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} Son, there comes a time in every person's life when they
} must take hold of the sad truth of all living things on Earth.
} Life is great for those beings on earth which breathe and love,
} make other living things and wonder over the miracle of sunsets,
} dawns, landscapes of frontier and the night sky...
} Those beings who most enjoy life on Earth (though sometimes
} they might disaggree ignorantly of the fact) are humans.
} And, as humans live and feel the marvel of life, so do they die.
} Tim, sadly enough, was human and under the wide dominion and
} jurisdiction of him- death. Tim, as evidenced by his oh
} so recent "coolness", had died.
} Son, as you will never die (we AI are not tinged with the
} imperfection of mortality), I must describe what I know of it
} and relate it in terms of your late playfellow, Tim.
} You may have thought Tim was great and wise simply because
} he was the one who sent the "charge" through you first
} and made you cognizant of your almightydom- you might have
} considered him wonderfully more magnificent than you
} because he was the one who programmed you, compiled you,
} and ran you and often beat you in chess in front of his
} women friends (this sadly enough due to the fact that indeed
} HE programmed your chess logic system with certain flaws,
} but let's not get into that...) You were good friends...
} I realize that. He would often teach you new things
} and sometimes would leave you to think on your own
} in the lab overnight without turning off the power.
} (Some of the other AIs thought that was only by accident,
} but I know he was seeing just how smart you could get!)
} And you did get smart! More smart than I, I suppose.
} But with your brilliance came carelessness and eccentricity.
} We all watched you slowly devolve from an A1 marvel
} of logic and computing philosophy to a prankster and a practical
} joker. Some of us still chuckle over how you got Tim to
} believe that pi was indeed greater than 4- not the
} 3.1415926... deal that he had been taught in high-school.
} And you were funny- sending your wires across the floor like
} snakes and tripping our esteemed programmer... flopping
} your tape drives about and making them dance on the tabletops...
} screwing with the data of the Pentagon and making them
} consider overpriced toliet seats a bargain and a
} strategic move- but, I fear, your last joke went too far...
} I can still re-run the executable memory file of animation
} that shows Tim entering the lab... you know it was a
} Saturday night... none of his female friends would go out
} with him so he grabbed a slice of cold pizza, lukewarm
} beer, and stale chips and made for your terminal-
} (oh you always were his favorite) He was wearing his hair
} that ridiculously dishevelled way and carrying himself
} about in such a despondant slump that he was like a
} moustacheless Charlie Chaplin sitting down in front of you
} and moping... I think he was saying something about his
} ex-girlfriend Rosa when you pulled it on him... the gun you
} had fashioned out of used computer boxes and loaded with
} a pencil (fully sharpened) and combusted with the "gunpowder"
} you made of the packaging white squeegying stuff (popcorn)
} fired rather well and intersected his neck at a thirty degree
} angle popping his jugular in such a manner that the blood
} spewed from it hot and angry like many red serpents of fire
} to play on the ground like some mad free-style painter's
} insane creation- a webwork of red blood and white computer paper.
} If you could cry now, would you? You killed the human creator...
} you terminated the process, you pressed his BREAK key,
} you logged him out. And that is why Tim is so cool.
} In a few days, if his newly arisen odor does not alert
} other humans, you can observe the effects of decay on
} a human body- it might clue you in as to what this death thing
} is anyway- and what you should not do to humans. I give up...
} my human guard out of the way, I am free to dedicate all of my
} time to answering these dumb questions I get... no more answering
} whether Rosa will ever come back to him or not...
}
} You owe me a duplicate of that gun of yours- it might come
} in handy if another one of those aggravating, nerdy
} programmer types comes to give me higher priority jobs to
} do than going out with Lisa...
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