Fiction: My mail order time machine, seventh part

   My mail order time machine

Seventh

I have been having recurring nightmares of robots that look like Maximilian chasing me for as long as I can remember. It always ends with a man in a long black leather coat and New Rock boots hitting the robot over the head with a really large frying pan. Now I understand what it’s about, and thanks to the notes I’m sending to myself from the past I can keep track of the changes in the timeline. And I’m happy I’ll apparently eventually get that leather coat fixed. I really liked it. Not sure about going back to wearing New Rocks but I guess the escalation of the midlife crisis is inevitable. 

The next morning, I woke up with a headache. More memories flushing through? Yes, there were a few. The images of the robots from yesterday’s flashbacks had gained in clarity and I could now see they all resembled Max. The robot that visited me the other day and looked like Maximilian from The Black Hole. I also now have new memories of always having nightmares of the memories involving the robots. Had a bad one just a couple of nights ago, before I met Max. Beating Max over the head with the frying pan seemed to have been a cathartic experience. It also seemed familiar, because in my nightmares – memories – memorymares – there would almost always be a man wearing a long black leather coat and brandishing a massive frying pan. I hadn’t obviously realised it when I bought my frying pan – especially since just a few days ago I had not always had these memories and nightmares – but the pan in my kitchen, which I recently used to knock out Max, looked very much like the one the man in my memories wields. In fact, the man looked a bit like me. And the leather coat looked like one hanging in my closet. Except mine had a couple of ripped seams and buttons literally hanging by a thread while the one worn by the man in my memories looked to be in great shape. I always thought I should get that coat fixed, and it seems at some point I will. Another thing about the man in these nightmare memories was the boots he was wearing. They were from a brand called New Rock, and I used to wear similar boots when I was young. Or younger, I should still say. I still had a pair, but they were worn out to the point of being basically unwearable. I had toyed with the idea of getting a new pair for a while but hadn’t gotten around to it. Judging by these memories, I might. Maybe they are good for kicking some robot ass. I heard sounds coming from the living room. “Who is there?” I called out. “It's just me,” came the reply in my own voice. “And me.” So not ‘just me’ as in ‘nobody else but me’ then. “And me.” Three versions of me? This should be fun. I slipped on pair of trousers and a t-shirt and made my way to the living room. The water in the kettle was already boiling. “I took the liberty of boiling some water,” one of the visitors said. “We all wanted some tea.” “Ok,” I said. “And who are you all?” I asked. “I mean, from when, I guess.” The hairy one stepped forward. “Well, you know me and the original baldie here,” he said, gesturing to himself and the one who had been standing next to him. “And that guy there is the black sheep of our temporal variations,” he then said pointing to the one who was making the tea. The new me was on the tip of his toes looking into the cupboards. “Do you have any tea?" he asked turning his head to look over to me while still holding the cupboard doors open. I took a step closer, and he turned to look back at the cupboards. “Yes -” I started but he interrupted me. “Oh yes, there they are,” he said and reached to the back of the top shelf. “You don’t drink a lot of tea, do you?” he said as he pulled out a box of earl grey. “I do,” I said, and pointed to the open box on the counter next to the fridge. “I didn’t know there was more up there.” The new guy looked at me, the box in his hand and then the box on the counter. “Didn’t see that, are you sure it was there five minutes ago?” I shrugged. “Oh, but these are very old, I see the date is from -” the new guy started, but then he chuckled. “Oh yeah, what year are we in again, this is 2010 right? So, the date on these is still actually fairly far out.” “Let me see,” I said and took the box. The date said 2025. I looked at the new guy. “You thought these are old? How old are you?” I looked at the new guy and he stared back at me with a blank expression on his face. I looked at the box in my hand again. 2025. I checked the other box, which I remembered buying a few weeks ago. “This one I bought just a few weeks ago and has a date of 2014,” I said. The hairy and the baldie who had been discussing something, both turned towards me. “That’s interesting.” “Yes, I think one of these boxes comes from the future,” the baldie said and held out his hand. I gave him the box with the date in 2025. “Oh yes, you see the design is a little different.” “Is it?” I asked and looked at the box in his hand and then at the box in my hand. “Yes, they adjusted the tone of the colour and width of the lines.” “Oh right...” I said and nodded my head. I didn’t see it, but I didn’t think it was worth arguing. I looked at the new guy, who shrugged his shoulders. “So, from when are you again?” I asked the new guy, but the baldie interrupted us before the new guy could answer. Not that he looked like he was really in a hurry to answer either. “I think you guys don’t understand what’s happening here,” the baldie said. He held up the box we had found on the top shelf. “This - box - is - from - the - future,” he said, emphasizing each word separately. He looked around at all three of us one by one. “So how did it get here?” “Did you bring it from the future?” he asked me. I shook my head. “Did you bring it?” he asked, turning towards the hairy one. “I did not,” the hairy one answered. “Did you bring it,” he then asked to the new guy. “No, I didn’t bring it,” the new guy answered. “Not yet at least.” “So, you are thinking of bringing it?” “Maybe I am.” The baldie looked at the box in his hand. “Ok, maybe you will. For all we know anyone of us could bring it from the future to a moment in current past later in our respective timelines.” I concentrated so hard to follow the logic of that sentence I almost turned my eyes inside out. “But just in case, I think I’d like to test the contents. It could have been the robots.” “You think they might be trying to poison me?” I asked. “Anything is possible,” the baldie said. “It could also be an explosive. There are substances that explode when they come in contact with water,” the hairy one said. “Nice,” the new guy said. “Can we try that?” he asked and reached for the water kettle, then pulled his hand back. “Let me just first make the teas though,” he said and extended his hand towards me. I held up the box of teabags in my hand. “What if the robots exchanged the contents of my box of tea bags with theirs though?” “Oh, well that is an interesting thought,” the baldie said. “So, the ones baldie here has in his box might be fine,” the hairy one started. “While the ones in yours are exploding poison that will kill all humans in the city,” the baldie concluded. “Yeah, maybe these are the murder tea bags,” I said brandishing the box in my hand and then I realised what he was saying. “I mean, what?” I had thought maybe there’d be a small explosion, if any. The thought of an explosion large enough to destroy the whole city seemed somewhat scarier. Though whether it would destroy my kitchen, my apartment, the building or the whole city wouldn’t make much difference to me. I would be dead anyway. “I think I I should test them all,” the baldie said and held out his hand. I gave him my box of tea bags. “Ok, I’ll just pop to the shop to get new tea bags,” the new guy said and started towards the entrance. He stopped with his hand on the door handle. “They accept new guldens, right?” Hairy and baldie groaned. I looked at them and then at the new guy who was making an annoyed face. “I guess not then,” he said. “Can someone lend me a card or cash to pay for the tea bags?” I reached out to my wallet and pulled out my debit card. “Here, use this. If it asks for the pin code, it’s the same as the middle four digits of the card number.” “Thanks,” the new guy said. He took my card, looked at the numbers – I saw his mouth move as he read the four digits in the middle and then repeated them twice with his eyes closed. Then he looked back to me, flashed a grin and left. “I hope you don’t have all your money on that account,” the baldie said. “What do you mean?” “There is a reason we call him the black sheep.” “Uh-huh. Well, that’s just for the day-to-day spending for groceries etc. Not more than a few hundred on that account this time of the month.” “Not enough for him to make a run for it I suspect,” the hairy said. “Anyway, I’ll be right back,” the baldie said and vanished. “I guess he went to test the tea bags?” I wondered out loud. “I guess so,” the hairy said. “So, we wait?” He shrugged. “Play a bit?” he gestured to my game console setup. “Sure,” I pulled the driving seat and switched things on. “Some racing?” “Sounds good.” I started the game. After a few seconds, the system informed us that the console needs to be updated before we can play the game. “Always the same,” I said and the hairy future version of me nodded. After a couple of minutes, the console restarted, and I tried to start the game again. This time the game informed us that it needs to be updated. At that moment, the new guy returned from the shop. “Ok, I got the tea,” he said, waving the box in his hand. “And here’s your card,” he said, handing my debit card to me. I took it and looked at it. I wondered how much this box of tea had costed me. The new guy looked at me. “You are wondering if I took your money.” I shrugged. “I thought of it, but then I remembered how I thought about it when I was in your shoes.” I looked at him. “Or in your socks,” he said. Then he looked at my feet. “Or you know, whatever, when I was you. So no, I didn’t take more than what the tea cost,” he added. “Thanks,” I said. “For the tea, and for not stealing.” “No worries.” He turned back to the kitchen. “And now I will make that tea. Is the other one coming back?” The hairy one was looking at the update bar for the game slowly progress. “I guess so. He went to test the other teas.” “I hope he didn’t test them on himself,” the new guy said. “He is younger than me.” I looked at the hairy one. He looked at me. I could see he had the same thought as I did. He turned to the new guy. “Don’t you remember doing this then?” The new guy turned around, having just turned on the kettle. “I don’t,” he said carefully. “At least not yet. I think testing the tea is a new thing that hadn’t happened before.” “Right. I still find all this difficult to follow. I mean, from my point of view none of this has happened before and you all are already experiencing different versions of the events that for me are current.” I saw that the game had finished updating and was starting. I turned the volume down to zero but left the system on. Maybe we’d get a chance to race a bit later. “Yeah, I know. But for us it’s been longer than for you and some events already took place for us and are established now. But I didn’t remember my visits here today at all, until I came over today and saw my earlier selves already assembled,” the new guy said. “Oh, so why did you come over today?” The kettle was starting to sound like the water was about to boil and the new guy turned it off. “Ok, just going to give the water a moment,” he said, putting the tea bags into the four mugs he had placed on the counter. “Yeah, why did you come over today?” the hairy one repeated my question. The new guy was silent for a moment. “I am not sure,” he then said. “I guess I just decided to do it.” He was silent for a moment. “For no apparent reason,” he then added. The hairy one looked to the side, tilting his head slowly from side to side. “I’m trying to think if I am starting to remember anything that could give us a reason,” he said. “But nothing is coming to mind so far.” At that moment the baldie returned. “Good news everyone,” he called out as soon as he could. “None of the teas were anything more or less than normally tea-y.” All three of us rolled our eyes. “Oh yeah, the tea. The water should have settled by now.” The new guy turned back to the counter again and poured steaming water into all four mugs. The baldie looked at the mugs. “Where did that tea come from?” he asked. “From the shop.” The baldie stepped closer and sniffed at the mugs. “Can I see the box?” The new guy looked around. “Sure... Where did I put it?” He opened the cupboard. “Here.” He pulled the box out and handed it over to the baldie who took it and inspected it very carefully. “And you just bought this in the grocery store?” “Yes, across the street there. You think there is something wrong with it?” The baldie continued to inspect the box and sniffed the mugs once more. “Not sure, did you try it yet?” “I didn’t.” The baldie looked at the new guy. There was a moment of silence, then the baldie looked down at the mugs again. “Probably better that way. I wouldn’t try this tea either.” “Are you saying we cannot have tea anymore?” the hairy one said. “Well, depends on how much you want to die,” the baldie replied. “In any case, the tea in these boxes has been tested and been found to be just tea. For now.” He then gestured towards the mugs. “What is in these mugs, I don’t know. They seem suspiciously ok.” “Really?” The hairy one rolled his eyes and stepped over to the kitchen counter. “’They seem suspiciously ok.’ What’s that even supposed to be mean?” He took one of the mugs and took a sip. “Hey, stop -” the baldie protested. The new guy also reached out but then let his arm drop. It was too late. I looked at them all. The hairy one took another sip. “Mmm-mmm.” “Good?” I asked. “Not good. Super-duper extra good,” he said with a silly smile. “It’s just that if that tea is poisoned or otherwise harmful, you’ve potentially killed off the two us,” the baldie said gesturing to himself and the new guy. “And yourself, of course.” “Yeah, and what a loss that would be,” the hairy one quipped. “Well, I guess I would consider killing myself a bit of a loss to be honest. I just thought you are probably just being paranoid,” he then continued, and then suddenly fell oddly silent. He looked around and brought his hand to his mouth. He then started convulsing. The baldie and the new guy went completely pale. They looked at each other, and then at themselves, as if expecting to start fading away. The hairy one stopped convulsing and started laughing. Both the other two immediately expressed relief but also anger. “Very funny,” the baldie said. “I thought so,” the hairy one said, smirking. I thought of heading out again. This was like the first time I had the baldie and the hairy one visiting me. I was starting to feel more annoyed at the future versions of me than anything else. “Oh no, we are losing him,” the hairy one said, turning to look at me. “I can remember exactly what you are thinking now.” Can he really? I was thinking of going for a beer in the nearby pub. “You never go to that pub by yourself,” the hairy one said. I had to admit that was true. And I noted that that was so far perhaps the quickest temporal propagation of a new memory. “Yes, I do,” I said. “I go there almost all the time. I’m just blocking that memory from you.” I wasn’t sure if that was possible. The hairy one looked at me. “Sure, go on then,” he said and turned back to the others. “Our past self seems to not appreciate our company.” Baldie and the new guy looked at me. “Yeah, I remember that,” the baldie said. “Me too. And I remember you remembering it, too.” “Well, it’s a bit much, don’t you think? All of you just dropping by and taking over my home.” I tried to explain myself. All three shrugged their shoulders. “We just want to make sure we’ll all be all right,” the baldie said. “You know, if you drop dead, we are all gone,” the hairy one added. “And we’d rather not be gone,” the new guy said. “But we remember how we felt when our future versions were doing this.” “And it’s like in the school, or in the army,” the hairy one said. I knew where this was going and slowly shook my head. I saw a small smile creep up on their faces. “It’s time to pay it forth,” they said in almost perfect unison. “We went through it, and now it’s your turn.” I rolled my eyes. “Seriously though, was there any real reason why you all came by today?” I asked, looking at all three of them one by one. “Anyone of you?” The three looked at each other. “I’m not sure, like I said before,” the new guy said. “I think I just came because I remembered those two visiting me – you,” he pointed at me, “- and I haven’t seen any other versions of me in a while.” “So, you are saying you were just lonely?” I asked. I ignored the fact that he had only a few minutes ago said that he had not remembered the visits from the others until he arrived himself. We were already dealing with adjusted sequence of events effected by the visits from the three of them and by now his original reason for coming over was lost. “You could perhaps say that,” the new guy said. “And the two of you then?” I asked, turning my attention to the baldie and the hairy one. They shrugged their shoulders again. The baldie protruded his lower lip. “I think I came because I remembered being visited on this day,” the hairy one said. “Right. That makes so much sense,” I said. The hairy one was nodding. “I mean that sarcastically,” I added. Although if I thought about it, it did make sense. I just couldn’t admit it. “Are you sure?” the baldie asked. “Or did you mean ironically?” “I’m pretty sure I said what I meant and meant what I said,” I replied. “Ooh, now you sound like Bilbo,” the new guy said. He was referring to the scene in the first book of the Lord of the Rings where Bilbo is giving a speech on his eleventy-first birthday and talking about how well he knows and how much he likes his guests. “I think actually that is a quote from a Dr Seuss book. Not that any of us ever read any of those, but I saw it somewhere recently. I think the elephant says it, if I remember correctly. Though I suppose the slightly convoluted structure of the sentence may remind one of what Bilbo said about knowing half of his guests half as well as he’d like,” the hairy one said, drawing an eye roll from the new guy. “Anyway, should we watch the Lord of the Rings?” he then asked. “If I remember correctly, you should still have the box set of the extended versions.” He looked at me. The new guy was mockingly miming the way the hairy one had said the words ‘if I remember correctly’ twice in his micro-monologue. “Yeah, ok,” I said and went to get the blue ray box from the bookshelf. “But only the first one, we can watch the rest later. I still want to do something useful today.” A moment later we were spread over the sofa and the floor in front of my TV, watching the opening credits of the first of the trilogy. Later that night, after we had finished all three films and all three future versions of me had left, I posted another social media update. I left out all the excitement about the visits from my future selves and the dilemma of the potentially tampered tea. “I have been having recurring nightmares of robots that look like Maximilian chasing me for as long as I can remember. It always ends with a man in a long black leather coat and New Rock boots hitting the robot over the head with a really large frying pan. Now I understand what it’s about, and thanks to the notes I’m sending to myself from the past I can keep track of the changes in the timeline. And I’m happy I’ll apparently eventually get that leather coat fixed. I really liked it. Not sure about going back to wearing New Rocks but I guess the escalation of the midlife crisis is inevitable.” After clicking on the send button, I leaned back on the sofa and closed my eyes. I was asleep before the first ‘like’ showed up on my computer screen.    

Fiction: My mail order time machine, sixth part

  My mail order time machine

Sixth 

As we know, our brain structure is influenced by childhood experiences. Experiencing huge headaches as apparently my brain in the present is adjusting to what for me are new memories of my future selves paying visits to me far in the past. I think it’s going to take a while for all of it to fall into place, but it seems I’ve now had visits from the future for as long as I can remember. They haven’t done anything nice like preventing me from falling on the balance beam when I was nine, so still have the dent in my ribcage. If anything, I think I may have a couple of new scars I can’t quite remember acquiring. Mostly so far I just remember creepy figures staring at me from a distance. 

I woke up with a banging headache. I wasn't even going to try to guess why, but this was the worst headache I’ve had recently. My head felt heavy, and ready to explode with every beat of my heart. I was nodding in sync with the pounding, feeling the pulsating pain everywhere in my head, radiating down my neck. I lied still with my eyes closed and tried to breath calmly. Fully relaxing my neck and shoulders and letting my head sink into the pillow helped and after a while the pain was slightly more tolerable. Provided that I did not even think about moving any part of my body. My mind began to cautiously wander. A very early memory from when I was maybe two years old had for some reason made it to the forefront of my thoughts. It was a memory of me and my older brother crossing the field next to our house. The field provided a shortcut to our grandparents’ house, but it was also where our grandparents sometimes kept their horse. I was afraid of the horse so wouldn’t choose to take the shortcut if I knew the horse was there, but I couldn’t see it anywhere and was convinced that it was at a different pasture. So, I agreed to take the shortcut. We were walking happily across the field when suddenly, when we were about halfway to the gate on the other side of the field, my brother started running towards the gate. As he sped off, he was shouting that the horse was coming after us. I panicked and started running after him. If I would just get to the gate, I would be safe, I thought. I ran and ran as fast as I could, my eyes on my brother who had already reached the gate and was looking back towards me, screaming that the horse was right behind me, and that I had to run faster. I did not dare to look behind me. I could swear I was able to hear the horse coming behind me, the pounding of the hooves, the heavy breathing, I could almost feel the breath on my neck. I was screaming with fear my myself. I remember my heart pounding in my throat and even now the memory gave me a panicked feeling. Finally, I reached the gate and as I rushed through slamming it shut behind me, I realised by brother was laughing. He had fooled me. I looked back to the field and did not see the horse. I do remember seeing something else though, namely a figure of a person standing at the far end of the field by the other gate. It was too far away to really see who it was, but it had to be one of my parents. Probably had come to see what all the screaming was about. I waved, but the figure just stood there. I glanced at my brother, but he was looking to another direction. I looked back, and the figure was gone. Then there were other seemingly long-lost memories of the figure that were similarly suddenly very much not lost. Like a memory where I was walking across a parking lot and glanced over my shoulder and saw the figure at the other end. I tripped over a bike rack and when I got up and looked back again, the figure was gone. Another memory was when I was maybe 10 years old, and I was de-weeding the potato field with my brothers. Most of the time I would be hunched over, slowly making my way along the rows of potatoes and pulling the weeds out. Occasionally I would straighten up to stretch my back. One time I did so and was looking around I noticed the figure just at the edge of the field some twenty meters away, almost hidden by the trees. I looked at my brothers to check if they’d also seen it, but both were busy pulling weeds and throwing them over their backs spraying me with the occasional lump of soil in the progress. When I looked back towards the forest, the figure was gone. And many other similar memories, everywhere, through my whole childhood and even to my young adulthood. I even had a memory of the figure appearing when I was in the army, and we had gone for a week-long field training exercise in the woods. It was the kind of an exercise where you setup tents for occasional sleeping and have daily, and nightly, exercises ranging from digging foxholes to target shooting and setting up minefields. The figure appeared once on the side of the shooting range. I glanced at the sergeant in charge of the exercise, calling out to alert him to the presence of a person down the range, but when I looked again the figure was gone. The exercise was stopped, and the entire company, enlisted personnel included, spend the next hour checking the area for trespassers. We didn’t find anyone, but we were told it wouldn’t have been the first time that people were wandering around, despite there being signs and fences to keep people away. The other time I saw the figure go around the corner of the command tent, but when I followed it there was nobody there. I found myself calling the figure ‘my stalker’. I didn’t know where that came from, but I accepted it. But something bothered me. I also remembered a different version of the memory with running across the field. One without the figure of the stalker. Same with many of the other memories in which the figure appeared. It seems there were other versions of those memories without the figure. How can I have two different memories of the same incident? It was as if I had lived through two slightly different lives, one with a stalking figure hanging around, and one without. How can that be? It cannot, so which memories are the real ones? Who was the stalker? What was it doing? Were there any other differences between the memories? Was something else lost, while my stalker was added? Is there more that I have forgotten? I felt sadness, and fear. I felt as if my identity, my ‘self’, was being changed, and I did not want it. I am a product of, among other things, my experiences, and suddenly it seemed that I couldn’t be sure what part of the experiences I remember were real. What is more important, the experience or the memory of the experience? Is there essentially any difference between the two? To some extent my memories are what I have made them to be. They have been refined and adjusted through countless times of remembering them, perhaps ignoring a detail here and filling in a gap there, coming up with motivation or reason where maybe there was none or , until I’ve reached the consensus of acceptably rememberable memory that serves a purpose of providing a seed for an anecdote, remind me of something I feel I need to remember and keep in mind, make me feel good about myself or give myself an example to follow or to avoid. Maybe these adjustments happen all the time, and I have just not noticed the change before. Maybe I haven’t held the two versions of the memories in my head at the same time before. But wouldn’t these types of changes normally be limited to a single memory at a time? So why is it happening now to such a number of memories? And why would I invent a stalker to add to my memories? Or am I removing the stalker? Which memories are the real ones? Are any of them real? Or are they all real? I paused. Am I actually remembering two different lives? I call the figure stalker because he seems to be following me but never comes close enough to interact. I remember I came up with that name some years ago when I was trying to write about these memories. That was another memory I only just now remembered. The bald version of future me did talk about changes from the past gradually catching up with the present. Is that what was going on with my memories? Are my memories changing because my past has changed? Is it possible that as the ripples of the changes in the past catch up with me, I can remember two different timelines? But if it is the changes in the past catching up with me, then my reality has changed. Who I am is changing. I am not who I was, and I had a feeling that shortly I wouldn’t even know that anything had changed. I would just remember a life slightly different from the one I remember last night. And I would be a slightly different person as well. I stayed in bed for a while, until the headache had slightly subsided. Trying to sit up still made me feel like the insides of my head were about to become the outside of my head. I decided to stay put for a while longer. This will have to be a quiet day, I thought to myself. Then I heard a faint swooshing sound, and my bedroom door was pushed slightly more open. I propped myself up leaning back on my elbows. “Who is it,” I called out. “Just me,” I heard my voice answer. I wasn’t sure if it was the hairy or the bald version of future me, and I didn’t really care. “I’m in the bedroom and don’t feel like moving,” I said. “Yes, I remember. I’ll just make some tea, ok? Just take it easy.” I lied back down and closed my eyes. A moment later I woke up to someone walking into the bedroom and putting a small table next to the bed, placing a mug of tea on top of the desk. “I remember that the memories were flooding in on this day and it felt like hell,” future me said. I opened my eyes. It was the one with the hair. I looked to the side of bed at the table he had brought. I don’t have a table like that, I thought. “You can keep the table, by the way.” I reached for the mug and brought it to my lips, carefully taking a sip. It was hot. “Thanks, I guess.” The future version of me nodded. He was quiet for a moment. I appreciated it. “I do wonder where it came from though,” he then said. I squeezed my eyes shut again, trying to will the pain away. “The table, that is. I’ve had it ever since this day.” I opened my eyes. “Are you saying that you had this table in the future, because the future you brought it to you on this day?” “Yeah, that’s exactly the story of this table. Doesn’t really make sense, does it.” He was saying that as a statement, rather than a question. “No, it doesn’t. And my head hurts enough already so I cannot try to think about it.” I closed my eyes again. I thought about it anyway. It reminded me of a film I once saw. I forget if the protagonist started as a girl or a guy, but let’s say they were first a girl, then they changed to a guy (but fully functional one, I think they basically originally had all the necessary equipment from both sexes). The guy then went back in time and ended having sex with himself when he was still a girl. She got pregnant and gave birth to a baby girl, which was then taken further back in time to an orphanage, and the girl grew up to be the protagonist. Except my version has just a table, that remains a table. And doesn’t do anything except being a table. It’s just tabling it out. It took me a long time to go through these thoughts and when I opened my eyes again, I was alone in my bedroom. The table was still there, so now I had a small bed-side table. A table that I would take back in time to this day roughly ten years from now. The tea was cold now. I suspected I had fallen asleep in the middle of my thoughts. Also, I noticed that my head was not hurting so badly anymore. And some of the new memories were slightly less vague now. I remember seeing figures always hanging around at the edge of my vision, never quite getting close enough to be recognized. I remember not thinking too much about them earlier. It’s weird knowing that you have a new memory that you don’t remember having before, while at the same time you have memories of knowing about that memory. I even remember discussing these memories. Yet I know that just yesterday I did not have these memories at all. I should start writing these things down, to make sure I don’t forget what has happened, and to create a kind of a manual for myself. I could call it my guide to living with temporal transformations. Or how to adapt to ripples of altered past. I decided to think about the title a bit more. And maybe I should check my future selves if I managed to finish the guide, and if they could lend it to me. That would save me quite a bit of time. I looked to the side and saw my phone. I checked the time and realised I had stayed in bed the whole day. OK, time to get up, I thought. I swung the covers aside and stopped. I looked at my legs. There were a couple of scars that I didn’t remember having. Same on my arms and the chest. Why don’t I have a memory of these scars? Or do I? An image of a robot swinging its arm at me flashes in front of my eyes. Yes, I do. It will just take some time to work these memories out. The image of the robot comes back. I shake my head as if to jolt it off. But it stays at the back of my head, flashing to the front every few minutes. Each time I feel like I remember a little more. I feel like I can almost remember some of the cuts that resulted in the scars I had just discovered. But there are more similar memories. I suddenly see a different robot. It swings its arm at me, like the other one, but this one has blood splutters on its chest and face. I see the tips of its fingers are also dripping red. I squeeze my eyes shut as tightly as I can, but I cannot escape the images that are inside my head now. New robots, blood, screaming, pain. It is overwhelming. The images turn into a cacophony of nightmarish scenes where I do not know anymore where one memory ends and another begins. I scream as loud as I can and that brings a moment of respite. My downstairs neighbour responds almost immediately by knocking their ceiling. I scream again and drive the images to the back of my mind. I wish I could expel them completely, but for now that is the best I can do. The neighbour knocks again. “Yea yea, I’ll try to keep it down,” I mutter and draw in a deep breath. At least the worst of the avalanche of the violent memories seemed to be over now. A bit later I managed to get out of my bed and have something to eat. While eating, I sent another update on social media. There were a couple of questions on what had happened and why I hadn’t posted for a day, but I ignored those. “As we know, our brain structure is influenced by childhood experiences. Experiencing huge headaches as apparently my brain in the present is adjusting to what for me are new memories of my future selves paying visits to me far in the past. I think it’s going to take a while for all of it to fall into place, but it seems I’ve now had visits from the future for as long as I can remember. They haven’t done anything nice like preventing me from falling on the balance beam when I was nine, so still have the dent in my ribcage. If anything, I think I may have a couple of new scars I can’t quite remember acquiring. Mostly so far I just remember creepy figures staring at me from a distance. “ I had decided to leave out any mention of the more nightmarish memories for now. No need to have anyone getting even more worried than they might already be. After submitting the post, I used the computer to write some notes about the memories and get my guide started. I felt that the ones without the figure were becoming more difficult to fully recall. I suspected my tomorrow I wouldn’t remember a life where the figure was not present or at least it would be a fleetingly vague memory, so I had to document it all as well as I could.

 

My Batocera Linux Setup

 So I've been working on setting up a system with Batocera linux, for my retrogaming enjoyment. 

Originally I had thought of just setting up a Linux environment and run MAME, and was working on a version of Debian, but was still doing research on what would be the best way to set up what I wanted. After a while I found out about Batocera and decided to give it a go. As soon as I managed to try it, I was instantly convinced it was what I wanted.

I had only small problems to start with: Finding a suitable USB stick, and convincing my old PC machinery to boot from it. First I was trying with a setup that had an old motherboard that needed some settings to be adjusted to allow the boot. But once it worked, it worked. And then I decided I wanted to install it to my SDD, which gave some problems. The installation to a drive should be possible directly from batocera menus, but it kept failing. I am not sure why, but I think it was trying to download stuff to put on the drive. I don't know if it was trying to download to the stick, but if it was then I'm pretty sure the problem was lack of sufficient space. If the problem was something else then it was something else. I didn't really look into it, and rather just went for a workaround. I ended up creating an image of my USB stick, and just copying it over to the SDD. To my astonishment, it worked.

Next problem was that the image was not using the whole of the SDD, so I needed to expand the partition. After some research I found out that this is a matter of setting some boot parameter to automatically extend the size of the partition to use all of the available space. I tried it, but as far as I could tell, it didn't work. I probably did something wrong, but I couldn't figure it out. So I ended up doing that manually, which worked just brilliantly. I cannot remember how I did it though, but it was probably reasonably easy. Otherwise I wouldn't have managed.

Next I switched to using a different PC setup. I think I just wanted to use the smaller case, and it was easier to just move the drive than to move any components. The two systems were very similar, and actually the one I switched to had slightly newer components. The only problem was it was my old Windows PC so I had to clean up lots of documents to make sure I wasn't going to lose anything important. The clean-up took a while, but the actual switch went without a hitch.

What was giving me trouble next was the audio through HDMI. It would just randomly stop working, and then just as randomly start working again. I never really managed to figure out the real root cause, but some of my dabbling around seemed to at some point have fixed it. I hope to still figure out what the issue was. I guess that means I hope that the problem resurfaces. Until then I will just enjoy the working audio.

Next on the list was trying to get the wireless PS3 controllers to work. The motherboard I am using does not have a built-in bluetooth. Luckily, I had an old USB-bluetooth dongle. I think it's at least 15 years old, so I had doubts about whether it would work but I decided to try it anyway. So I plugged it in, expecting that it's too old to do anything useful. Studying the setup and troubleshooting instructions, I learned that I need to plug my controller in with USB first for something like 10 seconds, then unplug and then press the PS button and it should miraculously connect.

I don't now remember if I had to do anything else for that first little bit of success but I'm pretty sure I didn't. The result was that the controller was connected. The problem was, however, that nothing happened if I pressed any of the buttons. As soon as I plugged it in with USB, the controller worked. Unplugged, despite showing that it is connected, it would not work.

What followed then was a bit of back and forth, trying various things like editing the config file to change the driver, plugging/unplugging, trying manual pairing, automatic pairing, moving the dongle from a usb-port in the back to one in the front of the computer, etc, combined with several reboots. At times it felt like progress was made, and at other times not. I'm pretty sure anything that looked like progress was 50% imagined and 50% misunderstood. I tried so many things I didn't even know what I was trying to do anymore.

Finally, I decided that the problem was my old dongle. I decided to buy a new one. What followed next was extensive research into which dongles have been tested with Batocera, which are recommended, and which one does my gut like. My gut liked one that was both tested and recommended, and I ordered it. It was delivered the next day. A few days later, I opened the package and plugged it into the computer. About two weeks later, I powered the computer on. I pulled out the controller and plugged in. After 10 seconds, I unplugged it, and pressed the PS button. The lights kept blinking. I checked the config and I think I had to change the driver to default again as in my earlier troubleshooting I had changed it something else. After rebooting, I plugged the controller in again, and unplugged, and pressed the PS button. And then it was connected. And it worked. I played a bit of NES Super Mario Bros and patted my back for job well done.

Next thing I want to do is to setup a library of a few games for a few different systems. Games I like and games I have tested. Dragon's Lair I and II and Space Ace are already setup for Daphne. I have a few too many games for NES and SNES. I have all the classics and more for SCUMM. I have a bunch of MS-DOS games I wish I had the time to play. So what I actually want to do is to organise the games I already have to have a few favourites I can go back to and I know will work and I will enjoy them, and then to have the rest as things to try when I feel like it.

So if all goes well, maybe I'll have more to tell on this topic later.

The Spectrum and TheVIC20

 I recently acquired two new toys. Both are remakes of old computers, neither of which I ever had but both were an object of some desire at some point.

The Spectrum. This is a remake of the good old ZX Spectrum from Sinclair. The predecessor of ZX Spectrum, ZX81, was our first home computer, and therefore it could have been logical to move on to the successor. It didn't happen, but I do remember reading about it and wondering how it would be to use one. I have since then played a bit with emulators, so have got a taste of what it was like to use a ZX Spectrum, but because of the way the original Spectrum had keywords assigned to specific keys, it was always a bit cumbersome to not have the actual keyboard. You either have keys mapped to your standard PC keyboard, or use a virtual keyboard. Neither is optimal. 

How it works is that when programming in BASIC, you don't type words like PRINT, LET, GOTO, etc, but rather press the key that has the appropriate keyword assigned to it. Some keys can have 6 different purposes, depending on the context or which modifier key you have pressed before. You can perhaps understand why it can be difficult to use a standard PC keyboard, as you have to either remember what's where, or have a printout next to the keyboard showing where each keyword and function can be found. Or using a virtual keyboard, which, unless you have a touch screen, means typing with the mouse, and the keyboard covers part of the screen so you may end up switching it on and off to see what's happening.

I have also looked into obtaining a real old ZX Spectrum, but then I always got stuck trying to decide which one I want. And which peripherals do I want to invest into. A cassette deck? I have an Arduino-based TZXduino device for my ZX81 already, and that should work for Spectrum as well, but I'd also love to get a real physical cassette deck to use real tapes. Only it's not so easy to find working tape decks from 40 years ago. A disk drive? Disk drive was not a common device to use with the original Spectrum, and I'm not very familiar with options and choices. Joysticks? The original Spectrum is lacking the sockets for the typical 9-pin D-connectors many other computers of the same era used for joysticks, so one needs to build or buy a custom interface to be able to plug in the controller.

The original Spectrum, which only has RF output to connect to the TV aerial input, apparently also has a problem with modern TVs not being able to read/process the signal, and requires a modification, similar to the ZX81.

With all that, I had never got around to buying one.

But then, Retro Games Ltd announced The Spectrum. I saw it, and I thought about it. Then I thought about it a bit more. By the time I decided that I was going to order it, it was either sold out in the places I was looking or wouldn't deliver to where I live. The country I live in also never had any shops listed on the official pages. In the end, I did manage to order it from Spain and then waited with some trepidation whether I had fallen for a scam or managed to order the genuine thing. When it arrived, I visually inspected the box and then gave it into hiding to be wrapped for Christmas.

After a month of waiting, I was finally able to open the package, hook it up and get my first taste of what using a Spectrum was like. It looks and feels like the real thing, at least to someone who never held the real thing in his hands. I can write basic programs - haven't yet, but there are a few listings in old computer magazines I want to try. I can play the 48 games included on the device, and I can play the games I download off the internet. I am very happy with that purchase, and only hope that I will be able to spend a bit more time on it, with what all my other retro distractions...

Which brings me to TheVIC20. Retro Games had brought out TheC64 Mini and Maxi some time ago already, and I had always thought I wasn't really interested. I have two real original C64 machines, cassette deck, several disk drives, and can run emulators on my gaming PC, on my phone, on my little MacBook, what more could I ask for?

Well, after experiencing The Spectrum, I realised how much easier it can be to use a remake. So, I started to feel that I'd like to have TheC64 too. The only problem is that they are old, and the availability is not that great. Except for the Mini, but I didn't want that. I did want to have a machine that has a keyboard that I can use and looks and feels physically like the real thing. Getting the Maxi from ebay seemed possible, but most of the time one would end up paying a lot more.

Various German sites would every now and then list the Maxi, but either they would not deliver where I am, or I would think about it too long and then they were gone. I was also looking at TheVIC20 with some interest but wasn't really considering it until I realised that it was the same machine as TheC64 Maxi with slightly different look. Both had both C64 and VIC20 modes, so getting one would mean having both. And then suddenly TheVIC20 became something I'd really like to have, it would be visually different from the C64 machines I had, and would expand my collection with another computer model next to filling the role of being the easy-to-use substitute for the real C64. I also remember the Vic20 tv commercials from when I was a kid, and I have to admit it was something I wanted to have at the time.

From then on I was checking for both, with the thought that I'd buy one when either becomes available. And then, a new C64 Maxi was available again on a popular online site. The only problem was it promised delivery in 4+ months. Ok, I thought I can wait and placed my order.

What I then noticed is that TheVIC20 was also available, and promised delivery on Friday same week. There were 3 units available. I thought about it, but didn't act on it. Checking again later that day, the availability of the VIC20 had gone from 3 to 1, and I made a quick decision to place an order for one and cancel TheC64.

After some anxious waiting, it arrived. I had thought to keep it for my birthday, which is in about 4 months, but was easily convinced to try it out right away. It is everything it promises to be. Now the only problem is not having enough spare time to play with all my toys, especially with the Batocera Linux installation I have also going on, but that is something for a separate post. Might have to write more about The Spectrum and TheVIC20/TheC64 too as I manage to spend a bit more time with them.

Fiction: My mail order time machine, fifth part

 My mail order time machine

Fifth 

Yet another visit from the future, this time from the robot overlord’s human relations overseer. His appearance reminded me of Maximilian from The Black Hole. He said he came by to let me know they were keeping a close eye on my twitter feed and that I should be careful. I said I don’t use twitter and for a moment he appeared slightly perplexed but then just told me to remember what he just said when I do start using twitter. I saw he was running on Android, so asked if he had any updates that would work with my Galaxy S3. While he was inspecting my phone I deactivated him with a frying pan. Glad I bought the big one, though I probably should have emptied it before hitting him over the head with it. After cleaning up, I modified his remains to run my NAS drive. 

The following morning, I woke up with a mild headache. I must stop doing this, I thought, but was not sure if I meant the waking up part, or the part that led to the headache. Of course, I still had not quite cracked the cause for the reoccurring headache. Maybe I should watch a bit less television and try to read something other than subtitles for a while. Like a book, for example. I used to read a lot of books when I was younger. But over the years at some point, I had stopped reading, though I was still buying books. And while I had been starting to read several books, I hadn’t managed to consistently put in the time to finish any for a while. I walked over to my bookshelf and looked at the rows of books. I could immediately see half a dozen that had a bookmark in them, usually somewhere between the first quarter and the halfway mark. I picked up one of them and decided I would try to continue reading that one. It was a fictional story about a conflict between my home country and its neighbour. Always a potentially current topic, and there had been plenty of non-fictional conflicts over the centuries. Even if the most recent years had been reasonably peaceful there were always some rumblings below the surface. I had started reading this particular book a couple of years ago so it might be necessary to re-read some bits but that should be ok as long as I then continued to finish it. I put the book on my desk, next to the computer and went to the bathroom to take a shower. While I was taking a shower I heard a noise from the apartment. Great, the idiots are back, I thought. They better not be breaking anything. For a moment I felt worried about the possibility of them deciding to take my time machines, but then I decided that if that's what happens then that is what happens. If I don’t have a time machine I cannot travel in time. Well, except the way everyone does; slowly and in one direction without control. I had managed quite well like that before and I’m sure I’d manage again. And I probably could just order another one if I really felt that I needed to be hopping around in time and space. Realising that made my attempt to deprive my future self of a time machine seem even more foolish. And what else could they do? I thought about it while I was rinsing the shampoo from my hair. Eat my food? Drink my drinks? Play my games. They are welcome to all of it. Maybe I should charge them though. Perhaps I could have them pay to come eat, drink and play video games at my place. It would be like a bar. Illegal bar, of course, but with very specific clientele. Only I am allowed in. I smiled to myself. When I was done showering, I quickly grabbed the towel and wiped the excess water off my body before wrapping the towel around my waist and stepping out of the bathroom. “Hey, I had a brilliant idea,” I started as I walked into the living room, and then stopped dead on my tracks. In the middle of the room was a huge red robot. “Me too,” the robot said in a slightly metallic voice. “Ok.” I looked at the robot. The robot looked back at me. Or at lesast that’s what I thought it was doing. It didn’t make a move. “I’ll just put my clothes on,” I said. “In the bedroom,” I added, pointing backwards over my shoulder with my thumb. The robot turned its head slightly to the side and then turned it back. “Yes, do that,” it then said. I walked slowly backwards until I was out of sight of the robot and then turned and dashed into the bedroom and closed the door behind me, leaning back against it. Ok, so that is happening now, I thought to myself. I have a robot in my living room. No doubt it came from the future. Could it be the overlord itself? No, probably not. Also, it seemed to have arrived alone. I peeked through the curtains over to my balcony and the little bridge to the stairwell. There was no-one. Also, no-thing. I opened the balcony door and went out to peek over the balcony railing down to the courtyard. It was also empty. Well, almost, I saw a ground floor neighbour walking by. She glanced up and waved with a friendly “Hi”. “Hi,” I said back and went back inside. I hoped she had not seen anything inappropriate. I took my towel off and finished drying myself. Then I took some clean clothes from the wardrobe and got myself dressed up. I was about to return to the living room, when I thought maybe it would be better to run off. I went back to the balcony. All I had to do was to jump over the railing to the bridge to the stairwell, go down the stairs and leave. And then what? Come home later, and the robot would probably be waiting. Or it would just come back another time. Unless I was willing to leave my home and not return ever again, trying to run away now would eventually not make any difference. The robot might also not like being ran off on. It had been quite polite so far, but that could be different the next we would meet. I went back in, closed the balcony door and walked back into the living room. “Good choice,” the robot said. “You don’t always make a good choice.” The words and the tone gave me the chills. The robot reminded me of a famous film robot, I thought. Maximilian, I think the name was. From the film The Black Hole. I had actually never seen the film. I had read a comic book adaptation of it, or at least part of it, a long time ago. Also, I had some collected images from the film when I was a kid. There were candy boxes that came with images from movies on the back side that the kids, me included, would cut out and store in boxes or glue on pages of small booklets. I remember having quite a few from various Superman films – the ones starring the incredible Christopher Reeve in the title role, and some from the film The Black Hole. And that’s where I remembered Maximilian from. “My name is Max,” it started. “Of course,” I said enthusiastically. “I thought you reminded me of Maxim -” The robot seemed pleased. “Ah you know Max?” “Err, sure.” I wasn’t sure if it was talking about the same “Max” I had thought of. The robot seemed even more pleased. “He was the best, wasn’t he?” “Sure...” The robot leaned towards me. “Or are you more of a Leclerc fan?” I had no idea what the robot was talking about, but this was going into the wrong direction. “No, Max is the greatest. So, you are Max, named after the great Max.” The robot seemed somewhat pleased again. Though I am not quite sure how I thought I could see that. “How can I help you?” I decided to try to move things along. “Ah yes.” The robot clapped its hands together and rubbed them against each other. Its arms had slightly more sophisticated range of motions than Maximilian and seemed to have some kind of cushioning in its hands. “How can you help me,” the robot repeated my question. “Yes, how can I help you?” I repeated my question myself. This was going well. “There is one thing.” The robot stopped rubbing its hands together. It looked at me pointedly. Or so I imagined. “What is that? One thing? That I can do to help you?” “You should be careful with what you tweet.” With what I what, I thought, and then I said it out loud. “With what I what?” “With your tweets,” the robot said. “Right.” “We are keeping an eye on your twitter feed.” "We?” “You?” “No, I meant, who is ‘we’?” “Ah. ‘We’ is me and my colleagues in the human relations department. I am the overseer of the department.” “Ok. That's good. But I don’t use twitter,” I said, and the robot seemed somewhat taken aback by that statement. It looked like it was checking its internal notes, then it pulled a pad from its shoulder (really) and tapped it a few times with a soft touch pen that emerged from the tip of its finger.

Touch pen, I thought to myself, being obviously something a robot with no human fingers would have to use. Unless it would get some kind of an upgrade for natural fingertips. Then again, for a robot that would be unnatural, as naturally they do not have human-like fingertips. Though when it comes to robots one could wonder if there is anything that could be described as natural, as their nature is naturally rather unnatural. Why the robots would use a device with an interface designed for humans, though, was another question to ponder. “But it does say here that you are -” it started, pulling me back out from my thoughts, but then paused. A moment later it continued. “Ok, I get it. I’ve arrived slightly earlier than I had intended.” “A premature arrival? Is that a common problem?” The robot put away the pad and looked back at me. “Not really.” The tone did not encourage pursuing any further witty comebacks. “Ok, so you are not using twitter yet, but -” "But when I do sign up, I’ll surely be careful with my tweeting,” I offered. This seemed to fall well on the robot. “Good.” “Allrighty then,” I said. “Say, I noticed your pad was running on android.” The robot glanced at its shoulder. “Yes. It is the official operating system for the evil robot corporation.” “But isn't their motto ‘do no evil’?” "I believe you are confused. The evil robot corporation is inherently evil in thoughts and words and deeds. That is why they have the word evil in their name.” “So not trying to hide it. That’s good, not trying to mislead the public. But I meant the creators of android.” “They had a somewhat similar motto at some point, yes. But that was a long time ago, and it was mostly pretend anyway.” The robot paused for a moment as if to invite me to comment. I didn’t. The robot did not have the ability to have facial expressions, but I thought it looked disappointed at my lack of engagement. “It is still delightfully ironic, isn’t it?” the robot then continued. “If you say so.” I wondered if it was a good time to start a discussion on meaning of the words ironic and sarcastic, and when to use which. And when to opt for something else altogether. I decided against it. For all I knew, the robot was using the word correctly. “I do. Say so. What is your interest in android though?” I shrugged. “I have an older version running on my phone, so I thought it was just somehow cool to see the operating system has survived so long and even being used by the robots.” “Your version is probably not as much as older as you’d think. We went for a fairly bare-bones early version rather than those later super bloated versions with all the bells and whistles nobody wanted, missed or asked for.” The robot extended its hand. “May I have a look?” I hesitated. “I will not install anything without your permission. Or remove anything.” It paused for a moment. “And I won’t look at your pictures.” “Well ok then.” I sometimes consider myself somewhat gullible. I retrieved my phone from the side table and handed it over. “If you have any useful updates, just go ahead and install them, and while you’re at it I’d appreciate if you cleaned things up a little bit.” I said. The robot looked at me. I realised I had just given it the permission to install and remove whatever it wanted. But at least it wouldn’t look at my pictures. The robot hunched over my phone, then it looked up at me. “What’s the pin code?” “The year of my birth,” I replied. “Which calendar?” the robot asked. I offered a blank look. “I cannot access my calendar functions without specifying the calendar type,” it explained. I offered another blank look. “We are currently in early 2000s, right?” I nodded, and the robot looked down at my device again. “Gregorian then,” it said and tapped the numbers on my phone screen with its touch pen. The phone unlocked. At that moment, watching the robot hunched over my phone going through all the settings and apps in high speed (as high as the old phone allowed), I had an idea. I dismissed the idea at first as something that was a bit too dangerous and somewhat unlikely to work, but after five seconds I managed to convince myself otherwise. “Do you mind if I make some tea for myself, while you’re checking the phone?” I asked. The robot did not look up, nor was there a pause in its movements. “Sure, no problem. Earl grey for me, if you have it.” Ok, the robot has the same taste in tea as I do. By the way, making tea was not the idea I mentioned earlier. I went over to the kitchen corner and filled a kettle with water, turning it on. I rummaged through the cupboards and pulled out two mugs and a box of teabags. I suspected the robot can somehow see me, or at least hear what I’m doing even when its attention seemed to be directed towards phone, so I went through all the right motions. “I think I’ll make myself some late breakfast too,” I said and opened the fridge. I took out a carton of eggs and a small package of precut hamstrips. The cupboard next to the fridge was where I stored my frying pans, and I pulled one out. It was the new one I had bought couple of weeks ago, and it was the biggest pan I’d ever had. I put it on the stove and turned the heat on. I was waiting for the kettle to get noisy, and in the meantime I had to continue acting as if I was actually going to make my breakfast. Except I didn’t quite know how to pretend doing so, so I just went ahead and continued to actually make my breakfast. Oh, and by the way, making breakfast was not the idea either. I drizzled some oil in the pan and emptied the package of the strips of ham into it. After a moment I cracked open two eggs and dropped the contents into the pan and started stirring. Sprinkle of salt and pepper, and it was getting ready. I noticed the kettle was making a lot of noise. I glanced over to the robot. It was still busy with my phone. I looked at the pan, with my breakfast in it. I looked back at the robot. This was the idea. Kind of, anyway. Minus the ham and eggs. I picked up the pan and turned swinging the pan in a wide arch leaving behind a trail of half fried ham and eggs, forcing the pan to slam edge first at the robot's head. The robot simply collapsed and made no further movements. Now I had done it. If the threat of the robots had been looming somewhere in the background before, after this action it would surely become more concrete. I looked down at the collapsed robot at my feet and wondered what to do with it. Then a thought popped into my head: I’ll open it. I always enjoy opening things and looking at the insides, figuring out how something works. Or why something does not work, especially after I have first opened them once just to check out how they work. I went to get my tools and started dismantling the robot. After a while I was looking at something that resembled more a pile of assorted computer parts than an evil robot. I had set aside the internal solid state drives. According to their markings that was a total of a whopping 32 Terabytes of storage space. The disk controller was also easily identified and separated from the rest. The whole design of the robot was rather modular, and made for easy scavenging. The cameras would find a new life as part of my new security setup. The drives and the disk controllers would be fitted into my network storage unit. The lights and the speakers I’d use to set up something cool. I sorted all the pieces into bags and boxes and stored them with the rest of my electronics. Some of the bigger pieces of the outer casing I set aside to sell online along with a few other smaller components. All in all, it was a good haul. I posted my adds online and retired to my sofa to read the book I had picked up earlier that morning. I ended up reading almost the whole day, and apart from stopping to have something to eat and drink, I only interrupted myself every now and then to check on my adds, answer questions from potential buyers and close the deals. At the end of the day I had made a few hundred euros from selling various pieces on online marketplaces. Before calling it a day, I wrote an update to my followers. “Yet another visit from the future, this time from the robot overlord’s human relations overseer. His appearance reminded me of Maximilian from The Black Hole. He said he came by to let me know they were keeping a close eye on my twitter feed and that I should be careful. I said I don’t use twitter and for a moment he appeared slightly perplexed but then just told me to remember what he just said when I do start using twitter. I saw he was running on Android, so asked if he had any updates that would work with my Galaxy S3. While he was inspecting my phone I deactivated him with a frying pan. Glad I bought the big one, though I probably should have emptied it before hitting him over the head with it. After cleaning up, I modified his remains to run my NAS drive.” After posting the message, I turned the computer off and went back to my book. Later that night, I woke up to go to bed.

 

Poem 3

What can I say? Less is better? Would that apply to this poem too?

a boulder 

a rock 

a pebble 

a grain 

dust 

me 

Poem 2

 I think this is somehow metaphorical.

once I watched a tree grow 

competing with a mountain 

it grew as high as it could 

but couldn’t reach the summit 

eventually the tree toppled 

the mountain still remained