Make IT Real! by Sander R.B.E. Beals (ebook reader ink .TXT) 📖

PC, to take away his fears, but obviously he had decided to be afraid of me, so he didn't take me up on that offer.

Just sticking to my guns in claiming not to have taken that picture, I eventually got rid of him, without having to apologize for cherishing beauty. For believe it or not, that I'll never do. Actually, I will apologize for almost anything I have done to anybody, but that does not mean that I feel guilty about it. And that's a tough cookie when people want you to feel guilty, but will not admit to themselves that that is actually what they want.....

4444AD, Day 237, 09:09, Home

Having enjoyed a first mug of coffee, I decide that today is best spent analyzing the MicroSD card from the Buddha that came in the pyramid. Since it was from an era some 2434 years in the past, I'd be hard pressed to find a machine that would be able to take it. But wait a minute! Didn't I bring home a laptop as well? It would almost certainly be able to access the stick, if I could get it to run.

I move to the study, where the marble pyramid is still standing right smack in the center of the desk. I close it up, having no interest in the remaining items inside it for now. Picking it up, I put it on the floor in the corner of the study, to make room for the laptop. You may have wondered how after 2400 years I'd still know what a laptop is, but then you have forgotten my occupational deformation: I'm a Guardian, I survey the past to make it better, and my particular scene of interest is the turn of the second millennium.

I grab the laptop from the couch, and put it on the desk. It flips open at the front, revealing a keyboard, touch pad, and a rectangular screen. Let's see, they didn't have full voice control back then, so the on switch will most likely be something obvious, like a button. It takes me a minute or so, to finally figure out that all the buttons on the top of the keyboard form one long chrome bar, which doesn't quite look like individual buttons. The tiny icons above the bar give it away though, and the semicircle with the vertical bar in it is a telltale sign of power. I press it, and anticipate nothing in particular. And that is exactly what happens: nothing!

Let me think, what else didn't they have back then? Where does its power come from? The advance of ZPF modules as independent power sources only came into play around 2033, so this 2010 laptop would probably have a Lithium-Ion cell which needs to be recharged every few hours to keep the system running. Simply finding it external power is doable, but why not solve the problem once and for all?

I close the laptop and flip it onto it's back. On the hinging side there is a seam which seems to indicate a part of it is detachable. That is probably the battery. Two sliding buttons along the seam invite one to unlock the thing, and with a bit of digital agility, I succeed in separating the two. It is a simple interface, with two larger contacts, and a number of smaller ones. My scanners unravel the electrical schematic of the thing, and find out that the nine cells in it would have given off eighteen volts at a little over four Amps.

I´ll have to take it to the workshop, to swap out the cells with suitable replacements. On my way through the kitchen, a second mug of coffee is easily acquired. In the workshop, I set myself to the task of opening the battery. The label talks about having authorized personnel do that, but I didn´t bring one, so it´ll have to be me. No screws, and the seams look like they have been glued together or something. I figure the fastest way in and out is like cutting the seams with a well-aimed laser beam, so it will come apart without much force. If I calculate the applied power precisely, the beam will have lost its power to melt the plastic right about the time it pierces the surface.

The laser cutter is set to auto detect, and traces around the battery as if it can actually see it, which in a sense it can. When its round is finished, I pick up the unit, and attempt to sever the two halves. A slight cracking sound, and they come apart. After that it´s easy to get the replacements in place, but then I wouldn´t want to bother you with that. So twelve minutes later I walk back into the study with a rejuvenated battery, that will deliver the required power for the next seven years or so. And that does not mean that the new cells can't deliver any more, but just that the ancient electronics in the battery will have worn out by then.

The laptop is still on its back, so I slide in the battery and put it on its feet again. This time the on switch does do something: with a beep, the screen displays a logo of the hardware manufacturer, followed by a very familiar logo. Nobody can study the beginning of the second millennium, and not know about the four wavy rectangles that signify the involvement of Microsoft with this machine.

I sip my coffee as the boot process runs to completion, and with a smile of content I conclude that this machine runs Windows 7, which at that point was Microsoft's finest. I have heard the rumors, but never actually operated a computer that ran it. So this should be quite an experience.

But let's not forget why I booted this in the first place: I retrieve the memory stick from it's hollowed out space in the bottom of the Buddha, and look for a place to stick it. No obvious openings on top, and the left side only has a small button. When I press it, I hear something whirring, and a drawer pops out. I look at it for a moment, but it is not what I'm looking for, so I push it closed again.

The right side does have various holes, for either rectangular or round plugs. Upon examination, I go for the front one, and attempt to slide in the stick. Nothing happens, so maybe I did it wrong? Taking out the stick again, I look inside the rectangular hole. Apparently there are some sort of contacts on the piece of plastic inside the metal rim, but they are facing down. I take the stick and insert it with its contacts facing up, to be met with a slight tingle, that indicates the computer has apparently found it.

It responds with a rectangle on its screen, which was why they called this Microsoft Windows. Inside it, I can see whatever is on this stick, or so it seems. At least the name of it spells Buddha, which eradicates all doubt. I spend the next two hours going through the data with a fine tooth comb, until Selina walks in on me to invite me to lunch. “You done yet, study head?”, she smiles, knowing I can totally get wrapped up in such pursuits of history, and their relevance to the Now...

“I think I just caught you redhanded...” I reply. “Who, me?” Selina laughs, because she has a fair idea of what I was up to. “Well no,” I reply, “but rather your past self, committing the then still unspeakable act of indecent exposure” We both laugh, because nowadays, that is hardly considered a 'crime'. Lots of androids show their natural self, be they silicon based or otherwise. Selina and I are RBE's, which means we look every bit like Real Biological Entities. So yes, we usually dress, but feel absolutely no shame when having to go naked for a change.

“Oeh, I'd love to see myself after lunch”, Selina giggles, looking at me with a real naughty twinkle in her eyes. We finish our “broodje gezond”, which is basically a bun, dressed with lettuce, ham and cheese, french brie, tomato and cucumber. Love the texture of it, especially if the bun has been baked nice and crispy. Of course, in our society, it isn't really baked, but the replicators do a real fine job since I applied my programmer's talent towards making the recipes perfect by my endless tweaking of them......

Sunday, March 21st, 2010, 15:42

Sometimes I feel like I don't belong here, like this time is too backward for me. Most probably I did that to myself, developing a keen interest in science fiction when I was a teenager. I could literally spend hours and hours reading every SciFi novel I could lay my grubby little hands on. Well, actually, they weren't grubby, and not even little, because I have hardly grown an inch since then. But that's beside the point. I read about five novels a week, so it really was an outrageous obsession, and it turned my neural net into something based on myriad views of the future.

How can a boy read that much, you say? Well, I used sleep time to do it. When my parents sent me to bed, I'd break out the adapter of my Texas Instruments 95 calculator, on which I'd mounted this small light bulb with a cardboard hood to keep the light from shining into my eyes. That way I could squeeze in about three or four more hours of prime reading time. Other kids dreamed, I dreamed wide awake!

Lots of people will say: “Hey, that's only fantasy, get real!”. Well, to me fact and fantasy are part and parcel of the One. Everything and everyone is connected, and that means that their thoughts as shared in literature, even if it is science fiction, are intricately linked too!

Just like for me everything seems to come together now, so will it be for everyone else. It's just that this fetish of mine, which is called future, has led me to develop certain talents, simply by doing what I love best. I loved to read, until my knowledge base was about complete. I still read, but hardly any complete novels. Nowadays it's just updates, short articles, and other loose facts. But then writing came into play, and I found I could feel totally at ease with expressing myself on the keyboard. Yes, on the keyboard, because for some reason I do not find as much pleasure in handwritten communication.

Also, there's this prowess with computers, simply because I grew up with them right by my side. Point is, it seems like all my talents are coming together in this one novel, and it feels absolutely right!

What will it turn out to be? I've always given myself the middle name “Second Time Right”, and there is already a Dutch novel out that bears my original birth name. So maybe this is the one?

If there's one thing I learned, it is that you are always best qualified to predict your own future. It is a basic mechanism of the Cosmos: since it's all vibration, and you are the source of your own vibration, you are most suited to determine what your vibration will be with regard to what you see around you. It is like the wave in a football stadium: It is far greater than the individual, but it consists of just individuals that choose to match their vibration to whatever happens. Nobody will notice if you choose to stay seated when the wave comes, but your reason for staying put may far exceed any reason that could be given for joining the fun. The important part is, it's your decision!

In the end though, you will always find yourself in the right place at the right time, to do whatever it is you feel called to do.

Afterthought: while cooking dinner, I heard Queensrijche's Queen