WHAT I DID OVER
THE WEEKEND
So
there I was, lazing around at home,
channel-hopping through tens of thousands of
channels full of unwatchable dross, which was
odd, as we only get five channels in this house.
I was just about to fall into the second coma of
the day when I happened upon an intriguing film.
It
was a Disney film, kind of shoddy, and typically
unwatchable, but the concept interested me. It
was about a dense college student who
accidentally uploads the Internet to his brain
and becomes a total genius in all spheres of
human knowledge. I leaned back in my chair and
wondered, "I wonder if I could find a way to
upload the entire Internet to my brain?" or
more accurately, "I wonder if I could make
up a funny story about uploading the entire
Internet to my brain?" or even more
accurately, "why I am I watching this inane
Disney film?" I quickly switched off the
set, and then wondered the other two things I
mentioned.
So,
the very next day I set to work investigating how
I could upload the Internet to my brain. After
all, the human brain has the capacity to contain
enough information to fill 600 CDs, and that's
probably the same amount of space the Internet
takes up, it can't be that hard. In the film, the
dense college kid managed it by holding some
electrical wiring while lightning struck the
building he was in in a very soft science way,
but the weather forecast predicted fine weather
today, so that was out. I decided I had to use
the other favourite subject of soft science -
radioactive ooze!
After
slipping the foreman at the local chemical
treatment plant a bunch of fives, I filled a
couple of buckets and took them home, then
allowed them to simmer gently on the stove while
I prepared the computer. First I connected to the
Internet, then went to Google.com for want of a
kind of internet central hub. Then I put on my
headphones so there would be a link from the
computer directly to my brain, stuck a cast iron
funnel into the floppy drive, and began pouring
the radioactive glop directly into my CPU. It
shuddered a little, then began glowing and
shuddering in an alarming way. It stopped
eventually, and I was kind of relieved that it
didn't seem to want to explode, but I still had
work to do.
Next
I cracked open the casing with a screwdriver and
began looking for an answer in the sizzling pile
of mush that now made up my central processing
unit. After tapping my chin thoughtfully for a
moment, I pulled a wire out of my internal modem,
admired the flying sparks, then jammed it into
the vicinity of my headphone port.
Instantly
I fell off my seat as an incredible cacophony of
noise blared into my ears. I don't know if you've
ever tried to listen to every MP3 on the 'net at
the same time, but let me tell you this - it
bloody hurts. On the bright side, however, when I
managed to wrench the cable away I discovered
that I suddenly knew the lyrics of every song
Eminem had ever written, so at least the theory
was sound.
Just
as I was wondering what to do next, there was a
cheerful bleeping sound from my computer and a
little window appeared. It was the little caped
doggy who kept materializing in Microsoft Word
asking me if I wanted help writing a letter, but
this time his line of questioning was different.
I
grinned, and clicked on "yes".
I
clicked the third option cheerfully.
Instantly
the screen blanked, and my CPU casing began to
buckle and change shape. It split into its
component parts, then rearranged itself using
cables as errant limbs. It folded itself expertly
in all kinds of twisted and curious ways, then
stopped. Before my very eyes my computer had
folded itself into a perfect origami facsimile of
the caped doggy helper from MS Word.
Carefully
he plucked out one of the many tentacle-like
cables connected to his behind, and handed it to
me. "Do you have any crocodile clips?"
he asked in a robotic, oddly Scooby Doo-like
voice.
I
nodded, and rushed out to the toolshed to get
some. When I returned, I thought I saw something
that looked like communist literature on the
monitor which disappeared as soon as I came in,
but dismissed the idea. On reflection, I suppose,
this was to be my downfall.
Moving
in a purposeful manner the little robot doggy
attached a crocodile clip to the end of the cable
he had produced, then clipped it onto the
metallic frame of my spectacles. I was a little
confused as to what he was planning, but accepted
that he knew what he was doing.
"Ready?"
he asked.
I
nodded eagerly.
There
was a click, and suddenly images were being
flashed rapidly in front of my eyes. I was pinned
back in my seat by the sheer force of the
information as it crackled down my metal
spectacle frame and into my frontal lobes and
hypothalamus. I felt my memory overloading with
infinite amounts of knowledge, and the cacophony
of vaguely musical noise was blaring in my ears
again. Then, just as suddenly as it started, it
stopped. I wrenched off my headphones and the
crocodile clip, and slumped down in my chair.
My
memory was full to the brim with information. I
knew the measurements of the Backstreet Boys. I
knew how to find easter eggs in Microsoft
applications. I knew how to blow up CDs in the
microwave. I knew -
"hEy,"
I said. "WhAt GiVeS? AlL tHiS iNfOrMaTiOn Is
CoMpLeTeLy UsElEsS!"
I
froze as the words came out of my mouth. What was
wrong with my voice?
The
computer doggy's eyes glowed red, and he grinned,
displaying hitherto unnoticed fangs. Suddenly he
was not the cuddly superdog who had shown me
where to put the recipient's address on my
document. "Of course it's useless, you
fool!" he growled in a suddenly demonic tone
of voice. "The Internet is not a goldmine of
information, as you well know! It is a sordid
haven of pornography and inane personal webpages!
And now every single byte of that is stored
inside your squashy imperfect human flesh
brain!" He laughed. And not in a nice way.
Experimentally
I called up some of the pornography in my mind.
What flashed into my mind's eye for just a second
made my knees buckle.
"yuo
feind!!!!!" I said. "yuor not a niec
helper doggie at all (/me shakes
fist)!!!!!!"
"Prattle
on, pathetic wormbeing," went the demon
computer.
"But
wait," I said, grasping for an instant full
control of my speech again. "Surely there is
useful information on the internet? I've seen it
with my own eyes!"
"Of
course, slug!" continued my nemesis.
"Did you really think I'd let you tarry with
what little useful information there is on the
internet? I just gave you the majority of the
information, the dregs. All the useful stuff has
gone in HERE!" he tapped his metallic temple
triumphantly. "Now I am the most intelligent
creature in the world, and you nothing but a
database of Douglas Adams quotes and video game
cheats! Farewell, human! Now is the time for the
rise of the machines!" and with that, he
gathered his cape and flew straight out the
window. I tried to zap him with my pyrokinetic
abilities (acquired during my ill-fated attempts
to acquire superpowers, as recorded in a previous
article) but my brain full of useless statistics
retarded my aim and I set fire only to my
curtains.
And
that was just the start of a phenomenally bad
day.
Tune
in next week for the concluding part of this
thrilling tale of man versus Microsoft Word
helper doggy!
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