RE: The Windsurfing Package

From: Armas, Earl A (PB-eaarmas) (EAARMAS@msg.PacBell.COM-DeleteThis)
Date: Mon Jul 28 1997 - 08:56:14 PDT

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Message-Id: <c=US%a=_%p=Pacific_Telesis%l=MSGSRV10A-970728155614Z-84748@msgsrv99.srv.pacbell.com-DeleteThis>
From: "Armas, Earl A (PB-eaarmas)" <EAARMAS@msg.PacBell.COM-DeleteThis>
To: "'wind_talk@opus.hpl.hp.com-DeleteThis'" <wind_talk@opus.hpl.hp.com-DeleteThis>
Subject: RE: The Windsurfing Package
Date: Mon, 28 Jul 1997 08:56:14 -0700
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Welcome Back Luigi!! Now you can even start designing
some new T-Shirts!

E
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Earl A. Armas
Systems Management Infrastructure & Strategy
Phone # : 510.901.8880
Internet : eaarmas@pacbell.com-DeleteThis
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Go fast, bear off, jump, straighten front arm, sheet in!

>----------
>From: Luigi Semenzato[SMTP:luigi@Nersc.GOV-DeleteThis]
>Sent: Friday, July 25, 1997 11:22 PM
>To: Multiple recipients of list
>Subject: The Windsurfing Package
>
>
>I am no longer working at a start-up, so I have time for extravagant
>self-entertainment, like cleaning up this short piece of windsurfing
>fiction I wrote two years ago. Hope you like it. ---Luigi
>
>P.S. Ken Poulton gave me good suggestions for improvements.
>
>
>-------------------------------------------------------------
>THE WINDSURFING PACKAGE
>
>Copyright (C) Luigi Semenzato, 1995. Not for commercial or wide
>redistribution. OK to copy for friends.
>
>
>San Francisco, 2095 A.D.
>
>`This looks okay, but don't you have anything better?'
>
>The clerk's eyes gleamed.
>
>The clerk was happy. It had been a slow morning, but this customer
>was making up for it plenty. He was a man in his late thirties or
>early forties, tanned and athletic. He was buying from scratch, not
>just upgrading or replacing some component. He was getting the whole
>thing and had already picked a bunch of expensive gear. `The rule of
>thumb is that you want to spend about the same on software as you do
>on hardware.'
>
>The man was reading the large print on the shrink-wrapped box he held.
>`Yes, but I was hoping to reuse some software. I've got a lot of good
>stuff already loaded. For instance I have Mogul King.'
>
>`Oh yes, I use it too. It's great.' In the winter, the store
>specialized in skiing equipment. `But we don't recommend mixing skill
>packages. There are too many compatibility problems. And it doesn't
>save you much.'
>
>`I'm not worried about cost.' The clerk had guessed that much. `I
>have a finely tuned Basic Balance driver that I want to keep using.'
>
>`Oh... is it SOMA compliant?'
>
>`Yes, SOMA 2.3.'
>
>`Sir, I'm quite sure TurboWind can handle that. And if you have any
>problem we'll give you an exchange or a full refund.'
>
>`Excellent. I'll get TurboWind then. Can you install it?'
>
>`Sure, we'll do that. Have a seat here while I fetch the PortaZapper.
>Are you going to sail this afternoon?'
>
>`That's the plan. A friend is taking me to Crissy. He sails there
>all the time.'
>
>`Tell you what, we'll download a Crissy guide for free.'
>
>`Thank you.'
>
>`OK, I'm probing now. Oh-oh, looks like you are getting a call.'
>
>`Yes, I think it's my friend. Please hold one second.'
>
>`John?' The voice came from no direction in particular, but it was
>loud and clear, as it was being fed directly into John's auditory
>nerve.
>
>`Hi Roger, what's up?'
>
>`I was wondering, how's the shopping? Are you done yet?'
>
>`Almost, why?'
>
>`Oh, not much. The wind is averaging twenty-eight knots.' Roger
>succeeded in saying that nonchalantly.
>
>`Ah. Is that good?'
>
>`What! GOOD? You are kidding me. It's fantastic. It's not been
>this good for two years. You don't have the software yet, eh?'
>
>`Just about to download it. See you at the beach, and save some
>energies to show me around.'
>
>`Over.'
>
>`OK, I'm done' said John to the clerk.
>
>`Have you turned the neurophone off?'
>
>`Yes. Let's do it.'
>
>The clerk placed on John's head a U-shaped piece of plastic, decorated
>with a row of red and green blinking lights. Then he went behind the
>sales desk and looked at a screen. `Oh. You have never windsurfed
>before?' he asked.
>
>`No, why?'
>
>`Well, usually people want to give it a try it before they go out and
>buy top-of-the-line equipment.'
>
>`Oh, I am not worried. I know I'll like it.'
>
>`You'll love it for sure. OK... almost done... two more
>terabytes... done.'
>
>`Whoa! How big is it?'
>
>`Pretty big. It's years of experience from top-class racers, plus
>precise models for board and sail dynamics. You'll be surprised at
>how much you'll be able to do. Let's see... your rig is in your
>car... payment's done... all set. Have fun, sir.'
>
>----------
>
>John parked next to Roger's yellow van at Crissy Field. Roger wasn't
>there. The view was magnificent: the three-tiered Golden Gate Bridge,
>the green Marin Headlands, the skyscrapers of Sausalito. The wind
>lifted dust and rocked John's car. He unloaded it and started
>rigging. It came naturally, even though he had never done it before.
>It took him only fractions of a second to recognize grommets, pulleys,
>hooks, and levers. In a few minutes the board was ready, its sail
>taut and eager to fly. He put his drysuit on and carried his rig to
>the beach, balancing against the gusts, pleasantly surprised by its
>lightness. Whitecaps decorated every swell, and he felt a rush of
>anticipation along with a twinge of fear.
>
>Several sailors rested on the beach, but Roger was not among them.
>John decided not to wait. He was too eager to join the crowd of
>speeding sailors among the swell. He was going to be a Windsurfer.
>He walked into the water, stepped on the board, and took off. He held
>his breath for two long seconds, then he laughed and screamed.
>
>John was a Windsurfer. And a good one too. He played around a bit,
>adjusted his harness, then decided to go for speed. He became one
>with sail and board. His eyes scanned the water for the smoothest
>path, his hands sensed tiny variations in wind speed and corrected for
>it. He passed many other windsurfers, and was still accelerating when
>his fin hit.
>
>What it hit, he never knew. It was large enough to bring the board to
>a dead stop. He had the scant consolation of knowing exactly what was
>happening to him as it happened. His body was traveling at forty
>miles per hour, and certain physical laws dictated that it should
>continue to do so. His feet were pulled from the footstraps and he
>was launched in a curved path, the centripetal force courtesy of the
>harness line. He hit the water so hard that he thought he was going
>to reboot. As he flew, he carried the mast along, and both mast and
>boom broke in several parts. He found himself in an unfamiliar liquid
>environment, the remains of his equipment several feet away, and he
>realized he no longer knew how to swim.
>
>How could that happen? He had installed SwimWare 1.0 many years
>before and it had always worked fine. He had thought about
>hard-learning it; but these days, the only people who had the time to
>hard-learn were the super-rich and the bums. He frantically flapped
>his arms around, trying to keep his head out of the water and as high
>as he could. The board floated: he needed to get to the board. He
>figured that if he flapped in a certain way he might move towards it.
>The strategy was ineffective, but the wind pushed the board his way,
>and soon he was able to grasp it. He was exhausted and clung to the
>board panting and coughing. Five minutes later he lifted his head
>again, looked up towards the bridge, and saw the looming bow of a
>hovertanker coming straight at him.
>
>He scanned his memory enhancement looking for the help file. It
>wasn't there! What kind of lousy installation did the frikken frakken
>shop... He had a hunch and checked the free space: zero. No wonder.
>It was SOMA's fault, that hog. How could it let the extended memory
>overflow without even a single warning? Curse it and curse the bunch
>of idiots at Neurosoft; it was their fault, solely their fault, that
>John Lanzinger was going to be run over by a hovertanker at the young
>age of forty-two.
>
>He looked around and noticed that many windsurfers were headed in his
>direction. Had they seen him? Were they coming to help him? Would
>they make it in time? Then he remember the Crissy guide. He was
>surprised to find it. He thought `hovertanker' and found the entry.
>The ship was getting closer, a huge roaring foam-spraying black bow.
>John figured out why the sailors were coming his way: the
>turbine-induced wind near the skirt made for a fun ride. And as the
>screaming monster was almost upon him, and he was preparing to die, he
>also knew that it had no submerged parts, and he would be safe, except
>he should go under the surface and stay there for thirty seconds to
>protect his hearing.
>
>With the swimming software gone, no way was he going under the
>surface. Never mind the hearing, he would just get microphone
>implants. Probably better quality than his ears anyhow. There was a
>brief maelstrom of wind and spray and then utter blackness and
>horrible noise which seemed to last forever. But eventually he was
>out in the sunlight again, apparently with some hearing left, and a
>much simpler problem to solve.
>
>The problem solved itself when Roger arrived a little while later. `I
>saw you earlier, and tried to chase you but you were going out real
>fast and I had no chance of catching up. I saw you crash. I figured
>you knew about the hovertanker.'
>
>`Well, sort of.'
>
>`Here, tie this to your mast base and I'll tow you to shore... what's
>the matter, can't you let go of the board?'
>
>`Uhm, I better not, I can't swim.'
>
>`You can't swim?' John explained the situation. `Have you tried
>rebooting?' suggested Roger.
>
>`I didn't dare, but now that you're here...'
>
>`Go for it.'
>
>`OK'. John rebooted. He found himself in the middle of the San
>Francisco Bay, near the Golden Gate Bridge. It took him a minute to
>figure how he got there. His jaw ached.
>
>`Man, you're seriously messed up' said Roger. `You were stuck in an
>infinite reboot loop. I had to punch you twice.'
>
>`Oh. Thank you.'
>
>`Does it work now?'
>
>`I don't know. I'm afraid to try.'
>
>`Try with your legs only.' John took a few, regular strokes with his
>legs. `Seems to work' he said. He let go, and was able to swim.
>They tied the line, ditched the broken gear, and Roger towed his
>friend to shore.
>
>`I think I'll go home now and run some diagnostics' John told Roger.
>
>`I can't blame you. See you tomorrow?'
>
>`OK, tomorrow.' John went to his car, loaded the board, got in,
>settled in the driver seat, sighed, and looked down.
>
>Now what in the world were those pedals for?
>

Next message: Zeev Gur: "a wonderfully windy weekend"
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Maybe in reply to: Luigi Semenzato: "The Windsurfing Package"
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