The 1986 Volkswagon Jetta was a decent little car. Unlike certain other year-models of the make, this particular one was known for being utterly reliable even having been horribly beaten. It was a good little car.
What it had not been meant to do was have some Handwavium shoved into the gas tank and used as an inter-system vehicle.
Benjamin felt that, that aside, he was doing pretty good. Using Gina, he'd become a pretty adept courier, swiftly shuttling small cargo loads, paperwork, and the occasional passenger or two through the system. The scenery changed and he met interesting people along the way. And at the end of the day he'd return to his homey little niche board the first orbital habitat over Earth.
At this time, Ben was sleeping. He'd been up late the other night on IRC once again. Doing so wasn't such a big deal. Gina handled most of the boring stuff without complaint. She'd usually entertain herself in the process by harrasing some alt. group on usenet anyways. Not that Ben cared - he never could get into Usenet.
Gina was more than just the Jetta itself. She was also a computer in the trunk. Ben had gotten fed up with the machine's sub-par performance one day and, for shits and giggles, pulled the old AMD Duron processor and RAM DIMM's out and stuck some Handwavium in their place and a few other key areas like the hard drive and graphics card, etcetera. The result was Gina.
While Benjamin slept, Gina had dedicated a process thread or two to staying on course while the rest she used to have fun tormenting the Trolls and EMO's on Usenet, Myspace, LiveJournal, and a few others. She also kept one on momnitoring Ben's e-mail accounts as he'd asked her to whenever she could.
Therefore, she was quick to notice the odd email that came in on from the Nation of the Fen mailing list. Briefly, she checked the message. Had she been human, she would have sighed and shaken her head. Never send a bot to do an AI's job. That aside, it looked like it was worth Ben's attention, and he'd slept long enough anyways...
***
"Yo, BJ! Wake up. You got e-mail from the Nation's all call."
"Guh?" I replied as I sat up in the reclined driver's seat and began to rub the bluriness out of my eyes. "E-mail? Put it up on the driver's side monitor." So saying, I pulled down one of the laptop LCD displays I had mounted in place of the visors. It was a small miracle that I was able to get matching ones, so it didn't look like such a bad kludge at all.
I sighed after reading the message. "Someone needs to shoot their secretary," I said as I reached for the track-ball I had mounted in the cup holder, hit the reply, and rapped out a quick aknowlegement on the split keyboard that was on either side of the steering wheel.
"Too bad they're doing this convention in a big space," said Gina. "I'd've loved to see the overcorwing issues we would have had back home."
"YOU would," I replied as I hit the 'Send' button with the track ball. "Don't forget who would actually have to live with that kind of insanity."
"Hah. You humans and your bioligical needs."
"You machines and your mechanical needs," I retorted.
"Hey!"
"Chill out. How far are we from Home?"
"We're about an hour out," she replied, plotting our position on a map of Earth Area Orbit.
"Traffic?" I asked.
"Probably because of that e-mail. It's timestamp was for five hours ago. Welcome to rush hour."
"Peachy."
Black Aeronaut Technologies Group
Aerospace Solutions for the discerning spacer
"To the commissary we should go," Yoda declared firmly. "News
of this kind a danish requires."
What it had not been meant to do was have some Handwavium shoved into the gas tank and used as an inter-system vehicle.
Benjamin felt that, that aside, he was doing pretty good. Using Gina, he'd become a pretty adept courier, swiftly shuttling small cargo loads, paperwork, and the occasional passenger or two through the system. The scenery changed and he met interesting people along the way. And at the end of the day he'd return to his homey little niche board the first orbital habitat over Earth.
At this time, Ben was sleeping. He'd been up late the other night on IRC once again. Doing so wasn't such a big deal. Gina handled most of the boring stuff without complaint. She'd usually entertain herself in the process by harrasing some alt. group on usenet anyways. Not that Ben cared - he never could get into Usenet.
Gina was more than just the Jetta itself. She was also a computer in the trunk. Ben had gotten fed up with the machine's sub-par performance one day and, for shits and giggles, pulled the old AMD Duron processor and RAM DIMM's out and stuck some Handwavium in their place and a few other key areas like the hard drive and graphics card, etcetera. The result was Gina.
While Benjamin slept, Gina had dedicated a process thread or two to staying on course while the rest she used to have fun tormenting the Trolls and EMO's on Usenet, Myspace, LiveJournal, and a few others. She also kept one on momnitoring Ben's e-mail accounts as he'd asked her to whenever she could.
Therefore, she was quick to notice the odd email that came in on from the Nation of the Fen mailing list. Briefly, she checked the message. Had she been human, she would have sighed and shaken her head. Never send a bot to do an AI's job. That aside, it looked like it was worth Ben's attention, and he'd slept long enough anyways...
***
"Yo, BJ! Wake up. You got e-mail from the Nation's all call."
"Guh?" I replied as I sat up in the reclined driver's seat and began to rub the bluriness out of my eyes. "E-mail? Put it up on the driver's side monitor." So saying, I pulled down one of the laptop LCD displays I had mounted in place of the visors. It was a small miracle that I was able to get matching ones, so it didn't look like such a bad kludge at all.
I sighed after reading the message. "Someone needs to shoot their secretary," I said as I reached for the track-ball I had mounted in the cup holder, hit the reply, and rapped out a quick aknowlegement on the split keyboard that was on either side of the steering wheel.
"Too bad they're doing this convention in a big space," said Gina. "I'd've loved to see the overcorwing issues we would have had back home."
"YOU would," I replied as I hit the 'Send' button with the track ball. "Don't forget who would actually have to live with that kind of insanity."
"Hah. You humans and your bioligical needs."
"You machines and your mechanical needs," I retorted.
"Hey!"
"Chill out. How far are we from Home?"
"We're about an hour out," she replied, plotting our position on a map of Earth Area Orbit.
"Traffic?" I asked.
"Probably because of that e-mail. It's timestamp was for five hours ago. Welcome to rush hour."
"Peachy."
Black Aeronaut Technologies Group
Aerospace Solutions for the discerning spacer
"To the commissary we should go," Yoda declared firmly. "News
of this kind a danish requires."