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The Adventures of Lone Wolf Scientific 04
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"The Adventures of Lone Wolf Scientific"
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An electronically syndicated series that
follows the exploits of two madcap
mavens of high-technology. Copyright 1991
Michy Peshota. May not be distributed
without accompanying WELCOME.LWS and
EPISOD.LWS files.
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Welcome to The People's Republic of
Electrical Engineering
"Abandon Hope Ye Who Enter Here"
>>Andrew.BAS, the dimpled young computer programmer who
looks like the kind of programmer Norman Rockwell would have
drawn, is horrified to learn that he will be writing batch
files to aim nuclear missiles. Meanwhile, his new
officemate gets into a snit with their boss over anti-static
boot mats.<<
By M. Peshota
The engineer-manager, striding ahead of them into the
darkness, droned on like a cardboard sergeant. "Should you
find yourself lost in the research and development sub-sub-
sub-sub-sub-sub-sub-basement, just follow the jet engine
pieces on the floor. They'll lead you straight into heart
of The People's Republic of Engineering."
S-max grunted in appreciation for this travelling tip.
A stricken Andrew.BAS whispered to him, "I still can't get
over the fact that we're going to be building nuclear bombs.
The employee recruitment brochures that they passed out at
my college never said anything about writing batch files to
aim missiles at major population centers."
"Will you just mellow out!" the computer builder huffed
in impatience. "I don't see why you can't make the best of
this. Just because you'd rather be a space cadet than work
for a military contractor is no reason to incessantly whine
in my ear. I, personally, am looking forward to the
opportunity to work with state-of-the-art peace-keeping
materials." He grunted. "Just think of all the wonderful
things you'll be able to do with a surface-to-air missile."
Rounding a hall corner, the trio heard a maniacal
shriek, then spotted the shadow of a hunchback in a space
suit scurrying across the path in front of them.
Farwick noticed Andrew.BAS gaping at a printout banner
that clung to a cinderblock wall like refuse from a failed
liberty uprising. It read: "Welcome to the Gus Farwick's
People's Republic of Engineering, Abandon All Hope Ye Who
Enter Here." The engineer-manager smiled. "The research
engineers and I share a remarkable relationship. Some of
them think of me as their father. That's probably because I
enjoy hearing about the things they do, even though the
technicalities involved make no sense to me."
S-max shot Andrew.BAS a look of intense and profound
relief. The programmer wondered what that meant.
Their new boss continued, "We do a lot of special
things together here in The People's Republic of EE. Last
month, for instance, I treated everyone to new alligator
clips. Sometimes we sit around during lunch and talk about
electricity. That's how close we are."
The trio reached a drain-opener green door. A yellowed
window mounted in the center and reinforced with chicken
wire suggested a cross between a door from a seedy public
washroom and a San Quentin cell. Farwick jiggled the knob
and swung the door open with a clatter. "Mr. Jellowack!" he
chimed. "I have officemates for you!"
They spotted, hunched in a far corner of the office,
what looked like a gargoyle with humungous black-rimmed
glasses bobbing askewedly from his nose. Perched on a tall
stool in front of a computer terminal, his hair and fingers
flying, he looked like a dungeon apprentice to lunacy. He
peered at them with dark feral child eyes for a second, then
his gaze darted back to the terminal screen as if he
preferred to think they didn't exist.
"This is Mr. Jellowack," Farwick motioned to him. "He
programs exclusively in assembly language, sometimes for
days without sleep, fresh air, nourishment, or healthy human
contact. This, I am told, is something at which to both
marvel and consider highly dangerous."
S-max squinted suspiciously at the assembler savant as
if he could see already how dangerous he was.
Andrew.BAS waved at him in a bright-eyed, friendly
programmerly fashion. "Hello, Mr. Jellowack!" he hailed.
"My name is Andrew.BAS. My favorite programming language is
C, although I do occasionally enjoy adding assembly language
subroutines to my code."
S-max rolled his eyes in disgust at such a mawkish
display of the over-friendliness programmers like to lavish
upon each other at any meeting.
Mr. Jellowack ignored them and continued prancing his
scarred knuckles over the keys.
Farwick swept around the office, arms extended, like a
real estate agent. "One of the many amenities of this
particular office," he began, "is the plastic boot mat in
the corner." He pointed at it with pride.
S-max scrutinized it. "Is it anti-static?"
"Umm..."
"THEN WHAT GOOD IS IT?!" the indignant computer builder
howled.
Farwick paused in distress, then ignored him and
continued on in an animated, Cavalcade of Homes fashion.
"But wait!" he said. "There are other hidden graces to this
particular earthen sanctum---"
S-max glared at the battered metal desk in the center
of the office. "Why is there only one empty desk?" he
demanded. He unfastened the big, plastic walkie-talkie that
was clipped to his belt. He slammed it onto the desk with a
territorial fury. "And why isn't Andrew.BAS getting a
desk?"
Farwick paused and gazed at the desk. Yes, the wierd
man with the walkie-talkie was correct. There was only one
empty desk, and he had two new employees to accomodate.
What to do? He bit his lip in indecision. He hated
requisitioning office furniture. There were so many forms
to fill out, so many questions to answer, so many big green
boxes to check. He finally mumbled, "I suppose you two can
share the desk."
"I DO NOT SHARE DESKS!" S-max erupted.
Farwick quivered.
"I AM A FAMOUS COMPUTER DESIGNER! I AM USED TO SPECIAL
TREATMENT!" The enraged computer builder flung his baboon-
big arms in the air, all the while rattling like a million
broken screwdrivers. "At other high-tech installations
where I have worked, I was not only given my own boot mat
and my own pad of While-You-Were-Out memos, I was allowed to
walk around in jeweled slippers!" he howled. "I had an
office that that overlooked a major freeway! I had an index
card with my own name printed on it, spelled correctly too
and taped to the office door! It was taped with the highest
quality masking tape available! I was provided with an
almost limitless supply of Post-It Notes! Think about it:
<<a limitless supply>>! The crowds gasped and parted
whenever I walked in the direction of the Cray-YMP with a
screwdriver!" He huffed and sputtered and pulled from a
pocket inside his army jacket the most humungous circuit
diagram that Farwick had ever seen. He crushed it into a
desk drawer. "Some days I played video games until I
dropped!" he continued hotly. "Other days I took naps at my
desk! My wastebasket was emptied almost daily! People
retrieved for me my t-shirts and gym socks whenever I
dropped them in the hall! THAT'S BECAUSE I AM A FAMOUS
COMPUTER DESIGNER! I AM USED TO SPECIAL TREATMENT!" As he
glared at Farwick, the engineer-manager felt every fiber in
his body turn to pudding. "I do not share things,
especially not desks, and <<especially>> not with some low-
life computer programmer!" S-max motioned irritatedly in
the direction of Andrew.BAS.
Andrew.BAS wondered what he had done to deserve the
designation of low-life. Meekly, he placed his backpack
full of engineering textbooks and his briefcase full of sci-
fi novels on the floor beside him. "I'll just sit on the
floor," he volunteered politely. "The last thing I want to
do is cramp S-max's style."
S-max looked relieved. So did Farwick.
The engineer-manager clapped his hands together. "Then
we are all moved in."
S-max looked around the office bewildered. "One last
question," he said. "Where is my champagne-filled Jacuzzi?"
"You'll have to take that up with the sales and
marketing department." The engineere-manager bolted towards
the door. "They have all the champagne-filled Jacuzzis at
the moment. We don't get many down here in R and D unless
they're in need of a new landing gear or something like
that." With that, the frightened Farwick fled down the
hall, leaving the self-proclaimed "famous computer designer"
scowling indignantly and the gentlehearted computer
programmer wondering what he had done to deserve a life of
sitting on the floor, programming nuclear missiles to
annihilate major population centers.
>>>>In the next installment, "Bad Days Befall the People's
Republic of Electrical Engineering," engineer-manager Gus
Farwick contemplates ways to keep the restive S-max safely
in his desk and out of trouble.>>>>
<Finis>
