Angels - 05/Jul/2012
As usual, it started with delegation. Arthur was at the end of the chain. The brief: build three 'Angels'. Like "Charlie's Angels". The implied brief, they'd better beat anything Stellvia had.
Arthur had some history of success with handwavium and AI. His clock-radio sang to him every morning, with the perfect tune to wake him up - all he had to do in return was compliment its singing. He was a reasonable electronic engineer. And, he knew a few people who knew a few people, if you know what I mean. They were starting to get nasty about his gambling debts...
His first attempts, with store dummies, and photographs of the original three Charlie's Angels pasted onto their faces totally failed. Not a twitch. Though, he sometimes wondered if they moved when he wasn't looking. Interestingly, they didn't come to pieces any more, and you could only pose them in realistic looking postures. He'd sold them, on the quiet to a clothing store, who seemed to be doing pretty good, these days.
Trawling the Internet, he read everything on handwavium and AI. Most AIs seemed to live in waved PCs, often as part of cars or vans. Not much use to him. But, didn't he have some old PC mother boards? And, apparently you could influence their skills, by feeding the handwavium with books and other media.
Conscious of the pressure, and that he'd get no more advances for 'materials', Arthur combed the second-hand shops and markets of Dublin. He wasn't quite sure what he was looking for, so he went by instinct. And price. A few late night drinks with science fiction fans had helped. Speculating on the practical problems of living in space.
With a bit of luck, a friend in a sex shop told him about a trick with handwavium and sex dolls. He tracked that down, and burned his last favour with an ex-girlfriend into the occult. Now he had the dolls, three wigs, three motherboards he'd last used in 2000, and six buckets of handwavium. He'd even scavenged a trio of hard drives, from a skip at the side of a school.
Piles of videos had been dissolved in the handwavium. At least two tapes from the original "Charlie's Angels" series in each of three buckets; he'd picked-up some nearly intact boxed sets. A Bruce Lee "Enter The Dragon" tape in each for the martial arts. James Bond for the spy action.
It occurred to him he should look up 'Stellvia'. It seemed to be an obscure Jap cartoon, with lots of cute girls in short skirts doing things in space. Strange hair colour, but that gave him the idea of a blonde, a brunette and a red-head wig. No luck finding anything on that, second-hand. Cheap enough, anyhow. But, each girl was good at different things, though they were all pilots. So, a pirated copy of "Microsoft Flight Simulator" in the handwavium for each of them.
He'd labelled three buckets 'blonde, 'brown' and 'red'. Red got "Wild Wild West" and a home video full of science stuff from "Discovery Channel". Brown got a load of accountancy, admin and business legal training videos he'd been lucky enough to find in another skip. Blonde, he'd thought a lot about, and reluctantly rejected the 'adult' idea, so she got "Legally Blonde" and "Terminator 2", because he'd really liked Sarah Conner in that.
The other three buckets were all the same. He'd dissolved tatty "Legion of Superheroes" comic books in them, for the invisible spacesuits and the flight rings. Also, old Golden Age science fiction, with women in transparent space suits on the covers. Well. Black-and-white printouts of them, from the Internet.
Arthur had a good feeling about this, so he went the whole hog, and rented a (cheap) hotel room. He laid a salvaged plastic sheet on the queen-sized bed, put on his spray mask, and did all the work there. An hour later he'd finished, and was sitting in the cramped en suit bathroom, in the dark, with his suitcase and six empty buckets. Physically and mentally crossing his fingers.
"What happened?" came a woman's voice, from out in the room. "Something died in my mouth", replied another voice. "Urrg. Why are we lying on a plastic sheet?" said a third. 'Opps' thought Arthur.
"Pay attention", he said, in his best 'Charlie' voice - he'd practised for hours. "You're going undercover, deep undercover. All three of you. No contact with anyone you've previously known. And, this time you're going out into space."
He took a breath, "You'll be working for the boss of the O'Neill space station. You need to appear totally loyal to him. It could be a long time, but I'll contact you with further instructions. All your papers and tickets you already have."
"Is that clear? Now, get going!"
"Yes, Charlie!"
--
"It is the business of the future to be dangerous" - Hawkwind
As usual, it started with delegation. Arthur was at the end of the chain. The brief: build three 'Angels'. Like "Charlie's Angels". The implied brief, they'd better beat anything Stellvia had.
Arthur had some history of success with handwavium and AI. His clock-radio sang to him every morning, with the perfect tune to wake him up - all he had to do in return was compliment its singing. He was a reasonable electronic engineer. And, he knew a few people who knew a few people, if you know what I mean. They were starting to get nasty about his gambling debts...
His first attempts, with store dummies, and photographs of the original three Charlie's Angels pasted onto their faces totally failed. Not a twitch. Though, he sometimes wondered if they moved when he wasn't looking. Interestingly, they didn't come to pieces any more, and you could only pose them in realistic looking postures. He'd sold them, on the quiet to a clothing store, who seemed to be doing pretty good, these days.
Trawling the Internet, he read everything on handwavium and AI. Most AIs seemed to live in waved PCs, often as part of cars or vans. Not much use to him. But, didn't he have some old PC mother boards? And, apparently you could influence their skills, by feeding the handwavium with books and other media.
Conscious of the pressure, and that he'd get no more advances for 'materials', Arthur combed the second-hand shops and markets of Dublin. He wasn't quite sure what he was looking for, so he went by instinct. And price. A few late night drinks with science fiction fans had helped. Speculating on the practical problems of living in space.
With a bit of luck, a friend in a sex shop told him about a trick with handwavium and sex dolls. He tracked that down, and burned his last favour with an ex-girlfriend into the occult. Now he had the dolls, three wigs, three motherboards he'd last used in 2000, and six buckets of handwavium. He'd even scavenged a trio of hard drives, from a skip at the side of a school.
Piles of videos had been dissolved in the handwavium. At least two tapes from the original "Charlie's Angels" series in each of three buckets; he'd picked-up some nearly intact boxed sets. A Bruce Lee "Enter The Dragon" tape in each for the martial arts. James Bond for the spy action.
It occurred to him he should look up 'Stellvia'. It seemed to be an obscure Jap cartoon, with lots of cute girls in short skirts doing things in space. Strange hair colour, but that gave him the idea of a blonde, a brunette and a red-head wig. No luck finding anything on that, second-hand. Cheap enough, anyhow. But, each girl was good at different things, though they were all pilots. So, a pirated copy of "Microsoft Flight Simulator" in the handwavium for each of them.
He'd labelled three buckets 'blonde, 'brown' and 'red'. Red got "Wild Wild West" and a home video full of science stuff from "Discovery Channel". Brown got a load of accountancy, admin and business legal training videos he'd been lucky enough to find in another skip. Blonde, he'd thought a lot about, and reluctantly rejected the 'adult' idea, so she got "Legally Blonde" and "Terminator 2", because he'd really liked Sarah Conner in that.
The other three buckets were all the same. He'd dissolved tatty "Legion of Superheroes" comic books in them, for the invisible spacesuits and the flight rings. Also, old Golden Age science fiction, with women in transparent space suits on the covers. Well. Black-and-white printouts of them, from the Internet.
Arthur had a good feeling about this, so he went the whole hog, and rented a (cheap) hotel room. He laid a salvaged plastic sheet on the queen-sized bed, put on his spray mask, and did all the work there. An hour later he'd finished, and was sitting in the cramped en suit bathroom, in the dark, with his suitcase and six empty buckets. Physically and mentally crossing his fingers.
"What happened?" came a woman's voice, from out in the room. "Something died in my mouth", replied another voice. "Urrg. Why are we lying on a plastic sheet?" said a third. 'Opps' thought Arthur.
"Pay attention", he said, in his best 'Charlie' voice - he'd practised for hours. "You're going undercover, deep undercover. All three of you. No contact with anyone you've previously known. And, this time you're going out into space."
He took a breath, "You'll be working for the boss of the O'Neill space station. You need to appear totally loyal to him. It could be a long time, but I'll contact you with further instructions. All your papers and tickets you already have."
"Is that clear? Now, get going!"
"Yes, Charlie!"
--
"It is the business of the future to be dangerous" - Hawkwind