stubborn machine angrily, dismantled it and took the empathizer out. Then he turned in on again.
“Hello—” started the device, but Galileo interrupted it: “Just to prove a point,” he said, “I am going to retrieve the information without your help. Observe.” He hooked the empathizer up to a mighty battery of weird-looking diagnostic equipment.
“You can’t,” said the electric shrink, and it was right.
~
Two hours later the empathizer surrendered to the intense examinations and burned out.
“Told you so,” said the electric shrink. “Hello. Call me Alice...”
Fury took hold of Galileo. It was not the mere anger of mortal men, the causes of which are trivial, as are, mostly, its consequences. It was a flaming, focused, controlled fury. World wars had erupted over less than this.
But Galileo was, after all, a Backyard Scientist. He threw something heavy at the babbling shrink, which immediately gibbered into a silence filled with electronic background noises, then opened a drawer, pulled out some strings and transistors...
“ I have got you ...” whispered the shrink to itself.
... got a few dozen one-KiloFarad-per-unit capacitors and a microprocessor out from under his bed...
“... under my skin...”
... took apart a bicycle he found in the shed, rummaged through the remains of the empathizer...
“I have got you...”
... turned the entire house upside down until he found some electrodes in the refrigerator...
“... deep in the heart of me...”
... and in precisely twenty minutes he had built a love machine. Such was his rage.
“So deep in my heart, you’re nearly a part of me...”
A flying hammer found the electric shrink and silenced it.
“ Underrr my skiiinnnn ...” slurred the contraption, and then naught else.
Galileo went to sleep.
~
The next morning the sun, amazingly, came up. Johnny was just finishing up spray-painting a street sign he had come upon at the back of one of the fancy hair salons in Da Vinci Street. He stood, admiring his work, namely:
When all of the sudden Galileo appeared, hair wild, lab coat stained even more than usual, pushing a rusty, noisy shopping cart.
“There you are,” he panted. “Look at this: supposeand(when), which means, ergo...”
“?!” finished Johnny in amazement. “But you hate math! What happened?”
“I have to find out what stage you’re at,” said the misomathematist in determination and lifted an iron chain out of the shopping cart. “Put it on!”
“I... what?”
“Put this on,” said Galileo. “I’ll explain later.”
~
There’s no point in recounting the rest of the conversation. Suffice it to say that it included the mentioning of such names as Planck, Maxwell, Pascal, at least one Byron, a hint of Hawking and a leg of Lennon. The chain Johnny was made to wear was, naturally, the first half of the love machine, which, according to Galileo, made use of principles of induction, relativity and data compression in order to achieve a “superposition” or something or other.
“So,” said Johnny, deep in thought, “this thing is supposed to analyze my brain waves and then—”
“No, no,” said Galileo. “There’s no such thing as ‘brain waves.’ ‘Waves’ are nothing but a simplistic representation of something far more complex. From a Newtonian point of view—”
“No brain waves, then,” said Johnny. “Whatever. So, this thing analyzes something in my brain in whatever manner—”
“Induction. Heightened sensitivity. I’ve already explained that. It’s like Pavlov’s cat: you don’t know whether it’s alive or drooling until you’ve opened the box. This device opens the box—to use a very simplistic metaphor—and—”
“Yeah,” said Johnny. “Great. So this thing analyzes something in my brain, somehow , and then sends it to you, right?”
“Precisely,” said Galileo, and took the second half of the love machine out of the cart.
“Couldn’t you have built
“Hello—” started the device, but Galileo interrupted it: “Just to prove a point,” he said, “I am going to retrieve the information without your help. Observe.” He hooked the empathizer up to a mighty battery of weird-looking diagnostic equipment.
“You can’t,” said the electric shrink, and it was right.
~
Two hours later the empathizer surrendered to the intense examinations and burned out.
“Told you so,” said the electric shrink. “Hello. Call me Alice...”
Fury took hold of Galileo. It was not the mere anger of mortal men, the causes of which are trivial, as are, mostly, its consequences. It was a flaming, focused, controlled fury. World wars had erupted over less than this.
But Galileo was, after all, a Backyard Scientist. He threw something heavy at the babbling shrink, which immediately gibbered into a silence filled with electronic background noises, then opened a drawer, pulled out some strings and transistors...
“ I have got you ...” whispered the shrink to itself.
... got a few dozen one-KiloFarad-per-unit capacitors and a microprocessor out from under his bed...
“... under my skin...”
... took apart a bicycle he found in the shed, rummaged through the remains of the empathizer...
“I have got you...”
... turned the entire house upside down until he found some electrodes in the refrigerator...
“... deep in the heart of me...”
... and in precisely twenty minutes he had built a love machine. Such was his rage.
“So deep in my heart, you’re nearly a part of me...”
A flying hammer found the electric shrink and silenced it.
“ Underrr my skiiinnnn ...” slurred the contraption, and then naught else.
Galileo went to sleep.
~
The next morning the sun, amazingly, came up. Johnny was just finishing up spray-painting a street sign he had come upon at the back of one of the fancy hair salons in Da Vinci Street. He stood, admiring his work, namely:
When all of the sudden Galileo appeared, hair wild, lab coat stained even more than usual, pushing a rusty, noisy shopping cart.
“There you are,” he panted. “Look at this: supposeand(when), which means, ergo...”
“?!” finished Johnny in amazement. “But you hate math! What happened?”
“I have to find out what stage you’re at,” said the misomathematist in determination and lifted an iron chain out of the shopping cart. “Put it on!”
“I... what?”
“Put this on,” said Galileo. “I’ll explain later.”
~
There’s no point in recounting the rest of the conversation. Suffice it to say that it included the mentioning of such names as Planck, Maxwell, Pascal, at least one Byron, a hint of Hawking and a leg of Lennon. The chain Johnny was made to wear was, naturally, the first half of the love machine, which, according to Galileo, made use of principles of induction, relativity and data compression in order to achieve a “superposition” or something or other.
“So,” said Johnny, deep in thought, “this thing is supposed to analyze my brain waves and then—”
“No, no,” said Galileo. “There’s no such thing as ‘brain waves.’ ‘Waves’ are nothing but a simplistic representation of something far more complex. From a Newtonian point of view—”
“No brain waves, then,” said Johnny. “Whatever. So, this thing analyzes something in my brain in whatever manner—”
“Induction. Heightened sensitivity. I’ve already explained that. It’s like Pavlov’s cat: you don’t know whether it’s alive or drooling until you’ve opened the box. This device opens the box—to use a very simplistic metaphor—and—”
“Yeah,” said Johnny. “Great. So this thing analyzes something in my brain, somehow , and then sends it to you, right?”
“Precisely,” said Galileo, and took the second half of the love machine out of the cart.
“Couldn’t you have built
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