EPICAC
Part 1
By: cutie_pie5387@hotmail.com
A/N: This is in the USA, Izzy went there to help the States work on a super computer, and also to be with Mimi of course. maybe this is a little more about the computer but hey.. ^.~ Enjoy and REVIEW!!!
It's about time someone said something about my friend EPICAC. My wife, the former Mimi Tachikawa, and I worked on him on the night shift, from five in the afternoon 'til about two in the morning. Mimi wasn't my wife then, far from it.
That's how I came to talk to EPICAC in the first place. I loved Mimi. She was a honey haired beauty. I'm not shy, that wasn't the problem. I knew what I wanted and I wasn't afraid to ask for it. I did so several times a month. "Mimi, loosen up and marry me." One night she didn't even look up from her work. "So romantic, so poetic," she said, more to her control panel then to me. "I could get more passion from a sack of CO2."
"Well? How should I say it?" I asked, a little sore. "Try to say it sweetly, sweep me off my feet."
"Darling, angel, beloved, will you please marry me?" It was no go -- it was hopeless, ridiculous. "Please Mimi! Please marry me!" She continued to twiddle the dials placidly. "You're sweet, but you won't do," she said to me. Mimi quit early that night, leaving me alone with my troubles and EPICAC. I'm afraid I didn't get much done for the government people. I just sat there, trying to think of something poetic. I fiddled with EPICAC's dails, getting him ready for another problem. My heart wasn't in it and I only set about half of them, leaving the rest the way they were for the problem before. That way, his circuits were connected up in a random, apparently senseless fashion. And for the fun of it, I punched in a childish letters-for-numbers code: 1 for A, 2 for B, so on and so forth. "23-8-1-20-3-1-14-9-4-15," I typed, meaning, "What can I do?"
Clickety-click and out popped two inches of paper ribbon, I glanced at the nonsense answer to a nonsense problem: "23-8-1-20-19-20-8-5-20-18-15-21-2-12-5." The odds of its being a sensible message were staggering. Apathetically I decoded, "What's the trouble?" I laughed out loud at the absurd coincidence. Playfully I typed, "My girl doesn't love me." Clickety-click, "What's love? What's girl?" asked EPICAC. Flabbergasted, I noted the dail settings on his control panel, then lugged a Webster's Unabridged Dictionary to the keyboard. With a precision instrument like EPICAC, half baked definitions wouldn't do. I told him about love and girl, and about how I wasn't getting much of either ebcause I wasn't poetic. Taht got us into the subject of poetry, which I defined for him. "Is this poetry?" he asked. He began clicking away like a stenographer.
The sluggishness and stammering clicks were gone. EPICAC had found himself. The spool of paper ribbon was unwinding at an alarming rate, feeding out endless coils of numbers. I asked him to stop, but EPICAC went right on created, I finally threw the main switch to keep him from burning out. I stayed there until morning, decoding. When the sun peeped over the horizon at the Wyandotte campus, I had transposed into my own writing and signed my name to a two-hundred and eighty-nine line poem entitled: "To Mimi" I began, I remember, "Where willow wands bless rill-crossed hollow, there, thee, Mimi dear, will I follow..." I folded the manuscript and tucked it under one corner of the blotter on Mimi's desk. I reset the dails on EPICAC for a rocket trajectory problem and went home.
OKAY!!! ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER!!! muwahahahahahahahaha, it's not mimi/izzy yet, but it will be later on, trust me... okay... just wait to for the second part, this one is really gunna be good, I have faith in it.. okay I don't own digimon and stuff, blah blah... don't sue me.. e.e;;
Part 1
By: cutie_pie5387@hotmail.com
A/N: This is in the USA, Izzy went there to help the States work on a super computer, and also to be with Mimi of course. maybe this is a little more about the computer but hey.. ^.~ Enjoy and REVIEW!!!
It's about time someone said something about my friend EPICAC. My wife, the former Mimi Tachikawa, and I worked on him on the night shift, from five in the afternoon 'til about two in the morning. Mimi wasn't my wife then, far from it.
That's how I came to talk to EPICAC in the first place. I loved Mimi. She was a honey haired beauty. I'm not shy, that wasn't the problem. I knew what I wanted and I wasn't afraid to ask for it. I did so several times a month. "Mimi, loosen up and marry me." One night she didn't even look up from her work. "So romantic, so poetic," she said, more to her control panel then to me. "I could get more passion from a sack of CO2."
"Well? How should I say it?" I asked, a little sore. "Try to say it sweetly, sweep me off my feet."
"Darling, angel, beloved, will you please marry me?" It was no go -- it was hopeless, ridiculous. "Please Mimi! Please marry me!" She continued to twiddle the dials placidly. "You're sweet, but you won't do," she said to me. Mimi quit early that night, leaving me alone with my troubles and EPICAC. I'm afraid I didn't get much done for the government people. I just sat there, trying to think of something poetic. I fiddled with EPICAC's dails, getting him ready for another problem. My heart wasn't in it and I only set about half of them, leaving the rest the way they were for the problem before. That way, his circuits were connected up in a random, apparently senseless fashion. And for the fun of it, I punched in a childish letters-for-numbers code: 1 for A, 2 for B, so on and so forth. "23-8-1-20-3-1-14-9-4-15," I typed, meaning, "What can I do?"
Clickety-click and out popped two inches of paper ribbon, I glanced at the nonsense answer to a nonsense problem: "23-8-1-20-19-20-8-5-20-18-15-21-2-12-5." The odds of its being a sensible message were staggering. Apathetically I decoded, "What's the trouble?" I laughed out loud at the absurd coincidence. Playfully I typed, "My girl doesn't love me." Clickety-click, "What's love? What's girl?" asked EPICAC. Flabbergasted, I noted the dail settings on his control panel, then lugged a Webster's Unabridged Dictionary to the keyboard. With a precision instrument like EPICAC, half baked definitions wouldn't do. I told him about love and girl, and about how I wasn't getting much of either ebcause I wasn't poetic. Taht got us into the subject of poetry, which I defined for him. "Is this poetry?" he asked. He began clicking away like a stenographer.
The sluggishness and stammering clicks were gone. EPICAC had found himself. The spool of paper ribbon was unwinding at an alarming rate, feeding out endless coils of numbers. I asked him to stop, but EPICAC went right on created, I finally threw the main switch to keep him from burning out. I stayed there until morning, decoding. When the sun peeped over the horizon at the Wyandotte campus, I had transposed into my own writing and signed my name to a two-hundred and eighty-nine line poem entitled: "To Mimi" I began, I remember, "Where willow wands bless rill-crossed hollow, there, thee, Mimi dear, will I follow..." I folded the manuscript and tucked it under one corner of the blotter on Mimi's desk. I reset the dails on EPICAC for a rocket trajectory problem and went home.
OKAY!!! ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER!!! muwahahahahahahahaha, it's not mimi/izzy yet, but it will be later on, trust me... okay... just wait to for the second part, this one is really gunna be good, I have faith in it.. okay I don't own digimon and stuff, blah blah... don't sue me.. e.e;;