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Thursday, June 9, 2016

Saving Shipping Guy Jeff, part 4.

This is the 4th installment of a painfully long story about the battle for the shipping guy, Jeff. If you haven't read part 1part 2 and part 3  this might not make much sense. Although, there is not a lot of hope for sense even if you have read both earlier posts. But, they are readily available, and it probably wouldn't hurt, too much, to go have a quick read.

"I'm not going in there. I have seen the results of your attempts to shrink things. Do you take me for a fool?" Bob's words cut through the air, a machete slicing through our embryonic plans.

"No, of course not. Nobody thinks you're a fool." Dr, Dawg said, and everybody nodded and murmured their agreement, as they inched closer to the door. "But, not all of our attempts to shrink things have been so bad. Remember when we shrunk the tractor trailer load of lumber so we could transport it to the island off of New York? We were going to use it build a nice cabin so we could have summer vacation. Nothing bad happened when we shrank that."

"Of course, we miscalculated on the density, and it had so much mass it split the island in half, It sank the local restaurant and pub. Plus it unleashed a torrent of leeches and stinging flies, and they had to evacuate the island and douse it with napalm. Nobody will be able to live there for ten years. And they revoked our building permit, and asked us not to come back, ever." I said. "But, we found our mistake, a small decimal place. Embarrassing, sure. but it could have happened to anybody. So you wouldn't have to worry about that, probably."

Bob looked at me. His eyes glowed. An unquenchable inferno of animosity. Stoked by years of... well I don't know what, but it was awful. Looking into those eyes was uncomfortable. So I picked up my coffee, and turned to look at Jeff, who moaned softly. Which made me a little uncomfortable. So, I checked facebook on my phone.

I couldn't help but feel it was partly my fault that this hulking, smiling, laughing giant was laying there. Probably because it was partly my fault.

"How would you like to let us copy your personality, such as it is, and imprint it on a small robot. We can take your traits, and skills and transfer them to a Single Insurgency Nanobot and introduce it into Jeff's bloodstream, It could find the source of the coup, and terminate the irritant."

Doctor Dawg might be onto something.

We had been working on a Machine, Human Intelligence Interface, And it had seen some success.

"Yes," I said. "And you might be able to control most of the actions from the comfort of this office chair. Though tests have been inconclusive and we are still missing an autonomous vacuum that we sent to clean the ducts, and a lot of office supplies are disappearing, along with batteries, and construction equipment. And Billy, from accounting, who "volunteered" to implant on the roomba, has been acting a little odd. Bouncing off walls and furniture. Billy was always a little odd, though. This could really work."

"That chair doesn't look very comfortable." Bob growled.