Path: shooty.gweep.net!beatnik.gweep.net!sidehack.gweep.net!not-for-mail
From: drdt@sidehack.gweep.net (Uncle Don Ross)
Newsgroups: gweepnet.yarn
Subject: Re: Okay, who put him up to this?
Date: 16 May 1996 19:42:43 -0400
Organization: GweepNet, the GweepCo Cooperative Network - Worcester, MA
Lines: 70
Message-ID: <4ngehj$b5c@sidehack.gweep.net>
References:    
NNTP-Posting-Host: sidehack.gweep.net

In article , Josh Brandt  wrote:
>
> "Now," muttered Gates, as they flew toward the secret cave, "for the lousy
> Commies."

---


The boys were silent.  Joey stared at the computer screen, while Tubs amused
himself making faces at the flourescent fish that lit the damp, but cozy
cave.  Gates was nowhere in sight, summoned at the most inopportune moment
by his uncle to 'make himself useful around the house'.  The boys had
sighed, but what could you do?  At least he had waited until they had saved
the world before deciding he needed the old refregerator compacted.

Joey sighed again and made little clickety-clickety noises on the keyboard,
and then waited some more.  The computer was sooo slow...

Four jetpacks sat forlornly in the corner.  It was to Gates' credit that he
had thought to collect the bodies of their fallen operators, but the devices
had proven to be inferior even to the ones given them by their dark master
when they became superheroes.  Then again, Joey had pointed out, they didn't
rely on the magical crystals found only in the Gatescave for power, so
perhaps they could be analyzed for mass production and sale later.

One thing the Tremendous Trio could have used was a steady income.

Tubs was lying on his back, catching water droplets on his tongue from a
stalactite that hung somewhere in the darkness above him.  He fancied that
it was raspberry flavored... Joey shook his head.  Gargantuboy was really
good at the one thing he was good at, but you had to wonder sometimes.

There was a beep, and Joey slammed his fist down in frustration.  "I don't
-get- it!  Why can't this stupid machine just pick the identity of the four
Commies that Burke killed out of the world population database based on a
best fit match on blood type, fingerprints, shoe size and hair color?  What
else does it want?  Blood?  No, I gave it that..."

"Maybe," Tubs answered, his mouth full of water, "it doesn't like you?"

"Yeah, thanks, G-man.  Now get up here and help me before I pull the lever
that cuts that thing loose from the ceiling."

Tubs appeared at his side.  "Sorry, Joey.  That wasn't funny.  How about if
you cross-index the search laterally with a binary matrix of all potential
candidates, normalized for the time available and filtered according to the
already-established parameters of the search?"

Joey blinked.  "What?"

"Only check records of known Communists."

Joey blinked again.  "But Tubs, there -are- no known Communists in the
database.  That is the thing about Commies.  You don't know that that is
what they are.  If we had a database of known..." Joey trailed off.  After a
moment, he turned back to the keyboard excitedly.

"Then again, we can rule out people who are known NON-Communists!"  There
was a flurry of typing, and he and Tubs stared expectantly at the screen. 
There was a long pause, during which time the wheels of the giant computer
whirred and clicked.

They were still sitting there when Gates came in an hour later, flexing his
crushing fingers.  "So, guys, you find anything?"

"Um..."  Joey was nervous.  "Maybe."  He was staring at a slip of paper in
his hand, the product of the computer's machinations.

Tubs spoke up.  "Yeah, ever heard of anyone named... um... Jack Fist?"



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