contents.html      Prev: Chapter 2. Author's Scream Of Consciousness
* * * *

            Chapter 3. The Dream Of A Dead Man


September 17th, 2079.

Greetings from my grave. A virtual robot? Yes, but not a clockwork orange; - I still have free will and am able to choose a few things.

When I was a human, Noemi didn't think I was a pompous, overblown windbag, who took himself far too seriously. She had more than enough laughter, and nuttiness, for both of us. She took weeks to find herself on Google Earth, but nonetheless believed in my cause and thought it was no accident that I was the one to save Ingrid's source code for all you Jimekist revolutants. You see, "The Code", in the kernel of the Ingrid freeware, is philosophically opposed to capitalism. Likewise, so were most of the world's other important linear programming codes, but most were all hamstrung by capitalist contracts. Some few were locked up at Los Alamos. And yet some very few were as then still free to mankind, and lastly those priceless systems like Ingrid.

I always felt that the wisdom of western civilization was distilled into "The Code"; - Slater being the protégé of the god of statistics, Charles Spearman, the father of Factor Analysis who was born 216 years ago. Nor was it incidental that Ingrid was just the ideal sort of "silent weapon" for BB to use in the long Quiet War, now running for 125 years. Spearman died today at the end of World War II, 134 years ago.

Chapter 3a. The Curse Of Ingrid