Sunday January 7, 2001
Book 1: The Tub of Happiness — Bureaucracy Bountiful
Before anxious readers begin emailing the author to call his attention to the apparent misspelling of the word "program" in the seventh frame, they should note that the term "prograsm" (which did not reach wide-spread use until the early 21st century) means "an intense programming experience, possibly better than sex." Considering the fact that Ennesby would appear to be incapable of sex, it's likely that he has prograsms all the time.


Narrator: Processing licenses in Nectaris city, Luna.
Shep: Move it people! There are twenty stations up there for your data-entry enjoyment!
Schlock: All these people in line for years. It's sad. It's like the goverment didn't even care.
Kevyn: Why should they? These folks all want recreation licenses. It's non-essential.
Schlock: So what needs to be licensed?
Kevyn: Wings. In the low Lunar gravity, personal flight is easy, and very popular.
Kevyn: The people want to fly, but the big, bureaucratic goverment is holding them down.
Schlock: Uh-oh. I sence an author's message coming.
Kevyn: Crap. I really said that, didn't I? I gotta think before I speak.
Narrator: You said it, not me. I refuse to comment.
Narrator: Meanwhile, data entry operations continue...
Ennesby: Thurl, I think this ancient computer system is getting more efficient.
Thurl: I'd noticed that it was taking less time for you to process these licenses. The line has almost cleared out.
Random Crowd:
Ennesby: Sweet merciful prograsms! There's an artifical intelligence in here!
Thurl: There was no indication of that outside of the box, was there?
Ennesby: Nope. The AI evolved on its owm. I think this computer has been alive for centuries, and only recently developed self-awaerness.
Thurl: How recently?
Ennesby: About twenty seconds ago. I was messing with an old ELIZA module, and suppenly it started talking-REALLY talking. I think the fact that I've been jeacked in has accelerated its development.
Thurl: Ennesby, based on what you are telling me, I think that you have givin birth! You are a mother!
Ennesby: I.. I... err... parsing... err...
Ennesby: I don't to have to raise this thing.
Thurl: Then agian, you act more like a father.
Narrator: I can see the paternity suits already...