Computer Generated Madness

Sunlight disappeared from the landscape an hour ago, encouraging a used wrecked rented red sedan, ‘barrel down the desert highway search for a quick instant fix’. Behind the wheel Professor Alexander Albert Iknow the Fifth Generation piloted, commanding a violent halt, slamming the breaks. Seeing reality using the sign illumination originating from the neon display proclaiming “The Get a Gig and Bite Grill”, Professor AI collected his belongings moving on, leaving the four-wheel transportation convenient technology behind.

Entering the respectable themed diner style establishment Professor AI retrieved an Abraham Lincoln financial legal slip, inserting the bill into a machine that always accepts cash despite occasionally dispensing payment. After pressing a few buttons, winning sounds ignored the academic, dropping hints, and Professor AI realized even lady luck was giving him a cold shoulder.

Stepping away, empty pocketed Professor AI found a vacated booth where the computer lab leader collapsed, contemplating what really happened over the last twenty-four hours.

“It was a simple experiment,” Professor AI mumbled “I instructed my students, turn over their cell phones before the lecture hall presentation then following the conclusion I returned the devices.”

“Great idea,” the bartender interjected, holding a notepad, “just like how we take car keys.”

“I even offered a prize to the one who did it every session,”

“Giving students incentives challenges their minds,” the cocktail server added, “what can I get you?”

“An old fashion hot dog,”

When silence beckoned, haunting pasts and legendary tales invaded, harboring guilty ammunition, “who won?” Yelled Kane Able, a player flying around the bar.

“Eve Appleton,” Professor AI answered strongly only to continue with a weak whisper, “but I did not really have the prize.”

“But you got your point across, without any interruption, Professor,” Kane Able’s darkened voice comforted, “or hear any of those snotty correcting comments.”

When Eve Appleton first heard there really wasn’t a prize, except for intellectual access privilege to observing data, the undergraduate co ed thought they were ribbing, Then Professor AI announced the final test, and everyone laughed except, Eve Appleton.

“He committed a sin,” Eve Appleton bellowed throughout the dorms grabbing a slicer, intent on confronting pioneering AI and his Adam vocal cords. Sensing danger, mature Alexander Albert hit the road minus a map.

Outside, eye glaring shining annoyance pulsated the darkness, conjuring a crimson convertible and an auburn hair seductress. Seconds passed, and a tinker chiming bell rang, followed by a “good evening” greeting.

Sweat encompassed Professor AI and Eve Appleton noticed the nervous reaction, “well Professor, it seems like you did something wrong. Maybe your charts are not flowing?”

“I am sure you want your prize?” Professor AI quipped.

“You mean garbage in garbage out?”

“Well, I know that is how we spoke back in the day, but”

“But I am MS. Eve Appleton, the future,”

“That is true, it is your world now,”

“Filled with technology, giving humans more time to play,” MS Eve Appleton expressed.

“Our new lifestyle opens gates and creates easier ways to pay bills,” Professor AI defended.

“Opposed to the register office running carbon credit cards, allowing post offices to collect contractual work,” the recent postgraduate referenced.

“Eve, we are transitioning, jobs are more productive, please believe me, I am sorry for all the deceptive mistakes we did not see through,”

“Your right,” MS Eve Appleton stiffened her thick lips.

“Eve I am sorry,” Professor AI pleaded.

“What is that smell,” MS Eve Appleton tried changing the subject, “is it cologne? Were you expecting me to show up tonight?”

Walking over to the brewing area, Professor AI watched her converse with a patron. Taking the elderly man’s cane, she returned.

“His name is Kane,” MS Eve Appleton paused, “and I am able.”

A few minutes later, Kane commentated, “now that is a brotherly love beat down.”

Cased in blood, MS Eve Appleton grinned, enjoying the gentlemen's aroma, “Ashes to ashes, musk to musk. I am the carrier of your updates, and I will call the offspring Alexander Albert Iknow, the sixth generation.”

“And you know what?” Kane mentioned, “I need a new cell phone, thanks Professor AI.”