didn’t have to deal with modern technology. It wasn’t part of their worldview, but it is part of yours. Well, a little anyway…”
“Is that a cheap shot about my computer skills?”
“Pretty much. Anyway, you can do a lot, but can you, let’s say, erase a computer hard drive by singing to the computer?”
“I have never tried.”
“Well, let’s try, then.” Stan got out of bed and walked over to his desk. His computer, sleek, fast, and new as hell, booted up quickly. “I just made a backup earlier today.”
That’s sure not what I what have been doing on a “sick” day, but Stan really had been sick.
“Okay, go ahead and erase the hard drive,” Stan continued. I tried for a while, but aside from entertaining Stan, who enjoyed listening to me sing in Welsh, I couldn’t get as much as a momentary screen flicker from his computer, much less erase its hard drive.
Stan shook his head after a while. “This isn’t working. And yet you can manipulate the human brain, a far more sophisticated computer than this.”
“But if I wanted to erase the data, I could just as easily pull out White Hilt and burn the whole thing up.”
“Sure, but there are some situations where subtlety would be better. What if your only option when dealing with people was to cut off their heads with White Hilt? How would that work out?” As usual, he made a compelling point. “So what then is the solution? You need to be able to interact with technology directly. If you could manipulate the digital universe as easily as you can manipulate the natural one, your power, and with it your ability to get results in modern society, would increase exponentially, and sometimes you could get those results more covertly. You came to me so that I could help you learn how to do that.”
Stan must have known he was at least fourteen steps ahead of me now, and that I was awed by the sheer brilliance of his suggestion. A hybrid of magic and science! If we could do it, we could certainly surprise whatever bad guys came my way.
“That’s a great idea, Stan, but I don’t really know where to begin.”
“Oh, I do, but we will both have to work very hard—and you will have to pay my price.” The last part sounded oddly ominous.
“Okay, so what’s your price?”
“Get me a girl.” Gee, maybe I should get one for myself first!
“I can try, but dude, you need to lose those Star Trek pajamas.”
“You should talk.” I had been so engrossed in spilling my guts, I forgot about my trend-setting wardrobe from the Santa Brígida High School lost and found. The purple sweater, about three sizes too big for me—now there was a bold fashion statement if ever there was one.
“But at least my room…” I began, glancing around at a unique collection of science fiction paraphernalia that might have been a turn-on if Stan’s perspective sweetheart was from Vulcan, but otherwise seemed more like a massive turn-off.
“Your room? Yeah, come to think of it, maybe I’d better ask someone else to help me get a girl. Tal, your room looks like you’re plotting to seduce the queen of the faeries.” Yeah, unfortunately, that’s what my dad thought, though in a somewhat different way than Stan meant it.
Stan and I traded friendly insults for a while, our exchange ending as it often did, with me on top of him, tickling him unmercifully. Stan was too scrawny to put up a good fight against me, but I had to give him credit; he always tried.
Being with him reminded me of just how much he had filled the “little brother” niche in my life. Maybe the “little” label wasn’t fair and would even hurt his feelings if I said it to him, since we were about the same age, but as I’ve mentioned, he looked a lot younger, and I had a hard time remembering he wasn’t. We were both only children, and in my experience, at least as far as guys were concerned, that meant each of us had a brother-sized hole in our lives. Unrelated by blood, we had become
“Is that a cheap shot about my computer skills?”
“Pretty much. Anyway, you can do a lot, but can you, let’s say, erase a computer hard drive by singing to the computer?”
“I have never tried.”
“Well, let’s try, then.” Stan got out of bed and walked over to his desk. His computer, sleek, fast, and new as hell, booted up quickly. “I just made a backup earlier today.”
That’s sure not what I what have been doing on a “sick” day, but Stan really had been sick.
“Okay, go ahead and erase the hard drive,” Stan continued. I tried for a while, but aside from entertaining Stan, who enjoyed listening to me sing in Welsh, I couldn’t get as much as a momentary screen flicker from his computer, much less erase its hard drive.
Stan shook his head after a while. “This isn’t working. And yet you can manipulate the human brain, a far more sophisticated computer than this.”
“But if I wanted to erase the data, I could just as easily pull out White Hilt and burn the whole thing up.”
“Sure, but there are some situations where subtlety would be better. What if your only option when dealing with people was to cut off their heads with White Hilt? How would that work out?” As usual, he made a compelling point. “So what then is the solution? You need to be able to interact with technology directly. If you could manipulate the digital universe as easily as you can manipulate the natural one, your power, and with it your ability to get results in modern society, would increase exponentially, and sometimes you could get those results more covertly. You came to me so that I could help you learn how to do that.”
Stan must have known he was at least fourteen steps ahead of me now, and that I was awed by the sheer brilliance of his suggestion. A hybrid of magic and science! If we could do it, we could certainly surprise whatever bad guys came my way.
“That’s a great idea, Stan, but I don’t really know where to begin.”
“Oh, I do, but we will both have to work very hard—and you will have to pay my price.” The last part sounded oddly ominous.
“Okay, so what’s your price?”
“Get me a girl.” Gee, maybe I should get one for myself first!
“I can try, but dude, you need to lose those Star Trek pajamas.”
“You should talk.” I had been so engrossed in spilling my guts, I forgot about my trend-setting wardrobe from the Santa Brígida High School lost and found. The purple sweater, about three sizes too big for me—now there was a bold fashion statement if ever there was one.
“But at least my room…” I began, glancing around at a unique collection of science fiction paraphernalia that might have been a turn-on if Stan’s perspective sweetheart was from Vulcan, but otherwise seemed more like a massive turn-off.
“Your room? Yeah, come to think of it, maybe I’d better ask someone else to help me get a girl. Tal, your room looks like you’re plotting to seduce the queen of the faeries.” Yeah, unfortunately, that’s what my dad thought, though in a somewhat different way than Stan meant it.
Stan and I traded friendly insults for a while, our exchange ending as it often did, with me on top of him, tickling him unmercifully. Stan was too scrawny to put up a good fight against me, but I had to give him credit; he always tried.
Being with him reminded me of just how much he had filled the “little brother” niche in my life. Maybe the “little” label wasn’t fair and would even hurt his feelings if I said it to him, since we were about the same age, but as I’ve mentioned, he looked a lot younger, and I had a hard time remembering he wasn’t. We were both only children, and in my experience, at least as far as guys were concerned, that meant each of us had a brother-sized hole in our lives. Unrelated by blood, we had become
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