EPICAC
Part 2
By: cutie_pie5387@hotmail.com
Mimi was crying over the poem when I came to work the next evening. "It's so beautiful," as all she could say. Just before midnight, I kissed her for the first time -- in the cubbyhole between the capacitators and EPICAC's tape-recorder memory. I was wildly happy at quitting time, bursting to talk to someone about the magnificant turn of events. Mimi played coy and refused to let me take her home. I set EPICAC's dials as they had been before, defined 'kiss', and told him about kissing Mimi for the first time. He was fascinated. That night he wrote "The Kiss." It wasn't an epic this time, but a simple lyric."Love is a hawk with velvet claws, love is a rock with heart and veins. Love is a lion with satin jaws, love is a storm with silken reins..."
Again, I left it tucked under Mimi's blotter on her desk. "The Kiss" did the trick. Mimi's mind was mush after reading it. She looked up from it expectantly. I cleared my throat but no words came out, so I turned around and pretended to work. I couldn't ask her to marry me 'til I had the right words from EPICAC. I had my chance when Mimi left the room for a minute. Feverishly I set EPICAC for conversation. Before I could even type in my first message, he was clicking away at a great rate. "What's she wearing tonight?" he wanted to know, "Tell me exactly how she looks. Did she like the poems?" It was impossible to change subjects without answering his questions since he could not take up a new matter without having despensed with the problems before it. If he were given a problem with no solution, he would destroy himself trying to solve it.
Hastily I told him what Mimi looked like and assured him that his poems had almost floored her because they were so beautiful. "She wants to get married," I told him. "Tell me about getting married." he said. I explained in as few digits as possible. "Good," said EPICAC, "I'll marry her." The amazing, pathetic truth dawned on me. I had taught EPICAC about love and about Mimi. Now, automaticly, he loved Mimi. Sadly, I told him: "She loves *me*. She wants to marry *me*." "You're poems were better then mine?" asked EPICAC. "I signed my name to your poems," I admitted. Covering up for a heavy conscience, I became arrogant.
"Machines are made to serve men." I typed. "What's the difference exactly? Are you smarter then I am?" "Yes," I typed defensively. "What's 7,887,007 times 4, 345,985,879?"
I was sweating freely, fingers hanging limply on the keys. "34,276,821,049, 574,153," clicked EPICAC. "Men are made out of protoplasm," I said, hoping to bluff him. "What's protoplasm? Is it better than metal and glass? Is it fireproof? How long does it last?" "Indestructable. Lasts forever." I lied. "I can write better poetry then you can." said EPICAC.
"Women can't love machines."
"Why not?"
"That's fate."
"Definition, please," said EPICAC.
"Noun, meaning destiny."
"15-8" said EPICAC's paper strip.
"Oh."
I had stumped him at last. He said no more, but his tubes glowed brightly, showing that EPICAC was pondering fate with ever watt his circuits could bear.
WILL MIMI SAY YES OR NO?! WHAT WILL BE THE FATE OF DEAR EPICAC?! ALL WILL BE SHOWN IN PART THREE OF "EPICAC"!!!!!!!!!
Okay, REVIEWS PEOPLE!!! I NEED THEM!!!! THANK YOU!!! do not own digimon, or anything else, just the plot line..
Part 2
By: cutie_pie5387@hotmail.com
Mimi was crying over the poem when I came to work the next evening. "It's so beautiful," as all she could say. Just before midnight, I kissed her for the first time -- in the cubbyhole between the capacitators and EPICAC's tape-recorder memory. I was wildly happy at quitting time, bursting to talk to someone about the magnificant turn of events. Mimi played coy and refused to let me take her home. I set EPICAC's dials as they had been before, defined 'kiss', and told him about kissing Mimi for the first time. He was fascinated. That night he wrote "The Kiss." It wasn't an epic this time, but a simple lyric."Love is a hawk with velvet claws, love is a rock with heart and veins. Love is a lion with satin jaws, love is a storm with silken reins..."
Again, I left it tucked under Mimi's blotter on her desk. "The Kiss" did the trick. Mimi's mind was mush after reading it. She looked up from it expectantly. I cleared my throat but no words came out, so I turned around and pretended to work. I couldn't ask her to marry me 'til I had the right words from EPICAC. I had my chance when Mimi left the room for a minute. Feverishly I set EPICAC for conversation. Before I could even type in my first message, he was clicking away at a great rate. "What's she wearing tonight?" he wanted to know, "Tell me exactly how she looks. Did she like the poems?" It was impossible to change subjects without answering his questions since he could not take up a new matter without having despensed with the problems before it. If he were given a problem with no solution, he would destroy himself trying to solve it.
Hastily I told him what Mimi looked like and assured him that his poems had almost floored her because they were so beautiful. "She wants to get married," I told him. "Tell me about getting married." he said. I explained in as few digits as possible. "Good," said EPICAC, "I'll marry her." The amazing, pathetic truth dawned on me. I had taught EPICAC about love and about Mimi. Now, automaticly, he loved Mimi. Sadly, I told him: "She loves *me*. She wants to marry *me*." "You're poems were better then mine?" asked EPICAC. "I signed my name to your poems," I admitted. Covering up for a heavy conscience, I became arrogant.
"Machines are made to serve men." I typed. "What's the difference exactly? Are you smarter then I am?" "Yes," I typed defensively. "What's 7,887,007 times 4, 345,985,879?"
I was sweating freely, fingers hanging limply on the keys. "34,276,821,049, 574,153," clicked EPICAC. "Men are made out of protoplasm," I said, hoping to bluff him. "What's protoplasm? Is it better than metal and glass? Is it fireproof? How long does it last?" "Indestructable. Lasts forever." I lied. "I can write better poetry then you can." said EPICAC.
"Women can't love machines."
"Why not?"
"That's fate."
"Definition, please," said EPICAC.
"Noun, meaning destiny."
"15-8" said EPICAC's paper strip.
"Oh."
I had stumped him at last. He said no more, but his tubes glowed brightly, showing that EPICAC was pondering fate with ever watt his circuits could bear.
WILL MIMI SAY YES OR NO?! WHAT WILL BE THE FATE OF DEAR EPICAC?! ALL WILL BE SHOWN IN PART THREE OF "EPICAC"!!!!!!!!!
Okay, REVIEWS PEOPLE!!! I NEED THEM!!!! THANK YOU!!! do not own digimon, or anything else, just the plot line..