TITLE: Computer Science XOX
AUTHOR: sneakers
RATING: G
CLASSIFICATION: XH
SPOILERS: none
KEYWORDS: AU, sort of
SUMMARY: Trapped in a science lab, a student and X-Phile contemplates
the connection between computers and the consortium.
This is set in an alternate universe to the TV show: our real world,
the one where Mulder and Scully don't exist. It's also set about
five years ago, so don't laugh at the technical details. Okay, laugh
all you want, but not at me. (-:
Mulder and Scully and all their cohorts belong to 1013. No copyright
infringement intended, and, anyway . . . I don't have any money you
could sue me for.
Archive anywhere just let me know and leave my name attached.
Feedback welcome to xf_sneakers@mailcity.com
COMPUTER SCIENCE - X0X
by sneakers
xf_sneakers@mailcity.com
Lina Emler stared at the blank page.
Professor Boehme's words echoed in her head. "If you can't do
anything, do what you can, and work from there." No one ever said you
had to make sense to be a teacher . . .
Well, libraries were a good place to start.
#include
#include
#include . . . #xf-romantics.
#include
She grinned into the blue light of the computer screen, recalling a
near-disastrous incident involving an associate professor of biology,
a stray copy of mIRC, and a state-of-the-art Win95 Pentium that was
supposed to be used solely for biology. He was young and idealistic,
the ink barely dry on his doctorate, and had not taken well to having
the ethics of his research machine "irreversibly compromised and
violated". His terms, not hers.
So she'd learned to be furtive, telnetting through strings of machines
belonging to anything that sounded academic; public and university
libraries, a MUD with 'biotek' in its address, even back to the
university's own computer system.
A this rate, she thought, I'll be a Lone Gunman by the time I
graduate.
The idea was appealing.
. . . She'd just pulled a long shift of listening to bootlegged
wiretaps; the secrets contained therein were fascinating, but she was
ready to take a break. She had messily stuffed the tapes into a
drawer and slouched down in her desk chair when the door burst open
and Fox Mulder rushed inside. "Lina!" he cried. "I've been looking
for you guys all over! Where's Frohike? Where's Byers? Where's
Langley?" She shrugged. "No time to look for them! I've found
Samantha and I need someone to cover me while I get her out, okay?
They're holding her in . . . . .
. . . in the box that appears when you select 'libraries', pick the
'set location' button." Professor Boehme grabbed someone's umbrella
to point at the projected screen. "Then chose the 'CS 201' folder;
they should be in there."
Lina slid down in her chair, out of view of classmates and anyone else
watching. Life and libraries. Libraries and life. She fixed her
set-up, wondering why they hadn't set the right location in the first
place.
Nah, she thought, that would make too much sense. Too logical.
Almost, well . . . boolean.
Too bad real life didn't follow boolean logic . . .
if ((mulder != lovescully) && (scully != lovemulder)) {
fall_in_love(mulder, scully);
noromos.shut_up();
happily_ever.after();
}
And just how many errors would the compiler give *that* one?
She sighed, highlighted the pseudocode, jabbed at the delete key, and
went back to the cin and cout.
Ten minutes later, she was stuck again, unable to find the problem
that tripped up the whole program -- one problem -- and about sixth in
line for help.
So much for finishing during lab.
She turned the volume knob on the walkman up higher and opened Telnet.
Or, rather, tried to open Telnet. Wouldn't open. Wouldn't open.
Probably a conspiracy. She tried Control-Alt-Delete. Nothing
happened. Definitely a conspiracy.
What she wouldn't give for a DOS or Unix prompt and an error message.
Dang Windows, never let you know what it was thinking.
*Most* definitely the work of the consortium.
Why'd the ideas for fanfic always have to come at bad times? She
managed to close the non-responsive Telnet and open up some random
text editor, the words running through her head faster than her
fingers could put them to disk.
. . . . . he sat in a Redmond, Washington office complex, scrutinizing
the work of a bespectacled geek seated in front of a computer. "Your
realize, Mr. Gates," he said, puffing on the glowing stick of tobacco,
"that this is a matter of national importance. Your earlier operating
system -- MS-DOS, I believe it was -- was brilliant, at the time. A
way to control output on every computer in the world. But people
*knew* they were being manipulated, and they splintered off, so you
came up with a system that is more, as they say, user-friendly. But,
Mr. Gates, the extremely smart still saw through it. This 'Windows
95' must not be another fiasco, Mr. Gates, and there are many out
there that will snatch up this contract if you fail. But we have lost
enough time now, and I fear I have no choice but to trust you. It
needs to control *all* aspects off the operation, yet present a facade
that the average and above average user cannot -- must not -- see
through. Is that perfectly clear?" Without a word, he exited the
office in a swirl of carcinogenic smoke . .. . .
"Smoke?"
Lina squished her eyes shut as a substitute for whacking herself on
the forehead, which would have been a little too obvious. "E-mail,
Professor Boehme," she replied, tilting her chair forward in a move,
perfected with many uses, that effectively blocked all views of the
screen, scrambled around with the mouse until Borlan was on top again,
then leaned back with a thud.
"I have no illusions, Miss Emler," he said, taking the mouse and
scrolling up through her program.
"*What*?" That sounded like such a . . . a Cancerman sort of thing to
say. Her professors were working for the consortium now, too?
He sighed. "No illusions about what you were doing there. All
students do it, working on other things during lab. Can't stop it.
What's wrong with your program?"
"It won't work."
He neared the top and found the problem in five seconds. Forgot to
label the member functions as public. Of course. She laughed and
typed in the missing line where he inserted the cursor.
He kept moving the mouse up . . . and that was when she remembered the
library headers.
#include
Professor Boehme took one look at it and went on to the next student
with a backwards glance at Lina.
"I don't want to know."
THE END
Note: This story is a sequel of sorts to "What Does 'X' Equal?" and
"Control-X", both available at Gossamer. If you've made it this far,
you may enjoy them.
AUTHOR: sneakers
RATING: G
CLASSIFICATION: XH
SPOILERS: none
KEYWORDS: AU, sort of
SUMMARY: Trapped in a science lab, a student and X-Phile contemplates
the connection between computers and the consortium.
This is set in an alternate universe to the TV show: our real world,
the one where Mulder and Scully don't exist. It's also set about
five years ago, so don't laugh at the technical details. Okay, laugh
all you want, but not at me. (-:
Mulder and Scully and all their cohorts belong to 1013. No copyright
infringement intended, and, anyway . . . I don't have any money you
could sue me for.
Archive anywhere just let me know and leave my name attached.
Feedback welcome to xf_sneakers@mailcity.com
COMPUTER SCIENCE - X0X
by sneakers
xf_sneakers@mailcity.com
Lina Emler stared at the blank page.
Professor Boehme's words echoed in her head. "If you can't do
anything, do what you can, and work from there." No one ever said you
had to make sense to be a teacher . . .
Well, libraries were a good place to start.
#include
#include
#include . . . #xf-romantics.
#include
She grinned into the blue light of the computer screen, recalling a
near-disastrous incident involving an associate professor of biology,
a stray copy of mIRC, and a state-of-the-art Win95 Pentium that was
supposed to be used solely for biology. He was young and idealistic,
the ink barely dry on his doctorate, and had not taken well to having
the ethics of his research machine "irreversibly compromised and
violated". His terms, not hers.
So she'd learned to be furtive, telnetting through strings of machines
belonging to anything that sounded academic; public and university
libraries, a MUD with 'biotek' in its address, even back to the
university's own computer system.
A this rate, she thought, I'll be a Lone Gunman by the time I
graduate.
The idea was appealing.
. . . She'd just pulled a long shift of listening to bootlegged
wiretaps; the secrets contained therein were fascinating, but she was
ready to take a break. She had messily stuffed the tapes into a
drawer and slouched down in her desk chair when the door burst open
and Fox Mulder rushed inside. "Lina!" he cried. "I've been looking
for you guys all over! Where's Frohike? Where's Byers? Where's
Langley?" She shrugged. "No time to look for them! I've found
Samantha and I need someone to cover me while I get her out, okay?
They're holding her in . . . . .
. . . in the box that appears when you select 'libraries', pick the
'set location' button." Professor Boehme grabbed someone's umbrella
to point at the projected screen. "Then chose the 'CS 201' folder;
they should be in there."
Lina slid down in her chair, out of view of classmates and anyone else
watching. Life and libraries. Libraries and life. She fixed her
set-up, wondering why they hadn't set the right location in the first
place.
Nah, she thought, that would make too much sense. Too logical.
Almost, well . . . boolean.
Too bad real life didn't follow boolean logic . . .
if ((mulder != lovescully) && (scully != lovemulder)) {
fall_in_love(mulder, scully);
noromos.shut_up();
happily_ever.after();
}
And just how many errors would the compiler give *that* one?
She sighed, highlighted the pseudocode, jabbed at the delete key, and
went back to the cin and cout.
Ten minutes later, she was stuck again, unable to find the problem
that tripped up the whole program -- one problem -- and about sixth in
line for help.
So much for finishing during lab.
She turned the volume knob on the walkman up higher and opened Telnet.
Or, rather, tried to open Telnet. Wouldn't open. Wouldn't open.
Probably a conspiracy. She tried Control-Alt-Delete. Nothing
happened. Definitely a conspiracy.
What she wouldn't give for a DOS or Unix prompt and an error message.
Dang Windows, never let you know what it was thinking.
*Most* definitely the work of the consortium.
Why'd the ideas for fanfic always have to come at bad times? She
managed to close the non-responsive Telnet and open up some random
text editor, the words running through her head faster than her
fingers could put them to disk.
. . . . . he sat in a Redmond, Washington office complex, scrutinizing
the work of a bespectacled geek seated in front of a computer. "Your
realize, Mr. Gates," he said, puffing on the glowing stick of tobacco,
"that this is a matter of national importance. Your earlier operating
system -- MS-DOS, I believe it was -- was brilliant, at the time. A
way to control output on every computer in the world. But people
*knew* they were being manipulated, and they splintered off, so you
came up with a system that is more, as they say, user-friendly. But,
Mr. Gates, the extremely smart still saw through it. This 'Windows
95' must not be another fiasco, Mr. Gates, and there are many out
there that will snatch up this contract if you fail. But we have lost
enough time now, and I fear I have no choice but to trust you. It
needs to control *all* aspects off the operation, yet present a facade
that the average and above average user cannot -- must not -- see
through. Is that perfectly clear?" Without a word, he exited the
office in a swirl of carcinogenic smoke . .. . .
"Smoke?"
Lina squished her eyes shut as a substitute for whacking herself on
the forehead, which would have been a little too obvious. "E-mail,
Professor Boehme," she replied, tilting her chair forward in a move,
perfected with many uses, that effectively blocked all views of the
screen, scrambled around with the mouse until Borlan was on top again,
then leaned back with a thud.
"I have no illusions, Miss Emler," he said, taking the mouse and
scrolling up through her program.
"*What*?" That sounded like such a . . . a Cancerman sort of thing to
say. Her professors were working for the consortium now, too?
He sighed. "No illusions about what you were doing there. All
students do it, working on other things during lab. Can't stop it.
What's wrong with your program?"
"It won't work."
He neared the top and found the problem in five seconds. Forgot to
label the member functions as public. Of course. She laughed and
typed in the missing line where he inserted the cursor.
He kept moving the mouse up . . . and that was when she remembered the
library headers.
#include
Professor Boehme took one look at it and went on to the next student
with a backwards glance at Lina.
"I don't want to know."
THE END
Note: This story is a sequel of sorts to "What Does 'X' Equal?" and
"Control-X", both available at Gossamer. If you've made it this far,
you may enjoy them.