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======================Interfaceby Norm Hartman======================Copyright (c)1990 by Norm HartmanAlexlitwww.Alexlit.comScience Fiction---------------------------------NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Duplication or distribution of this work by email, floppy disk, network, paper print out, or any other method is a violation of international copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment.---------------------------------"The greatest advance in computer technology since the development of the integrated circuit!" Buzz Appleton thumped Magruder's desk, his roly-poly body bouncing up and down with enthusiasm. His tie was pulled loose from his open collar, and a row of pens and pencils threatened to spill out of his shirt pocket. "It'll make all of the other pocket calculators obsolete. And most of your desk models, too!""Hey, take it easy on the furniture," Tom Magruder protested, laughing. "You sound like you're really convinced, but you'll have to show me first. Your line of Mannfred calculators have always been real dogs, compared to some of your competitors. What's this new model got that the rest of the field doesn't? A life-time battery?""Better than that." Buzz Appleton sank back into the chair in front of Tom's desk. "The new Mannfred Mark Ten doesn't even _use_ batteries. It's powered by nothing but the user's own body heat. The power demand is next to nothing. And fast? You won't _believe_ how fast you can get answers with it. The _right_ answers.""Come on now, old buddy. Don't try to kid the kidders. My new Integrand Sixty-Three is about as fast as a pocket calculator can get. What does this Mark Ten look like, anyhow? You haven't even shown me a picture of it yet.""No pictures, no descriptions even. Not until you've watched what it can do. Tell you what we'll do; you set up a couple of good hard problems, and I'll race you to see who solves them first.""Don't be silly, Buzz!" Tom grinned at his old friend, shaking his head. "You know that I always could run rings around you on a pocket computer.""I mean it." Buzz made a criss-crossing motion in the region of his shirt pocket. "If you beat me, I'll buy you and Millie an evening on the town. Dinner, drinks, floor show, the whole works. You pick the spot. Any place in the whole Seattle area that the two of you decide on.""And if you win?""Oh, I'll win, all right. Okay, if I win, you agree to try a Mannfred Mark Ten for two weeks, free of charge.""How can I lose on a deal like that? You're on. My Integrand Sixty-Three against your Mannfred Mark Ten." He flipped on his intercom. "Miss Dow, would you have Frank come to my office?""Hey, no fair getting outside help," Buzz protested, looking doubtful for a moment."You said for me to set up the problems, but just to keep it fair, we'll have Frank make them up instead. Then he can act as referee for the two of us. How does that sound?""You're on!" Buzz settled back in his chair, looking smug. He had known Frank Farrell for years. Tom often said that without Frank to manage the field operations, Magruder Construction would still be just scraping along. Instead, with Tom in the office and Frank in the field, it had grown to be the most profitable firm of its size in the Pacific Northwest."Sure, I'll set them up for you. What kind of problems do you want?" Frank asked when he'd been told about the bet."Anything that Tom can solve on his machine," Buzz answered complacently. "Pick out the things he's most familiar with. Earth-work computations, time and materials, profit margins, equipment records, engineering, payroll, book-keeping. Anything!""That'll be fun." Frank grinned, his tanned face breaking into a million tiny wrinkles. "Give me a few minutes to set them up, and I'll throw you some beauties.""Do a good enough job, and you and Maxine are included in the celebration Tom's trying to win." Buzz pushed his brief case aside and leaned back in the office chair, his short legs stretched out as he made himself comfortable."Here's the first problem." Frank ran a sheet of paper covered with scribbles through the office copier, handing them each a print.Tom pulled out his pocket computer, studied the problem for a moment, and began punching keys. He had barely started when Buzz scribbled some figures across the bottom of his sheet of paper and handed it back to Frank. Tom stabbed his finger at the tiny keys, squinting at the display, made a mistake, and had to start over. Finally finished, he wrote down his answer and handed it over."The exact same answer, to six decimal places," Frank confirmed, handing them the next problem. This time, Buzz finished even more quickly. Tom stared at the identical answers, shaking his head in disgust."All right, how'd you do it? You didn't even have a calculator in your hands, and I know you didn't solve _that_ one in your head. Not you!""I did, and I didn't." Buzz grinned cheerfully, his round face lighting up like a Christmas cherub. "I told you that the Mannfred Mark Ten was really something new. It's got the first real man-machine interface. No clumsy keyboard, and no lighted display to read."He was fairly bouncing in his chair. Spilling papers out of his briefcase onto Tom's desk, he pawed through them to find the ones he wanted."Here it is!" he exulted, handing them each a glossy brochure. "We've reduced our new model to the size of a pair of dimes. You just tape them to your temples, once they've been tuned to your wave length or whatever it is. Or else, they can be slipped under the skin in a few seconds by your doctor, just like mine was. The units pick up your brain waves, interpreting what you see and hear. They can even pick up your own problems, if you'll frame them clearly enough in your mind. Then, the answers are projected back to you in the same way. Like I told you, your body heat provides the trickle of power they need, and nobody can steal them, either. Try it free for just two weeks, both of you. You'll be sold..."* * * *Back in the sterile comfort of his motel room, Buzz stretched out on the oversized bed and visualized the code words that put him in contact, via satellite, with his firm's massive central computer. When he sensed that he had his connection, he reported his success, mumbling names and numbers in a monotone."Report acknowledged," a similar monotone answered soundlessly. "Programming two consecutive five-minute pleasure periods."He relaxed on the bed, savoring the rush of exquisitely pleasurable sensations flooding his brain from the computer implants. Impulses like the almost indetectably tiny pleasure-pulse he received whenever he used them to solve a problem, only stronger, more lasting. He had heard that other salesmen were fanning out across the country, even across the seas to far-off lands.He had also heard rumors of secret government grants and classified research that had made the Mannfred Mark Ten possible, but he didn't really care. This was the reward he sought. Not money, not fame. Not even the certain knowledge that every implanted Mark Ten insured the existence of one more happy, hard-working, _patriotic_ American.-----------------------Visit www.Alexlit.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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