-welcome to-to N-NewTekia!"

"Captain, something appears to be wrong with our receiver".

"No ensign, that's the way they normally talk".

======================================================

Chapter 9

Choosing sanity over lust, the EnterBoing continued past
NewTekia, and sailed to the outer reaches of normalized-vector
space in search of future gags.

Meanwhile the surviving clones were sentenced to 80,386 years in
"marketing hell" where they were forced to sell Commodore Plus
Fours, C-16s and B128s to bank managers in Medford, Oregon.

And who says there aint no justice.

======================================================

Glossary :

OpenLook - A hoped for windowing standard being peddled by Sun
Microsystems. If defines the appearance of windows, menus, use of
sliders, spam, etc.

 Renderman - a curiously named 3-D rendering standard developed by
Pixar.





The above null-sense is Copyright 1988 by Mike Smithwick. If ya
wanna re-post it, ask me first. Thankyouverymuch.  %-)




--
*** mike (starship janitor) smithwick ***
"You can fool some of the people all of the time, or all of the people
 some of the time, but you can't fool Mom".
 [disclaimer : nope, I don't work for NASA, I take full blame for my ideas]
