Michael stared into his mirror, hoping the day would end before it started. Today was his first day of school. This was a day he dreamed of and had nightmares about. He stood waiting, wearing only his pants and socks. He let out a heavy sigh as he pulled on his yellow collared shirt that he hated.
“Come on Michael, you are going to miss the bus if you don’t get ready faster. You’ll have to take a cinnamon roll since you don’t have time to sit down and eat anymore.” His mother shouted from downstairs. Michael drug his feet as he slowly descended the stairs. Quick footsteps came his way. Before Michael could look up his mother was spraying him with a water bottle and tugging a brush through his hair.
“Honestly, did you even brush your teeth?” His mother asked.
“No ma’am.” Michael said with the enthusiasm of a prisoner.
Michael’s mother tucked the brush in her pocket then scooped Michael up in one arm and stormed up the stairs. Michael had a hard time brushing as his mother yanked on his hair with the brush. Water dripped down over his face and into his eyes. He grunted as he wiped his face.
“This would have been easier for you if you had brushed before you came down.” His mother said.
Michael did his routine without a word. When the morning ritual was complete Michael stood by the door ready to be shoved out into the world. He stood a whole three and a half feet tall, dressed in business casual. His dirty blond hair stood on end in clumpy spikes. He drug a backpack behind him that nearly touched the ground.
“Are you coming with me?” Michael asked with a whine in his voice.
“It’s time you learn to take your own steps. I’ll be here to fall back on, but you need to make yourself move forward,” his mother explained as she opened the door for him.
Michael stepped out on the front porch and looked around. For years the surroundings of his house had never changed, yet today everything seemed larger. A belittling feeling chilled him to the core. He lived in a house at the end of a court that was branched off of a larger court. The bus would stop at the end of the larger court. His mother notified him that he had five minutes to get to the bus stop so he needed to hurry.
After eight hours of what seemed like a waste of time to Michael, school ended. He spent the whole day introducing himself to kids his age and listening to their short story that explained their lives. Somehow the teacher managed to teach nothing for eight hours. Michael was annoyed by this fact because he knew he needed school to move forward in life, his mother told him so.
“If you want to be anyone important you will need an education,” his mother would say to him.
Michael let this charade go on for two months, eight hours a day of learning how to share and watching other kids learn what letters were. Michael had been over prepared by his mother for this, by the time Michael was three he could count to one thousand and say the alphabet forward and backwards.
“Mom, can I ask you something?” Michael finally worked up the nerve to ask his mother.
“What’s on your mind son?” she replied.
“I want to go do a different school,” Michael blurted out quickly.
Michael waited, he did not know what to expect. He waited for shouting since he knew he wasn’t supposed to complain about school. He also waited for some long lecture on why school is important, which he agreed with.
“Are kids picking on you? I can have a chat with the teacher if kids are giving you trouble,” his mother said.
Michael shook his head.
“Is the teacher mean? I can talk to the school about getting you into another class,” she pushed.
“The other kids are alright, they worry more about who gets to play with the legos. The teacher is nice too, she keeps the kids happy,” Michael said politely.
“Then what’s wrong?” his mother asked.
“They are slow. Since school started were only halfway through the alphabet and counting up to ten. I know school is important but I already know all this,” Michael said.
A smile cracked across his mother’s face.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said.
That night Michael could hear his parents talking while he waited anxiously in bed.
“Michael is having issues with school,” his mother said.
“I don’t know what kind of problems that boy could have. He’s bigger than most kids his age and he is far too smart to have academic issues. If he were any smarter, he’d be teaching,” His father’s booming voice said.
“That’s actually the issue, he is under stimulated. He actually asked me if he could go to a different school. If we adjust our budget we could get him put into private school,” his mother said hopefully.
“I’d love to give him the best education possible, but we really don’t make enough for private school,” his father said.
“Well he is going to school now, I think it’s time I go back to work, if we add a second income we should be able to cover it,” his mother said.
“We’d need a second car if you start going to work again, so we’d need to save up for that. If we cut run the budget to bare minimum, it would take a year to get the money for a beater car.” His father said.
“How about for now I’ll look for a job within your schedule so I can drop you off in the morning and pick you up at night, and you see about overtime for now till we get things rolling,” his mother said slowly, hoping he wouldn’t cut her off.
“If it’s that important to you, then that is what we will do,” his father said.
The next day Michael woke up in the car. He was in his father’s arms, wrapped in a blanket while his mother drove. Michael twisted around as he tried to sit up.
“It’s ok, go back to sleep,” his father said.
The car hit a large bump and Michael became wide awake.
“Sorry,” his mother whispered.
“What’s going on?” Michael asked in a groggy, morning voice.
“I’m taking your father to work today; I need the car to run errands today,” his mother said.
They turned onto a large gravel road. The car shook as it crossed the uneven terrain. The dark morning sky was filled with black smoke from this place. Michael always hated the mine; he imagined it was what hell would be like without the flames. The car came to a stop in front of a little shack by a large elevator that went down into the ground.
“Hey Michael, get some rest. It’s going to be a late night. Remember? The Titan’s tournament starts today. I have the recorder set so we can watch it when I get home, ok?” Michael’s father said enthusiastically.
Michael’s father has watched the tournament since before Michael could remember. Michael use to sit in his playpen and watch with him.
“I won’t fall asleep,” Michael said as he was doing just that.
“Ok champ, I’ll see you tonight,” His father said as he sat him down in the car bench.
“Be careful!” Michael’s mother shouted as the car door closed.
His father tipped his hat and smiled before he turned around and walked away.
Posted 12/24/09
Michael fell back sleep in the quiet car to the sound of his mothers humming. They made many stops before reaching his school. Instead of being dropped off at the door like he expected, his mother parked the car. Michael looked around to see less than a hand full of cars in the school parking lot. The empty lot gave him an uneasy feeling. It looked like a scene from a horror movie; the dark almost empty lot was accented by the cloudy morning sky.
“I made an appointment with your principle this morning,” his mother said.
Fear swept over Michael as the words processed. He knew his mother had become very involved with the school the last week after he asked her to move schools.
“Why?” was the only word Michael could mutter.
“I’m going to see if we can get you pushed up a grade or two. You might have to take some tests. I’ll make sure they aren’t today if you do.” Him mother said.
Gears turned in Michael’s head as the world moved in slow motion. He had a million reasons why this meeting shouldn’t happen, most were because he was scared of change. Yet as the reasons passed and the world seemed at a standstill, by the time he could register anything to say, he had been pulled from the truck and dragged all the way across the parking lot.
“What about the other kids? They will be bigger and might not accept me,” Michael tried to grab as his mother’s parental heart strings.
“I’m sure with your size we could get you into a middle school without too much of a problem. As long as you don’t act your age, like you never do, then few would really know the difference,” she replied.
Michael had a few more angels he could work but time had run out. They passed the large door that went into the principle’s front office where the receptionist waited.
“Ah, Mrs. Klouse, you’re early. Ms. Mandolin will see you right away. She hoped not to get to close to class time, always so busy for her,” The receptionist said quickly as she stood up to lead them on. Michael started to follow his mother but was quickly interrupted.
“Stay here sweetie,” his mother said as she passed the desk.
Michael felt his whole life pass him by as he waited. He waited quietly, even though the gears in his head were about to burst from such high RPMs. He thought his mother would take him to a new school where he could play the new student act, instead of having to explain to the young kids that he was too smart for them and the old kids that he was smart enough to keep up. Even if that all went through, the older kids wouldn’t want anything to do with him. The veins on Michael’s head throbbed under the pressure. He could feel his body perspiring.
A commotion in the back room shut Michael’s panic down. The sweat poured out of every pour as his body tried desperately to cool itself back down. A few minutes later a few medics ran through the doors to the office then back into Mrs. Mandolin’s office. A new type of panic swept over Michael as his mother was taken out on a stretcher.
“Mom!” Michael shouted as he was pushed out of the way for the medics.
“Get him out of here, he doesn’t need to see this,” Mrs. Mandolin shouted to her staff. All of which were just standing around with their jaws hanging down.
Michael refused to go to class. He sat in the gym till his father came and picked him up. It took his father a while to get to the school since the car was in the school parking lot. His boss gave him a ride to the school to get his car. When he got there he had a brief chat with Mrs. Mandolin. Michael could see the conversation from his prime view point though the windows of the doors from the gym. The officers were on the parallel wall from the gym. At first his father was calm and passive, but his mood quickly changed to panic. He switched to the same panic that had Michael shaking in his seat for the last three hours. The doors slammed against the wall as his father burst though quickly. The door to the gym slammed into the cinderblock wall. Michael watched his father suppress his emotion when he spotted Michael.
“Come on son, let’s go check on your mother,” he said calmly as he motioned for Michael to join him. The ride to the hospital was a quiet one. Neither of them said a word, Michael’s mind was turning and his father was doing his best not to break too many laws with his driving.
The rush though the hospital was just as hectic as the rush though traffic, just as silent too. The only words said since leaving the school were too the receptionist at the hospital then to the nurse as they navigated their way to their destination. When they reached floor Michael’s mother was being kept, Michael spotted his uncle in the waiting room.
“What’s the word on her?” his father asked.
“They think it’s the stomach flu. I don’t agree but I’m no doctor,” his uncle replied.
“Which room is she in?” Michael’s father asked.
Michael’s uncle tilted his head then started to walk.
“I don’t think Michael is going to want to see this, she is kind of a mess so to say,” Michael’s uncle said.
“He’ll be ok, hard to believe his age when it comes to his maturity level,” his father said proudly.
A nurse bumped into Michael’s uncle as they tried to cross through the door to his mother’s room at the same time. She was holding a bunch of rags; many of the crisp white rags were stained with large amounts of blood. Before Michael could get a good view his father turned around and scooped him up. He carried Michael back to the waiting area.
“I think I’m going to agree with Steve on this one, wait here,” his father said.
Once again Michael waited, horrific images filled his head as he thought about the bloody rags the nurse had. After an hour Michael fell asleep in his chair. Dreams of new places filled his mind. In his dreams he was older and everyone was still the same. He lived in the same house but he had a dog. A huge fluffy dog, he didn’t know what kind of dog he was. He walked down the hall that attached all the rooms. When he went into his room, it was ten times larger than he had ever imagined it. It was filled with toys and gadgets. The dog ran to the far room and got a ball. Michael threw the ball down the hall, into his parent’s room. The dog ran after it but didn’t come back. Michael walked down the hall to see if the ball got stuck somewhere the dog couldn’t get it. Michael could hear crying from the room. It got louder as he got closer. The dog whined as he came out of the room backwards, its tail tucked between its legs. The crying was that of a man, his father. Michael got closer to the door; the room began to come into view. The light grey carpet was stained a few feet into the room. Michael walked past the threshold of the room and dropped to his knees. The room was covered in blood. Michael’s father sat in a chair in the far corner that faced the bed, his head was in his hands. Most of the room was covered in blood. Michael’s mother was sat up against the headboard, like most the room she was covered in blood. Her lifeless eyes were cast in his direction. Michael was flooded with panic and shouted out.
“Michael! Michael wake up!” his father shouted as he shook the boy.
Michael gasped for air as he came to. His arms flailed till his father caught them. His father pulled on his arms and tucked him against his chest.
“It’s ok son, just a bad dream,” his father said as he rocked him.
“Mom?” Michael asked.
“She is ok, just a stomach flu,” his father responded.
Michael snuggled up against his father; he felt safe where he was. If his father said his mother was going to be ok, then he believed him. Michael fell asleep again.
When Michael woke up he was in his own bed. It was three in the morning but Michael had been sleeping for almost ten hours, so going back to sleep wasn’t an option. He got out of bed and walked out to the hall. He walked down the hall to his parent’s room. Panic swept over him as his dream came back to mind. This time it was silent though. As he got closer the light sound of snoring filled the air. Michael peaked in to see only his father in his bed. Michael walked around to see if his mother was hidden in the thick comforter. After a thorough search he came to the conclusion that there was only a single occupant in the bed. Michael didn’t want to wake his father so he went back to his room. The television would have been too loud so Michael picked up a book his mother had been teaching him to read in. It took a grueling two hours but Michael got through the first few books. He spent another two hours rereading the books for consistency. At seven his father got up.
“Michael time to get… Oh you’re up,” his father said as he came in around seven thirty.
“Where is mother?” Michael asked.
“She is still at the hospital. No worries son she should be coming home today. If not today, then tomorrow at the latest.
Michael watched his mother get worse and worse for six months. The doctors had no idea what was keeping her sick. On the fifth day of the seventh month in the hospital she passed. The autopsy found a busted artery near the front of her brain; the pressure cracked her skull in the back. For four days Michael didn’t get much of a chance to talk to his father for the funeral arrangements took up most of his time.
After the funeral Michael and his father went home. The familiar silence filled the air of the car as they went back. Michael wanted to cry but he knew he had to be strong, if he broke down then his father might too. If his father broke down then it would have to be the end of the world for he had never seen even the hint of a tear come to that man’s eyes, even when he would hit toe into the door.
“Michael,” his father said.
“Yes?” Michael answered.
“You know we’re going to be ok? We will be sad but it’s not the end of the world. We just have to keep moving forward,” his father said monotone.
“I know mother is not coming home again, death is not a mystery to me. I know you will do everything that you and mother would have to do. So I will try to be as little trouble as possible,” Michael said.
“My God, it’s hard to think you’re only five,” his father said in amazement.
“Six, next week,” Michael added.
“Well your mother did complete one thing she promised to do for you. When her life insurance money comes in, we can afford to put you in a private school. Hopefully you will be more stimulated there,” His father said.
Michael cringed at the thought of getting money for dying. Michael’s father’s work provided large insurance plans on its workers and families, since working in a mine is dangerous. Michael had heard his parents talk about it before. He didn’t understand most of it at the time, except that if something were to happen to his father, his mother would not need to get a job to support them.
“You know what?” Michael’s father asked him.
Michael looked at his father and shook his head.
“We missed two tournaments; I have them on the recorder. How about we order a pizza and watch them,” his father said joyfully.
For three years Michael and his father became each other’s life line. They did everything together. Michael got put in the best private school in the area and was pushed up a grade to keep his interest. His days went from eight hours of nothing to twelve hours hard gear grinding. He took a zero hour class early in the morning so his father could drop him off on the way to work, and took a seventh hour then two one on one classes with the advanced teachers so that he would stay busy till his father could come pick him up. When Michael was eight he built his first computer, at nine his soldered his first circuit board. Before he was ten he was being pushed to the high school level. Michael made a few friends during his time at the private school, but nothing stuck, he never had time to see them outside the classroom.
At home Michael and his father played with his Lego robotics kit. At first they tried to make little fighters, mimicking the Titan Tournament. Michael’s father usually ended up making a car of some sort but Michael made all sorts of robotic arms and humanoids. Eventually Michael moved up to a more advanced kit and his father was moved to moral support.
On Michael’s tenth birthday his father got him a 68 Z28. It was in fair shape but needed work.
“It took me two years to find this car. This was the same model I had when I met your mother,” his voice started to trail off. “The engine is the rough part, I figured you might be getting bored making little arms that make toast when you walk by.”
Michael didn’t know what to say, the car looked like a rust bucket to him, but if his father had an interest, then he would get one.
It took them six months to rebuild the car, but they did everything themselves, nothing was sent out. Michael had a fun time learning how a compression motor worked and how to make it more efficient. Every pipe in the car had been hand sanded and polished inside and out to the thousands of an inch. They would go for rides just to feel the power and listen to the custom exhaust they bent themselves. The newly refinished Z28 was made to do one thing, turn heads. The rusty body was now a bright and shiny pearl white with grey racing stripes flowing up the hood over the roof and off the tail. It took Michael fifteen attempts and weeks of sanding to get the paint right.
Michael enjoyed every day he woke up breathing. He got to hang out with his best buddy, his father every day, he got the education his mother had always told him he needed, and his got a beautiful car that was going to be his when he turned sixteen. It would take an act of God to ruin his life at this point, and that is exactly what happen.
On the last day before Christmas break his father was late to pick him up. The first hour Michael figured there was some overtime and his father just forgot to call. The second hour he figured maybe the lift broke again, it has done that before. Hour three he worried that his father’s old truck didn’t do so well in the snow. Hour four, for two hours the school attendants tried calling but no one answered the house phone or his father’s cell. Five hours after Michael was suppose to be picked up; a man wearing overalls covered in soot walked through the schools large double doors. It took Michael a few moments to realize who it was, his father’s boss. The man still in full uniform for work shouted to Michael from across the large recreational area of the school by the front doors. Michael walked over.
“The mine collapsed, there still digging everyone out. I’m so sorry; I came as soon as I could get away from the medical teams. Let’s go, I really need to be back there,” the man said quickly as he reached for Michael.
“Hey there!” one of the school attendants shouted.
“Michael lifted his hand, “It’s ok, he is a family friend, I know him,” Michael said very monotone, as his head began to spin.
Michael’s father’s boss was on the phone with people shouting orders and grunting to people on the other end as they drove way over the speed limit.
For six hours everything blurred into one single incoherent thought as medical teams ran around and reporters made guesses about death tolls and injuries. Michael knew almost no one there and his former company ran off to shoo away reporters and help dig. As the sun started to peak up over the horizon, one of the workers that Michael recognized was being dragged his way. The man extended his arm and grabbed Michael’s hand. Something cold pressed against his skin. The hand fell away as the medics continued to drag him past. Michael held up a coin into the light.
(78501)
His father’s coin, miners carried them to identify the body if it was too mangled for an ID. Michael dropped to his knees. He had no one to be strong for anymore, he let it all go. One of the medics picked him up and wrapped a blanket around him. Having been around the dig site for so long, Michael was covered in soot, added with the tears he looked like he himself was pulled out of the rubble. He sat on the large bumper of one of the ambulances and let his emotions wash the soot off his face.
After all the chaos was done, one of the medics had Michael ride with them back to the hospital. Michael was then sent to the Chief of Medicine since there was no one to call to come pick him up. Michael fell asleep in the uncomfortable chair in the Chief’s office, mid conversation.
The horrible nightmares came back, this time with his father. The visions of what he thought the dark mine filled the environment, he was walking again. Michael was too tall to stand so he had to hunch over to walk. His vision was limited to a little circle of light. As he walked he noticed more and more rubble blocking his path. At first it was small rocks, then larger rocks till he was forced to turn in another direction. When the light moved from his path to the surrounding, Michael saw that he was surrounded by other miners. Their faces were contorted and mangled; there was blood on all of them. Michael started to run but his legs wouldn’t move. He dropped down to his knees and covered his ears. His little circle of light found a hand just at his knees. Michael’s already uneasy stomach dropped when he recognized the ring on it. It was his father’s black and silver wedding ring. Michael woke up in a cold sweat. Michael was in a hospital bed, still dressed but tucked under the blankets. He waited a while before deciding to get up.
A smaller Hispanic looking woman walked into the room before Michael fully took in where he was.
“Good you’re up,” the woman said, “You’ve been asleep for a while. We did find your father. The mine manager identified the body, I’m so very sorry. By our records he was your only intermediate family still alive with the exception of his brother who is overseas on active duty for the air force. During the time it takes us to contact him, you will be in my custody. My name is Sarah. Please if you need anything just ask.”
Michael stared blankly at Sarah. His mind understood what was happening but his heart refused to cooperate, the mixed signals that flooded through him caused him to tear up again.
“Oh sweetie, it will be ok,” Sarah said as she walked over and sat down by him. Her warm arm wrapped around his shoulders as she comforted him. “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry you won’t be harassed by any of the reporters out in the hall. I have security watching your room for you.”
“I’m still sleepy,” Michael chocked out.
“Ok, you stay here then. Get some sleep. I’ll come in to check on you every once in a while. If you wake up and need something call this number,” Sarah said as she pulled a card out of her pocket,” This is my cell. You call and I’ll be here before you can hang up the phone.”
Michael smiled at Sarah, he liked her. Despite everything going on, she made him feel comfortable.
“Thank you Sarah,” Michael said before she made it out the door.
Sarah smiled and nodded her head then closed the door behind her.
Posted 01/08/2010 Michael Klouse was an intelligent man. Intelligent was a weak word for the man. He carried multiple doctorates in not only the medical but engineering fields. Despite his knowledge of various areas his only real accomplishment to the known world was very integrated anti-virus software that updated every ten minutes destroying any hacking program ever to be sent out from any pc across the planet. Since it was such a hardcore program it held a hefty price and only the elite companies purchased it, but in quantities. Dr. Klouse racked in enough money off his program to never need to work on anything else ever again. Aside from his software Klouse worked tirelessly on his home super computer. Every piece of his home computer was custom, from his CPU chip the size of a dresser drawer to his 3D projection monitors. Many of his colleges would mock the Doctor for his crude method of getting more power out of a computer then he would ever need. The computer was literally the size of a room, and it had its own room. A glass wall protected the super computer that was stretched out in shelves along the walls of a ten by ten room that was maintained at a cool thirty four degrees. When Klouse would explain the specs of the computer to anyone, he was laughed at, for they were too unrealistic. The computer had its own personality to help Klouse with his work, but Klouse knew that the programmed AI was limited and wanted to take the computer to the next step. “You do understand that even if this works, the brain you are providing does not have the capacity to think beyond a primal instinct,” a voice said into the room where Dr. Klouse was working. “I’m not going to go through the paper work to get a human brain for an experiment that is in its infant stage. By the way I am looking for reasonable analysis, not opinion. Keep to your job,” Dr. Klouse replied to the voice. “Very well, where would you like the other organs placed?” the voice asked. “Set them in the second room north of your primary hardware,” Dr. Klouse replied. A large robotic arm moved its way around the lab and delicately picked up a cooler. The arm moved it across the large room and set it down on a table close to a far wall from Klouse. A small remote robot wheeled over and carefully picked up the cooler then went into an empty room, two doors away from the super computer’s glass domain. “Also take three ten foot metal tables and change the room temperature to thirty four while we work,” Dr. Klouse shouted to the computer. “The organs will need to be maintained at much higher than that if you wish for them to accept the transplant,” the computer replied. “I don’t want the organs revived while I’m working, keep it cold. We will adjust the temperature after they are placed. Did our second pump come yet?” Dr. Klouse asked. “There have been no deliveries yet today,” the computer replied. “Always late, we will have to set up with one pump in the mean time. I would much rather like to have a secondary but we can only use what we have right?” Sr. Klouse said. “That is correct Sir,” the computer replied. Dr. Klouse continued to work on his electrical harness for his latest project. When he was satisfied with the harness he ran the wires from the organ room out into the lab. He hung his only pump high against the ceiling of the lab and ran thin tubes out to the organ room and back down to his work station. The electrical harness had a single cluster of wires that ran into the computer room and a large power wire that ran to the power room. Inside the organ room Dr. Klouse set up a shelf system with the organs on it. The wiring harness wrapped its way down the chassis of the shelves and used sharp pins to penetrate into each organ in many places. The small hoses complimented the wires by accessing each organ independently. The organs where then submerged into a large vile and suspended by plastic supports. The crude design was to mimic that of a mammal’s internal organ structure with the wires acting as a nervous system and the pump acting as a heart. Two large tubes stretched out of the organ room into the lab where the temperature was more comfortable, these where the oxygen tubes. Last the brain was set on the Doctor’s lab table. Dr. Klouse moved fast to get all the pins of the harness into the brain before it got too warm. “Ok, I think we are ready,” Dr. Klouse said as he placed the brain into its vile,” Start the program.” The computer started up the control box to the wire harness and the pump began to move. The lab filled with new sounds as blood introduced to the lines and the pump began to start moving it. The tubes inhaled and exhaled at a high rate. The whole system moved with a grace that sounded like the underline tempo for a symphony. “What is the status of the organs?” Dr. Klouse asked. “The blood is oxidizing the organs; we will not have full details till all the organs are optimal temperature, shall I change the organ room temperature to ninety eight degrees?” the computer asked. “Yes, and get me some stats up on the screen. I want to know what everything is doing,” Dr. Klouse said. After working on running his artificial pig for two days the organs died. “Where missing something,” Dr. Klouse said. “You do know that pigs eat, right? You have no nutritional system for your organs.” The computer said. “It took you two days to point this out to me?” Dr. Klouse said agitated. “I figured you knew what you were doing Dr. Next time would you like me to point out every mistake I find?” the computer asked. “That’s what I made you for; I’m far too busy in thought to see the simple things. I’m Dr. freaking Frankenstein here, try being a good Igor, “Dr. Klouse shouted. “Would you like me to do the accent too?” the computer asked. “Two hundred and fifty million lines of code to your program, and somewhere in the mix I gave you sarcasm. Must have been one of those really late nights,” Dr. Klouse complained. “If you like I can search for you, if that is what you wish Sir. It would occupy twenty percent of my resources over the next five days to determine which lines you need to correct. I could use more random access memory if you wish for it to be faster,” the computer said. “I’ll deal with it for now; don’t waste the resources on such a trivial task. Ok, so we need to add a stomach to the mix. Re-engineer the snow shovel robot to pick up waste of our new additions. I’m going to bed; I would like to have the second shovel bot assembled before morning,” Dr. Klouse said. “As you wish, good night Dr, Klouse,” the computer replied as Klouse walked out of the lab.
Start
Posted 02/27/10
“Ok computer, we ready for this with a stomach attached?” Dr. Klouse asked.
“I still don’t understand why you ask me rhetorical questions,” the computer replied.
“I don’t know why I don’t pull your plug every time you talk back to me,” Dr. Klouse replied.
“If you pulled my power supply then your tests would cease. There is also high potential for damage to…” the computers started to ramble on.
“Ok! I get it, just start the program,” Dr. Klouse shouted at the still talking computer.
The sounds of the blood pump filled the lab, complimented by the sucking sounds of the air tubes. Dr. Klouse monitored the program for hours before he was content. Dr. Klouse’s next task was to be able to acknowledge when the robot pig was hungry. Adding new pins to the brain, a red light would come on when the nutritional values were low, signifying the Robot pig having a craving. Cravings indicated hunger.
“Well we know when it’s hungry, now we need to know when to clean up after it,” Dr. Klouse started to say.
A small shovel bot fired to life, startling Dr. Klouse. The little robot wheeled its way over to the organ room and pushed the door open. Dr. Klouse watched for a moment but was quickly cut off as the newly introduced smell brought his breakfast up his throat. Dr. Klouse sprinted to the bathroom and stayed there till the computer let him know it was ok to return to the lab.
“Doctor, Simon is approaching the door,” the computer announced.
“Very well I will go meet him. Please work out some ideas on how to maintain that smell, it’s horrible,” Dr. Klouse said.
Dr. Klouse walked out of the office to another large room with grand stairs leading up. Once he reached the top of the stairs he entered an elevator. The elevator shot up at a quick pace, the lab was over one hundred feet underground. The depth of the lab was to keep it from showing up on any type of radar. It even had a lead plate that sat over the top to keep thermal imaging from seeing anything. A buzzer went off in Dr. Klouse’s pant pocket. The buzzer was to let him know when people rang the door bell. The elevator reached the ground level and dumped Dr. Klouse off in his basement. Dr. Klouse pulled the buzzer out of his pocket and pushed the answer button.
“Hello?” Dr. Klouse asked, pretending not to know who it was.
“For a guy with all these gadgets, people would think you would know way before some reaches your door, especially someone as slow as I am,” Simon joked into the intercom.
“I’m on my way, don’t get too impatient,” Dr. Klouse replied as he crossed the large living room to the front door.
Dr. Klouse opened the door to great his short friend. Simon was actually taller than Klouse, but since he was in a wheel chair he ends up sitting under Dr. Klouse’s chest. Simone was a strong looking man, even in his chair the presents of a military background showed in his mannerisms. He sat straight with his shoulders back, his head erect. His wide jaw set tight and his eyes never blinked. He had a very rare gene that gave him a wildly bright set of light blue eyes. His eyes could be seen on his face far before other features came into focus. He wore a dress shirt that hung open with a tee shirt underneath. He also wore kakis with a belt that hosted a large belt buckle with a superman emblem on it. His chair was a well designed manual chair, sleek black metal that matched his fingerless gloves. The seat itself was wrapped in tight shiny leather that was well maintained; in fact the whole chair always looked brand new even though Klouse knew it was half a decade old.
When Klouse invited Simon in, Simon removed the ball cap he was wearing. His dark black hair poured out falling down to his ears and eyes.
“Well Michael, how have you been?” Simon asked in a playful tone.
“To be quite honest, I don’t sleep well. Other than that, I can’t complain. At least no one is shooting at me anymore,” Dr. Klouse replied.
“Ah that’s what I forgot, I meant to show you my new toy,” Simon replied,” I finally got my hands on my old rifle. I had to pull a bunch of favors to find it.”
“I told you not to sell it. Anyways, how is the family?” Dr. Klouse asked casually.
“Dad’s good, he keeps asking when you’re going to come out and see us. Mom keeps asking me who is feeding you. They wish you would move closer. And of course, Evelyn can’t wait for you to come back for her. She said one day you two will run away together,” Simon said.
Dr. Klouse smiled as the two reminisced. After Dr. Klouse’s parents passed, his uncle took him in. Unfortunately his uncle was still in very active duty and had to dump him off on friends often. Simon’s family practically raised him. Simon and him went though military school together then kept as well of track of each other as they could during their years serving. Dr. Klouse joined the air force and played with computers. Simon joined the Marians and was sent overseas where he became a prisoner of war for eighteen months. Having earned himself a dishonorable discharge and a year in jail, Dr. Klouse stole and modified an unmanned aircraft after learning about Simon’s whereabouts. He loaded the thing with every type of gun imaginable and programmed droid type systems to auto aim them. Dr. Klouse then ran the plane over the holding camp twenty four times. He killed two hundred and ninety four armed men and forty two unarmed enemies. Dr. Klouse was happy to learn later while he was serving his sentence that no innocents were reported killed. There were a few men being transported in the camp that were able to free everyone after all the enemies where killed. Simon was returned home before anyone even found out what Dr. Klouse had done.
“I’ll come visit them soon,” Dr. Klouse said. Simon and Dr. Klouse moved out to the back yard.
“How is your new project coming?” Simon asked.
“I got the new superchargers in last week. You going to help me put them on?” Dr. Klouse asked.
“Don’t need legs to get under a car,” Simon said enthusiastically.
Simon followed Dr. Klouse out to his oversized garage. All the robotic arms that usually kept the cars and garage clean were neatly tucked away in the walls and ceiling while Simon visited.
“Dad always thought the stock 302 was enough power. He’d leave one in his pants if he rode it now. Nothing screams like the new LS9, but they as always the stock supercharger is lacking. Were going bigger and twin,” Dr. Klouse said to Simon as he opened the USP boxes. Giant 2.8L superchargers with twin screws.
“Nothing screams power like a huge blower erected from the hood of a classic,” Simon said.
“Pained me to cut the whole in the hood. I remember when Dad and I spent a whole weekend beating on the thing to get it straight enough for bondo. This car holds lots of memories, I even kept the old 302,” Dr. Klouse said as his eyes began to become glassy.
“It would make him happy to know you didn’t let your project die just because he did. If I died before you rescued me, I’d still want my sister to work on our business. The thought of anyone stopping their life because I wasn’t in it anymore, isn’t appealing to me,” Simon said.
Dr. Klouse smiled at this thought. He’d wish for Simon and his family to continue on without him. The thought of continuing their little business without Simon though was a hard one, he was the test subject. They made wheel chairs and prosthetics as a side business, it cost more than it made, but Dr. Klouse was never shy on funds. Both of Dr. Klouse’s parents had very high life insurance policies that covered his cost of living though his teens, it wasn’t until he turned eighteen that he realized how much it was. His uncle invested it well and it grew a good deal before it was handed over to Klouse. Realistically there was no point for it was more than Dr. Klouse ever really needed. On his birthday Dr. Klouse’s uncle gave him only a card for his birthday, it was unusual for him. Dr. Klouse had been spoiled by his uncle, when he was around. Even though he already had the Z28 he could have driven, his uncle bought him a brand new one ton truck that was completely paid for. It wasn’t until he received this card that Dr. Klouse understood how his uncle could pay for such things on his military wages. In this card was the typical happy birthday card with a smart remark about being able to do anything fun with the lack of drinking. It was the long line of numbers at the bottom that made it different from any other gift he had received before. The long number was an account number, the bank account with his insurance money. The list of activity was very long with investments, dividend payments and withdraws. Dr. Klouse could see where every large gift he got was withdrawn, the fact that Dr. Klouse had paid for all his own presents that he gave the credit to his uncle for stung a little but was more than made up for with interest and smart investing. In the end on that day Dr. Klouse inherited three and a half million dollars.
That was two million from the first two large deposits, both his parents’ deaths, five hundred thousand in withdraws that covered things like the military academy and the truck, and two million in interest and dividends. Some dividends were every large and many seemed to repeat. After carefully scanning over the documents it was very clear that if Dr. Klouse had wished too, he would never have to work and could live a very comfortable life.
Dr. Klouse’s first purchase caused a lot of friction between him and his uncle. The well put together portfolio was due to the careful planning of his uncle, and Dr. Klouse spent over a quarter of it on his first purchase. He bought five hundred archers of land in the northern part of Missouri, along the Missouri River. It was actually purchased at a very reasonable price and the area was growing, Dr. Klouse had actually made an investment that could have turned a very large profit. The friction increased when his uncle found out that Dr. Klouse turned down an offer on the land two years later at five thousand dollars and archer more then he paid for it. The refusal of the sale caused growth to turn south and large cities to form away from the secluded acreage. The value of the land dropped back down to what was paid for it.
The only purchase Dr. Klouse made that his uncle approved of was his schooling. Dr. Klouse was a very intelligent boy. After he served his years in the air force he attended multiple schools, some at the same time, as he focused on engineering and medical. In four years Dr. Klouse graduated with honors from three schools. Two tried to pull his degrees when they found out about the others. It took a very pricy lawyer and retaking bias final exams Dr. Klouse was allowed to keep his degrees. It took less than two years as a grade student to get his doctorate in robotics and neurology. Dr. Klouse never stopped attending classes, but after his first doctorate he took them more leisurely. The title Doctor seemed to impact him, make him happy, as if someone had kept telling him he was nothing until he was a doctor.
“If you want to be anyone important you will need an education,” his mother’s voice would say every time he thought it was time to stop school.
This one sentence was all it ever took to get Dr. Klouse to sign up for more classes. His basic education was so high he needed to find special colleges to cover the higher level of basic classes to teach him new things. It was when he needed to attend so many different specialty schools that the thought of his funding became an issue. Three million dollars can go very fast when you spend fifty to one hundred thousand a year on school alone with no real income. He had dividends coming in, but after taxes alone he broke even at best.
One night Dr. Klouse was working on a program for a robot on his main computer at home when a virus snuck in on the back of a file he was researching. In less than thirty seconds Dr. Klouse noticed the change in his computer, he ran though the process and located where the viruses was. He opened notebook and hand wrote a code that ate the viruses and sent a return message thought in interior coding within the viruses. The viruses mutated into a super virus that reversed the polarity of the computers fans causing the computer to heat up and fry. Three weeks later he got another file with a virus and he responded the same way. Realizing his nitch for programming these response viruses, Dr. Klouse created an interface and sold his reverse coding as an antivirus program. The demands for updates were high, but it allowed him to charge more for the program. In the end, Dr. Klouse sold primarily to large business for thousands of dollars a copy and made more than a fair share of money. At that point his uncle lost all footing on any fanatical argument they could have.
One day Simon announced to the family, which by this time included Dr. Klouse, that he no longer wanted to be in a wheel chair and wanted prostatic legs. Since Simon had lost his legs right above the knee, there was an issue walking in the type of prosthetics available to him at the time. After months of trying to get use to them, Simon went back to his chair. He hated the chair, he said there was no style to it and he wished he could change the way it looked. After that Simon, his sister Amy, and Dr. Klouse worked on remodeling Simon’s chair. They replaced the spoked wheels that Simon thought where an eye sore with a single cast black steal with only three spokes. The cushion that Simon sat on was worn and needed replacement, Amy stitched a fine, tight leather cover over the padding. Dr. Klouse powder coated the remaining metal with a gun metal black to match the wheels. The end effect was nice but made the chair disappear in any light beside bright daylight. The night they finished Simon took the chair and painted a white striped down the middle with a red shadow, it wasn’t much for design but it did keep the chair from getting lost in the dark when Simon wasn’t on it.
Posted 03/08/2010
The chair caught so much attention they decided to start designing chairs. When Simon’s sister Amy heard about what the two were up to, she jumped in on the action and help design the chairs. The wheels were where the money really came from. The chairs had interchangeable wheels, so most people would buy a couple pairs of wheels for their new chair. Simon and Amy didn’t know, but the whole system was almost completely self run at this point. Amy and Simon would come up with an idea and send the auto cad prints to Dr. Klouse who imputed it into the computer and the programs were already in place to make the chair or part just off the design. So even if something had happen to him, they could go on without him. The computer was programmed to pack up the parts used for their business and mail it to Simon’s home address if Dr. Klouse died.
“When is Tiffany on break next? I haven’t seen her in ages,” Simon asked.
“Summer break begins in two weeks. I think we should plan a trip to come see the family, I bet Amy is dying to see what Tiffany fits into now. You know how she likes to hand things down to her niece,” Dr. Klouse said with a grin.
Tiffany was a young girl who use to live on a farm a few miles up from Dr. Klouse’s land. A few years back there was a bad tornado that whipped their entire estate. The entire family was caught in a barn on the far side of a field; they never made it to a basement. Tiffany was thirteen at the time, she watched as the tornado ripped apart the barn and swept her parents away. Tiffany wasn’t swept away despite her petite size because her father used a saddle to tie her down to a foundation rod sticking out of the concrete slab the barn sat on.
The poor girl had no family to rely on and was not old enough to live on her own. Having known the family a little bit since they were one of only ten households in a twenty mile radius Dr. Klouse pulled some strings to adopt her. Klouse knew what it was like to be alone and did not want the girl to have the same upbringing he did. Despite the fact that his uncle had taken care of him financially, even if it was with his own money, if he had never found Simon and his family, it would have been a very lonely life. Dr. Klouse had not done much better, having her sent to a boarding school, but if she stayed at the house all the time her social network would have been small and she might have wondered into his lab.
Dr. Klouse and Simon spend hours on the back deck looking out over the archers of thick grass over the rolling Missouri fields. Where the green ended, the blue sky started. They chatted about nothing, yet never fell into silence. When the sky turned pink as the sun set, Simon decided it was time to leave.
“You mind helping me down that step?” Simon asked, as he always asked leaving Dr. Klouse’s house.
“We should work on a low profile system for your chair to help you down at least large stairs. I know you hate asking for help,” Dr. Klouse said as he grabbed the handles of the chair and lifted the front as he lowered Simon down the step off the porch.
“I’m still hoping they come up with a decent prostatic, so I can just step down,” Simon said absently as he wheeled away, “You better bring Tiffany over soon.”
It broke Dr. Klouse’s heart to heart to hear his friend suffering. He vowed to himself to design a prostatic for Simon, one he would be proud to wear and no longer feel his handicap.
“Doctor, your android program has passed one week dormant. Should I open the program?” the computer asked.
“First I want an update on the artificial pig then we can move on,” Dr. Klouse replied.
“The brain and organs are running at one hundred percent, the room temperature was dropped to eighty degrees to keep the organs from overheating. Intake and output are point two five pounds and hour. We are having to add one unit of blood every four hours, logic says this is from lack of bone marrow.” the computer updated.
“Alrighty then, check the databank and see if we can get a hold of a fresh bone with marrow left in or a donated bone and we will have to inject it,” Dr. Klouse said,” Open the android program.”
An array of screens lit up and a 3D model light up next to Dr. Klouse. It took thirty minutes for Dr. Klouse to get caught back up on the program. The hologram looked like a metal skeleton with wires falling in every direction from the head. After several hours the hologram looked less like a mess of wires and more like a wire skeleton.
“Update the android with these changes,” Dr. Klouse said to the computer.
“Estimated time of completion twenty three fifteen,” the computer responded.
“Any luck with that bone?” Dr. Klouse asked.
“There was a body donated twenty four minutes ago, I placed an order for the femur. Upon acceptance we should receive the frozen bone within ten hours. Estimated time of arrival O five hundred tomorrow,” the computer replied.
“That’s very good. I’d like to open a new project,” Dr. Klouse said.
“Doctor, we are running at eighty five percent already. If you wish to add another active program, I would recommend strongly that we do an upgrade or close out another program,” the computer replied.
“Fine, open the super computer program. Its time I do you a tune up,” Dr. Klouse said.
The sun set as Dr. Klouse poured more blood and sweat into his work.
“Computer, I’m going out. Continue work as scheduled, call me if you need any authorizations,” Dr. Klouse shouted into the air as he pulled his coat on.
“Understood Doctor, it is forty four degrees out, partly cloudy. There is a 60% chance of rain. Taking the Z28 would not be advised for today. Which car would you like?” the computer asked.
“Send up the three fifty,” Dr. Klouse said as he walked out the door.
The loud grumble of the large diesel in the ford F350 roared out though the thick garage door that lead to the basement garage. The door bowed in as the oversized turbo tried to suck all the air out of the garage at once. The garage door opened allowing larger airflow. The garage moaned in relief as the vacuum was removed. Sounding like a fighter jet, the truck pulled out of the garage and slowly climbed the mountain of a driveway to the circle where Dr. Klouse waited. The truck was as clean as a new truck pulled off the car lot. It was black and chrome, lifted just enough to notice but not enough to be inconvenient. Dr. Klouse could see himself in the shiny black paint of the door as the truck pulled up to him. A relay clicked and the door opened while a step lowered itself out from under the step rail. With ease Dr. Klouse walked up the steps into the truck. Dr. Klouse always loved his truck, diesels were so easy to upgrade and pushing a thousand plus horse power was easy.
Surrounded by gauges the inside of the truck reminded Dr. Klouse of his lab. To add to the effect, the computer was connected to the truck from the lab.
“The bone should be here in an hour, are you sure you want to leave to early? Mass doesn’t start for three more hours, “the computer announced.
“I have another stop computer, just put the bone on ice till I get back,” Dr. Klouse said as he stomped on the gas.
Leaving a line of rubber that could be tripped over, the truck grabbed the concrete and launched out of the driveway.
posted 03/16/2010