I Found A Knife

Willie & Frank--
Shakespeare?
In Nano-Time

Chapter 9 --
Billy Banana
& The Dark Side

I spent the morning rigging up the splitter switch for the wordpad. Lunch time came and went, and no Jennifer. I went down to the dungeon to check on the mice. Willie and Frank were hard at work on the wordpad. Well, Frank was. Willie seemed glad of the break when I asked them to stop while I put the splitter in place. I showed them how it worked and watched while the tested it a couple of times. Then I grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and went back upstairs.

An hour or so later, still no Jennifer. So, I picked up a wire tester and went looking for her. A wire tester is an important multi-purpose tool for a technology support person. It allows you to see if all of those little wires that run from the back of your computer to the wall, floor, or where ever they go are actually making the little blinky lights on your computer flash in harmony with the other blinky lights out there in the world. But its real function is to make the technology support person look like he or she ( in this case me) is actually doing something work related. It's the digital version of the office clipboard. You can walk around, unquestioned, for hours, just by stopping now and then to make the tester chirp or click. In between random chirps and clicks I looked for Jennifer.

I found her on the second floor, in the gamers lab. Lots of wires to test up there. Row after row of computers. Lots of blinky lights. All of them being driven by students hard at work, or in the heat of one cyber battle or another. Recently one had become the other.

A group of professors, teacher's assistants and students had formed a research group a while back, after selling the university on the idea that it was important to study the effects of long term gaming on college students. They even got a grant for it. So far they had managed to document all of the cheat codes for a dozen different multi-player video games, each collection of which they published and sold for a tidy sum. As for the goal of the study, the results were considered inconclusive. Their last report complained of the difficulty of gathering long term data when your test subjects kept failing out of school.

On the other hand, they had just received a new grant from Shocker Soda, researching the effects of prolonged caffeine intake on the quality of gamer's skills. Jennifer was setting up some kind of open beverage bar in a corner.

“Hey,” she said when I came in. “Sorry I didn't get back to you yet. Been a bit busy. We guessed right. Lurch and Igor are gone. They won't even let them back on the campus. Doctor Marten was all for me taking over full care of Willie and Frank. But that wasn't the half of it.”

I gestured around me. “You got stuck babysitting the gamers, too?”

She nodded. “Oh, yeah. But, it may not be so bad.” She held up a two liter of Shocker Light -- 2 calories, 2wice the Buzz!

“I can keep us in caffeine for awhile.”

I shook my head. “Not me. I don't do the diet stuff. What's the sense in being wired for sound if the chemicals rot out your brain? I'll stick with the real, fully sugared varieties.”

“Suit yourself,” she said. “But don't gripe to me when you turn around and your girlish figure looks more like you ate a girl scout troop.”

“Mmm,” I shot back. “They taste just like cookies.”

“Hey, wait a second,” I said. “What do you mean girlish figure?”

“The time delayed insults really are the best, aren't they?”, she laughed.

“Ha, ha.” I put the tester on a table and sat down next to it. “The wordpad splitter is in place. Willie and Frank tested it this morning. It should do fine. But I'm not sure how long it will matter.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, how often do you think they are looking at the screens or print outs?”

“Normally I would say every day, but with the disruption today, most of the higher ups are in meetings with lawyers, trying to cover the University's ass. It could be a couple of days before they get back to normal and start auditing the print outs.”

“Ok, I just get the feeling that Frank is not going to care about the switch. His stuff is getting more introspective and pointed... almost questioning, you know?”

“Well, yeah, I saw some of that this morning. He's much more aware of his surroundings than he was two weeks ago. So?”

I took a deep breath. “So, he's going to ask us those questions. And, I think, if he doesn't like our answers, he's going to blow off that splitter switch and start asking the lab for their answers.”

“Asking questions of the man upstairs,” Jennifer said. “Don't we all....”

“Now, that's really not funny,” I said.

“No, what's not funny is that I'm stuck doing Lurch and Igor's work, as well as my own, until they find someone to replace them,” Jennifer said. She lifted another crate of two liter sodas and stacked it against the wall.

A thought occurred to me. “Hey, this isn't exactly rocket science, is it?”

“Ha, ha.”

“No, I mean, the assistant, like for this project, doesn't have to be a chem or medical student, do they?”

“Nope,” Jennifer said. “They just have to be a student, even a part time one would qualify.”

“Well, then, I may know someone who could help you out. It would be good for him, good for the lab, and good for me. It's perfect.”

She caught up as I got to the end of the sentence. “Shaun.”

I nodded. “He's always done temp jobs to get him through school. But... tonight would be just the right night to ask him about it.”

“Why?”

“Let's just wait, and let you see for yourself.” Then I smiled at her. “Hey, I might even buy you ice cream.”

After work we drove down to the Galleria. The traffic was it's usual nightmare self. Traffic in St. Louis is a sentient thing, ebbing and flowing in whichever way is most likely to cause the biggest possible congestion. You want to go east? Sorry, that's where the construction is. And, tomorrow when you want to go west, that's when the westbound lanes will be closed in order to fix what the construction crews tore up while they were repairing the other direction yesterday. North or south? Forget it. This is the Gateway City. See the arch? We do westward expansion and eastern aggression. We don't do north and south. I think during the Civil War the city sided with Canada.

Traffic was bad enough. The crowds were even worse. I hated going to the Galleria almost as much as Shaun did. That's one of the reasons I knew that tonight was the right night to talk to him.

In the Galleria parking lot is a small stand of merchant shops, bundled together in what would otherwise be just another strip mall, were it not for their location. Of course, location is everything, whether you are the store itself, or merely an abused temp. employee.

Rocky Roads is an ice cream and coffee place that faced the passing traffic at the Galleria's main traffic intersection. Ever been to a Rocky Roads? Imagine Chucky Cheese without the pizza. This is the place that neighborhood parents take all their tribes of urchin children for birthday parties. Balloons and songs, streamers and games, usually hand delivered and lead by the Rocky Roads mascot, Billy Banana. It is just the best kind of loud, boisterous kid type fun, unless you happen to be the parent paying the bill, or one of the employees. It is always packed.

I drove in from the backside and beside the building.... wouldn't want to spoil the moment. As I held the door open for Jennifer she gave me a stern look.

“So, what? He's flipping burgers, dishing ice cream? Things could be worse.”

I just smiled. We ordered and sat down. I waited while Jennifer looked around for Shaun. They brought our orders to the table.

“Are you really going to eat all that?” Jennifer asked, when I ordered.

Jennifer had ordered a double dip of Belgian chocolate in a waffle cup, a very sensible order for someone planning to eat a real meal later. Me, I ordered the Billy Banana Special. It's this monstrous three banana, twelve scoop monstrosity. It comes with a bib and a small plastic shovel. If you finish it they put a picture of you and your empty trough on the wall. It isn't a dessert. It is an event. And events require proper ceremony.

Jennifer's order delivery was a quiet “here” from a teenage, pig tailed waitress. But as she walked away the room filled with marching music. Horns sounded and drums beat. People began to clap in rhythm and chant. “Bill-y! Bill-y! Bill-y!” The double doors in the back thrust open and out came two people with a huge, polished, wooden serving plank between them, like throne bearers for the emperors of old. In the center of the plank was the trough containing the Billy Banana Special. Right behind them, marching, smiling big and looking proud, was Billy Banana himself.... my brother Shaun.

He marched around the room, leading the cheers, playing to the crowd, high fiving little kids and dancing around tables, arriving just after the trough had been transferred to the table in front of me.

He took the bright red plastic bib that had been laid over the arm of one of the attendants and whipped it into the air, opening it with a crisp, loud snap! Then he swirled it around in front of me and brought the laces around my neck to tie it in place. Billy's bright yellow costume included a couple of random dark scuffs, one of which is a sheer bit of gauze that let's the person inside the costume see out. When you are close enough, you can see the true face of Billy Banana.

I got two sensations at almost the same exact moment. The sheer joy of seeing Jennifer try not to choke on laughter, as she saw Shaun's face behind the gauze. and the sudden choking clinch as the bib's laces pulled really tight.

“There we are, Sire! Not too snug, Not too loose. A dessert fit for a king, as is your right!”” Billy pronounced loudly. He leaned in, patted me on the back, and whispered, “Dig in, Asshole.”

No way did I finish it. Not even close. But it wasn't a waste of money. I'd have paid for it twice. Gas for the trip? Three bucks. Monstrous ice cream concoction? Eight bucks. Seeing that weird combination of surprise and amusement on Jennifer's face? Oh yeah.

We dawdled around for another hour at the mall, window shopping, and then went back to the ice cream place to wait for Shaun to get off work.

“Very funny, jerkwater!” he said. “Almost as funny as it was the first five times you did it.”

“You've done this before?” Jennifer asked.

“Hey, I love a good show.”

“Remind me never to tell you about the times I worked as the mouse at Chuckee Cheese. And you sure as hell aren't ever going to see the pictures of me in the Christmas elf costume.”

“Oh man I bet even those were hot.” I kept the thought to myself.

“So what do you want, besides to make my life a living hell?” Shaun asked.

“We come bearing gifts, oh great banana,” I said. “Like a steady job that does not involve ice cream, sticky faced kids or their whiny parents.”

“Do I get to kill anybody?”

“Sure. Oh wait. No, probably not.”

He pretended to think it over. “Ok, I guess I'm in anyway.”

So, we told him about the job openings that resulted from Lurch and Igor's little chemistry experiment, and told him to come see Doctor Marten tomorrow.

“Cool. This almost makes up for putting me through that show back there again,” he said. “But you know you're getting bananas for Christmas, right?”

~~~~~~~

We picked up Chinese food and headed back to the dungeon. Willie and Frank were moving around the wordpad. But it didn't look like they were writing. They seemed to be circling each other. Uh Oh....

Jennifer beat me to the keyboard.

WHAT ARE YOU TWO UP TO?

They ignored us, and continued to circle. Every few moments one of them or the other would dash in, tap the pad, and hop back out again. Then I realized what the screen was showing us.

LINE

YES TWO

NO LINE

“It's ok,” I sighed. “They're playing hang man.”

“They're what?”

“Oh, yeah. Frank taught Willie to play a couple weeks ago. It wasn't too exciting though. If the words were longer than five letters Willie lost everytime.”

“It wasn't too exciting?"

"Yeah," I smiled. "Weird how quickly you can get used to something amazing, huh?"

"Jake, look at the top of the screen,” Jennifer said.

There had to be at least a hundred spaces there, with bigger spaces here and there in the middle.

“They aren't doing just words anymore. They are doing sentences, phrases maybe.”

“And just like that, the amazement is back.”

“Yeah, and I think Willie is winning.”

Jennifer didn't answer me. She was scrolling back and forth through the screens.

“You're right. Willie is winning. He's been winning all day.”

“That's weird,” I said.

“Yeah, maybe,” she nodded. “Maybe the drugs have begun impacting them differently.”

“You think?”

“Yeah.” She moved in close and touched my arm. “Jake, we're going to have to show what we've got to the guys upstairs. If Frank is getting dumbed down by the drugs, they need to know it. They may be able to reverse the effects.”

I looked at the cage. “Yeah... you're right. But they're going to be pissed.”

“Look at it this way,” she said. “Things are in such a state upstairs, there's no way they'll fire you.”

“I wasn't talking about the research team. I was talking about Willie and Frank.”

~~~~~~~~~

We didn't get to talk to Doctor Kyle until after lunch. Which worked out, because by then they had already hired Shaun and gotten him started pushing caffeine to the gamers. They had also hired and fired one other possible assistant. During the building tour, when they were showing Shaun and this other guy, Michael, around the labs, Michael had decided that the small, pasty things on the glass slides were some kind of snack food. While he was being transported to the emergency room, Doctor Marten was shredding his application. By lunchtime it was unstated, but understood by all, the kid had never even been interviewed.

Doctor Kyle and Doctor Wizell were together in Doctor Kyle's office just after lunch.

“Hi, Jennifer, Jake. What's up?”

Jennifer took the lead. “We need to add to your load today.”

“Ok....”

Doctor Wizell got up. “I have other work I could be doing.”

I held up my hand. “Actually, you need to hear this, too.”

He sat back down.

“Ok,” Doctor Kyle said. “Now you've got my attention.”

I didn't know how to start. I was trying to think of a way to edge into it.

“Willie and Frank can type,” Jennifer said.

“So we have seen,” Doctor Wizell said. “Their progress has been very interesting.”

“That's putting it mildly.” I said.

“It's actually more than that,” Jennifer said. “I don't mean just that they can type, identify pictures on a screen, and such. They can read and respond to questions presented to them, and pose questions of their own. Frank is working on a book of his own thoughts.”

They both laughed.

“That's very funny, Jennifer,” Doctor Kyle said. “Thank you. We needed some levity after the days scrambling and stress.”

“I'm afraid, sir, that the stress isn't passed just yet. We aren't kidding.”

“You must be,” Wizell said. “If there were anything more than the occasional glimpses of clarity from the subjects we'd have seen it in the print outs, and on the screen.”

I raised my hand. “Not if you weren't seeing what they were typing. That's my fault.”

“It's our fault,” Jennifer cut in.

“I put a redirect device in place that allows them to type without your overseeing them,” I added.

“It was at their request,” Jennifer said.

That got everybody's attention.

“The splitter was their idea?” I asked.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Frank was afraid that if he knew that people could see what he was typing, that it would inhibit him. Keep him from saying what he wanted to say.”

“Really?” Wizell and I said at the same time, but for completely different reasons. Weird.

Jennifer handed Doctor Kyle the file she had brought in. It was print outs from the wordpad sessions. The typing that the lab hadn't seen.

“We kept a digital copy of all of Willie and Frank's activity. Some of it is meaningless, but then a lot of what they've produced is just words created while they wandered around, went to eat, or relieved themselves. But the most impressive work is marked and separated in the file.”

She sat down in front of Doctor Kyle. “It is important that you read through the file, to understand the real state of the experiment. I want to point out that nothing we've done has impaired or censored the experiment in any way. It merely delayed your awareness of the amazing progress of the test subjects... of Willie and Frank, that is.”

“I understand that I'm fired,” I said.

“Me too,” Jennifer added. “And I certainly understand any outrage you will feel at this, But I hope that you can let that wait until after you've read through the file and observed the mice. The current status of Willie and Frank is too important.”

Doctor Wizell was about to say something to me, but his head whipped around to look at Jennifer.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Frank, in the last day or so, has begun to... fade, intellectually.” she answered.

I jumped in. “A week or so after the experiment started Frank was doing most of the talking.. most all the typing, that is. Willie was like the slow kid in the neighborhood, you know? But in the last couple days it's as if they are reversing roles. Willie is at least as intelligent as Frank, and Frank seems to be sliding backward.”

Doctor Kyle hadn't said anything. He was leafing through the file, scanning words and dates and times. Suddenly, he stopped.

“Ok, yeah, you're probably both fired. But not right now. We can't afford the loss in manpower. Especially if all this is what you say it is. So, maybe later.” He split the pile of paper in the file and handed the top half to Doctor Wizell. “Go away. Meet us downstairs with the subjects in two hours. And close the door behind you.”

That was it. We were dismissed, I guess. I think Jennifer wanted to say something else, but I took her elbow and led her out the door. I made sure it closed, as quietly as possible, behind us.

“Now what?” I said.

She shook her head. “I guess we wait. I wanted to tell them more about Frank's book.”

“They'll see that in the print outs.”

“Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of.”

We started down the stairs to my office. “Afraid? Why?”

“Didn't you read any of what Frank was writing?”

“Not really, no. Some of it at the start, but that's about it. Why? Was he not making it to the level of Shakespeare?”

“Frank's work may have started out Midsummer's Night Dream, but the last half of it isn't so Shakespeare as it is Mary Shelley, with a little Upton Sinclair on the side... the dark side. And it isn't coming nearly as quickly as it was earlier. He hasn't written much at all, lately.”

“Oh. Wait.....oh.”

“Exactly,” she said.

Cute, happy, productive mice are much less likely to get their heads dissected.

Up Next: Mice are Always Hungry