---------------------------------------------- "The Adventures of Lone Wolf Scientific" ------------------------------------------ An electronically syndicated series that follows the exploits of two madcap mavens of high-technology. Copyright 1991 Michy Peshota. All rights reserved. May not be distributed without accompanying WELCOME.LWS and EPISOD.LWS files. ----------------------- EPISODE #13 The "Peace-Keeping Tool" Gets a Humane User-Interface >>>>S-max implores his officemate to write a new user- interface for The Last Words Bomb. When the programmer refuses, expressing his reluctance to use his programming talent to better an "instrument of death," the computer builder explains to him the concept of a "peace-keeping tool."<<<< By M. Peshota Andrew.BAS was surprised to see his rambunctious officemate reasonably well-behaved for an unprecedented stretch of nearly two weeks. He remained seated in his desk chair for most of the day like he was supposed to. He listened to the endless hours worth of Dingready & Derringdo Aerospace employee motivation tapes that their boss supplied him with. He even stopped gasping and sputtering incessantly about the horrific revenge he planned to take upon their boss, Gus Farwick, for tricking him into rolling up kite string. The programmer no longer worried that the restive S-max was about to unleash some retaliatory mischief that would get them both fired. In fact, it was the furthest thing from his mind when the latter bustled over to him one afternoon with a rather intriguing programming problem. "Andrew.BAS, I must have your help." The computer builder sighed in such a way that it almost sounded like a command. A printout was heaped in his arms and he dropped it, like a giant, dirty, unravelling spitball, into the lap of the programmer who was sitting on the floor beneath the coat tree. "This," he said, pointing to it, "is a problem only you can solve for it requires intimate knowledge of all the most half-baked programming languages." The programmer took a dogeared corner of the coffee- stained printout and examined it. A brown banana peel fell from one of the printout's leaves. "This looks like it was pulled from a garbage can." "Well, yes, it did inhabit one for a while." The computer builder snorted in despair. "But I have since calmed down immeasurably and have had second thoughts about this ridiculous program's usefulness." He grunted. "I need you to write a simple user-interface for it, something that I will be able to use. At the moment, my vocabulary of expletives is not large enough to permit me to spend more than ten minutes--maybe fifteen tops with this aggravating muddle." "What is it?" "It is software." "Software for what?" "A guided missile." Andrew.BAS looked up in alarm. "Smart bomb software, huh?" His face grew grave. "I don't know if I care to use my programming talents to further the aims of over-financed militarists who resolve their problems through mass destruction." "No, no, Andrew.BAS, you've got the concept and the terminology all wrong!" S-max wagged a finger at him. "The missile that this foolish software purportedly controls is not a weapon." "No?" "It is a <>. "Hmm..." "That's right. A peace-keeping tool. Before the missile explodes it writes a message in the sky--" "A message in the sky? Really? "Yes, it writes a communique in the clouds with various colors of smoke that are all VGA compatible and can all be software controlled." "Well, that's pretty neat." "Yes, it <> neat." The computer builder rolled his eyes at how easy it was to impress child-hearted programmers such as his officemate. "It writes messages like 'Please lay down your arms, dear friends, and we will lay down ours too,' or 'We are all one happy people, sharing alike in life's bounty and joy, so let us not fight anymore. Come over to our place tonight and watch "Star Trek" reruns with us. We will provide the microwave popcorn.'" He grunted. Andrew.BAS's eyes shifted disbelievingly. "And it doesn't write messages like 'Die, Die Fascist Sheep-Sucking Worm'?" "No, of course not. Only polite, peaceable messages." "Hmm..." "It's a fact! If the people on the ground attentively read and follow the instructions that the missile prints in the sky prior to detonation, they will save their population from further holocaust. That's why it's called a peace- keeping tool." "But the bomb will still explode, right?" "Well, yes, the bomb will still explode." "Then it's an instrument of death." "No, no, it's a peace-keeping tool, you fool!" S-max seized the programmer by the waifish shoulders and shook him. "Haven't you been listening to me? <> Now listen: if the doomed and helpless populace on the ground follow the advice written high in the sky by the bomb, they can be assured that hundreds of thousands of other bigger bombs won't follow. Can you understand that? Are you aware of the difference between acceptable levels of human casualties and total nuclear annihiliation? Or did they forget to teach you that important concept in software school?!" Andrew.BAS shuddered. "Peace-keeping tool, huh?" He glanced in revulsion at the printout. He would have continued the debate over peace-keeping tool versus instrument of death, but his eyes caught on several interesting passages of code. He unravelled several leaves of the printout. "This looks like it's written in INDO- GOSUB," he said in amazement. "It's been years since I've seen anything in INDO-GOSUB." "Yes, there is a lot of INDO-GOSUB in those troubled lines. There is also profuse use of a programming language that seems to be called VAX USERS DO IT BETTER. It is scribbled all over the margins." The computer builder grunted. "Although I'm not much of an authority on the rude art of programming (someone of my intellect doesn't need to be), it seems to me that this is something in which you could use a lot of vectors." "Vectors!?" the programmer started. He had a weakness for vectors. He unwound more of the spitball-like printout. "I bet it would be a lot of fun writing a user interface for software like this," he mused with a smile. "Yes, it <> be fun!" his officemate hurried to add, rolling his eyes once more at the simple pleasures of easily beguiled programmers. "And think of it, everytime a helpless agrarian village was not completely decimated because of this bomb, you would be one of the faceless technocrats most responsible." But Andrew.BAS wasn't listening. He was already formulating a plan for how he would make this snarl of computer code, riddled with bewitching ancient tongues like INDO-GOSUB and requiring profligate use of vectors, easy for people to use. "I'll give it a prompt that says 'CRUISE:' like in a banner program, you know..." he said to himself, as his bossy officemate seized him by the wrist. He dragged him to his feet, jerked him and the printout over to his desk and sat them down behind it. "...and maybe a scorebox which will tabulate the number of direct hits--ouch!" The programmer bolted to his feet. "No need for panic. You only sat on rusty nails." The computer builder grasped the back of the aircraft cockpit seat covered with fake zebra fur that served as his computer chair and shook it vigorously like an apple tree. Half a hardware store clattered to their feet. He returned the chair to the floor and pressed the programmer back into it. Sitting at the computer builder's ramshackle desk, in front of a lopsided, flame-singed computer terminal, the programmer looked like a blue-eyed child about to be sacrificed to a Rube Goldberg device. "Can we lose the fuzzy dice?" he said, nodding toward the fur cubes dangling at the top of the screen. "Good as gone." S-max jerked them from beneath the "Honk If You Want Complete Schematics" bumper sticker. "And the moose horns?" He pointed toward the antlers that sprouted from the top of the terminal. "That's where I draw the line." As the programmer fastidiously retooled the smart bomb's software over the next three days, the computer builder hovered over his shoulder watching, like an impatient Wookie. He brought him his meals, he brought him cans of soda, he brought him a change of clothes so that he wouldn't have to stop programming and go home at night. At least once an hour, he inquired, with a politess so gawky it sounded as if the computer builder had never been polite before, when Andrew.BAS would be finished giving the software a new user-interface. Finally, one day, the programmer stood up, pointed to the screen, and said, "Do you see that prompt?" The prompt he was referring to was a flashing arrow. It was preceeded by the world 'CRUISE:' S-max hurried over and squinted at it. "It's a prompt just like the kind you find in software for printing banners. I assume you are familiar with how banner programs present you with a prompt that reads 'BANNER:' and after it you type what you want the banner to read." The computer builder nodded. "Well, this works the same way. The guided missile software prompts you with the word 'CRUISE:'--as in cruise missile. After it, you type what you want the missile to write in the sky." "That's all there is to it?" "Yes, that's all." S-max pounced on the keys, his knuckles spread like attacking claws. "So if I type 'Prepare for Total and Unmitigated Nuclear Annihilation, You Bloody Cur!'--" He began typing slowly, with two fingers. "--the missile will blaze that across the sky?" "Well...theoretically, yes." "And if I type in 'You Are Nothing But a Bunch of Motherless Warthogs, Waiting to Become a Feast of Vultures,'--" The computer builder began tapping in 'warthogs.' "--the missile will write that in the sky too?" "Umm...yes, theoretically." "And if I key in 'Gus Farwick is Nothing But a Testosterone-less Simp with Eel Toes for Brains' the bomb will blaze that truth in the clouds?" "Hmm..." Andrew.BAS was afraid something like this would happen. "Theoretically," he said. "The software is equipped to write things for many occasions." "You are a genius, Andrew.BAS!" S-max clasped him by the shoulders. "This software is so simple even I can use it! Look!" He returned his apeish knuckles to the keyboard. "I can type 'Gus Farwick Has a Mind of Shredded Tires and a Soul of Wet Noodles," and the missile will spell that in the sky!" He tapped in the first three letters of 'shredded tires' with relish. "I can type 'Gus Farwick is a Needle-Nosed Ninnyhammer' and those very words will also be writ in the clouds for all to see. I tell you, Andrew.BAS, you have transformed the world of peace-keeping tools!" The programmer frowned. The computer builder was tapping in the word 'ninnyhammer,' when he suddenly stopped and said, "Wait a minute. Why can't I finish typing 'ninnyhammer'?" He pointed bewilderedly to the red flashing computer screen. "The screen is pulsing and the software is telling me that I made a 'Language Parser Error.' What does this mean, Andrew.BAS?" "I wrote into the software a language parser," the programmer explained. "It prohibits you from entering any of 137,542 derogatory words, phrases, and euphemisms--most of which are taken from your daily vocabulary--" "You what?!" "The feature is designed to prevent you--or anyone else--from programming the bomb to skywrite something in a time of war that you might later regret having said." "Can I at least program it to skywrite 'scumball'?" S- max began keying in the phrase. "No, I'm afraid you can't." "How 'bout 'meatball brains'?" "I'm afraid that's outlawed too." "How 'bout testosterone-less simp'?" "Also verbotten." S-max's typing grew fast and frantic. "Can I enter them in Polish?" "No, you can't enter them in any language. I've built into the software invective glossaries for 728 foreign languages, including Urdu, to ensure that no one mistakenly programs the smart bomb to skywrite words they may later regret having said." "You mean I won't be able to make the missile spell 'eel toes' in the clouds whenever I need it to?!!" The computer builder gazed in horror at the red flashing screen as long rows of error messages scrolled across it. "I'm afraid not. As I told you, I built the parser around your daily vocabulary--" S-max gasped, "You lunatic!" Before the Cub Scoutish programmer had a chance to finish gathering up his programming tools, the enraged computer builder seized him by the shirt collar, jerked him out of the zebra skin- covered chair, and bustled him back across the office and deposited him on the dirty floor beneath the coat tree from whence he came. "And don't move until I tell you to, you troublemaker!" he blustered. Shuffling back to his desk, a dark scowl creasing his face, the thwarted missile launcher grumped, "This is what I get for choosing a brains-in-a- function-key programmer to collaborate with me on my greatest hopes, plans, and ambitions." He grunted in despair. >>>In the next episode of "The Adventures of Lone Wolf Scientific," S-max tries to foil the language parser that his programmer officemate has cleverly crafted into the smart bomb's software.<<<<