TheBanyanTree: The Zimmerquat

[Rob McMonigal]

"I call it the Zimmerquat."
"Oh you do, do you, O'Toole?"
"Yes."  O'Toole beamed proudly, like any man who feels he's justified his
government grant.  "It will change everything we know about the world, once
we're finished with the final tests.  You're about to witness history, Dr.
Hetzler."
"I see."  Hetzler didn't act like he saw much of anything, except a computer
that looked more like it dated from the mid-twentieth century instead of the
mid-twenty-first.  "What does it do?"
"A better question is what can't it do!"
"Okay, then, what can't it do?"
"Cook toast."
"You actually tried?"
"Sure--see those slots there?  The ones just about big enough for old VCR
tapes?"
Hetzler peered over.
"O'Toole, you never cease to amaze me."  This was not meant as a compliment.
"That's why I have the research job."
The two of them covered every inch of the outside of the Zimmerquat, with
O'Toole extollnig its virtues and explaining why only the finish metals and
most pricy plastics could be used in its constrution.  His eyebrows bounced
over every detail, from the fact that its processing speed was roughly near
Mach 1 to the idea that not even the best programmer of the prior generation
could have matched his feat.  Hetzler took detailed notes, adjusting wire
glasses that were not quite right for his face every so often.
"You say that every single reference tomb known to humanity is now inside
that machine's hard drive?"
"That's right, Hetzler.  It's why we needed that line item for online book
purchases and then a whole team of data entry workers."
"Right, right.  But did they really need to be eating at Steakhouses for
lunch?"
"My dear Hetzler, what better way to keep them happy?  A happy worker is a
worker who doesn't make mistakes.  Our error rate was second to none on this
project.  Anything less, and the Zimmerquat would be a complete failure."
"Naturally. Can I have a demonstration now?  Is it ready?"
"I thought you'd never ask, Hetzler!  Have a seat and be ready to stop
worrying about those petty details."
"Petty?  You charged Uncle Sam for 400 pairs of lambskin slippers!"
"It will all be worth it, just wait and see.  Now sit." O'Toole took Hetzler
to a nearby leather chair, complete with cup holder.  Hetzler reluctantly
sat down, glasses wobbling as he tried to quote more numbers.
"Shh, Hetzler.  The Zimmerquat is voice activated."
"I saw the microphone bill, I'm well aware."
"Quiet.  I'm going to turn it on."  O'Toole crossed the room, and flipped a
switch located near the base of the enormous computer.

If a modern computer whirred to life, the Zimmerquat roared like a souped-up
motorcycle.  A gigantic fan suspended from the ceiling roared to life,
adding to the din.
"How can it hear you?" asked Hetzler.
"What?"
"Nothing."

Finally, a set of green lights located near the middle of the Zimmerquat all
flashed on.  The fan slowed down to that of an old electric model set on
high, and the motorcycle engine idled instead of revving.  Hetzler looked
for some sign of a monitor, but found none.
"Where do you see what the results are?"
"On a printout, of course."
"You spend millions of dollars on this program, and you didn't even make a
monitor?"
"Why would you need one?"
"I've been saying that all along."
"Good, then you agree with me!  Excellent!"  The eyebrows flashed up and
down like an ocean tide.  "Let's start it off with an easy question.
Zimmerquat, who was the lamest president of the United States?"
The machine shuddered as it started into full calculation mode, reacting not
unlike something from a corny superhero show of the previous century.
O'Toole clenched his fists and made little pacing motions across the floor.
Hetzler sat motionless, except for a slight shaking of his head.  After what
seemed a rather long time of rattling, beeping, and engine-revving, there
was a bit of a gurgle, followed by a long sheet of green and white dot
matrix paper.  O'Toole grabbed it, and read aloud:

"Franklin Delano Roosevelt."

Hetzler blinked.  "Give me that."  He read it.  O'Toole was not joking.  "I
don't believe it."
"Why not?" O'Toole asked.  "Were you expecting a subjective answer?  This is
a computer, you know."
"Fine.  Ask it another one."
"Certainly.  Let's try mathematics. Zimmerquat, tell me the product of one
million, three hundred thousand, two hundred sixty six and five million,
seven hundred thousand, one hundred fourty seven."

More clanking and other noises, resulting in a piece of paper.

"The cost of my construction."

"That's a bit odd, isn't it Hetzler?  Perhaps I made a mistake?"
"Hang on a second."  Hetzler got out a calculator, and started to crunch a
few numbers from his sheets.  "That's exactly right, come to think of it."
"Excellent!  Why don't you ask it a question now."

Hetzler grinned.  "Zimmerquat," he said in a very clear voice, "why are you
named Zimmerquat?"

Again, the machine whirred into life.  The fan kicked in again to keep the
processors cool, making the entire room shake as the computer tried harder
and harder to compute the results.  The motorcycle engines got up to unsafe
speeds.  The green lights gave off palpable heat, and exploded.  Smoke
appeared across the entire apparatus.  An alarm sounded.

"Turn it off!" shouted Hetzler.
"I can't!" wailed O'Toole.  "I never thought I'd need to turn it off
manually!"
"We have to get out of here.  Move it, O'Toole!"
"No! I can't leave my creation.  If it goes, I go, too."  He remained
fixated by the steady destruction of his life's work.
"We don't have time for this!"  Hetzler punched O'Toole, knocking him off
balance.  He pushed him towards the door, just as the Zimmerquat exploded
with a loud boom.

They were thrown through the door, which fortunately pushed in, by the blast
wave.  Sprinkers kicked in, their jet spray whirled around the room by the
fan, looking more like an amusement park attraction than a safety device.

O'Toole recovered his senses just as the flames subsided.
"The Zimmerquat!  It's ruined!"
"So is your career, as soon as I file this report."
"But Hetzler, it was perfect.  It had everything.  I don't understand what
went wrong."
"I do, O'Toole." Hetzler dusted himself off, patting out a few smouldering
spots on his no longer white smock.
"What?  Tell me...I must know!"
"Like many failed inventions over the year, it was a great idea.  You just
gave it a terrible name that not even the largest processor in the world
could understand. But look on the bright side.  You've wasted untold
millions in taxpayer money, you will be revilved in history books, and you
probably won't even get on the talk shows."
"I'm failing to see a bright side, Hetzler."
"You proved that no matter how smart a machine can be, human imagination is
still smarter. That's something no one can ever take away from us, no matter
how hard we try."
"I guess you're right, Hetzler."
"I sure am, O'Toole.  Government officials are always right."
With that, he led O'Toole away from the ruins of the Zimmerquat.

-Rob