The Misbehaving Computer
Nattie leaned back in her chair, drawing a hand through her hair in frustration. At least the days were gone when a computer could act up without consequence. Sitting up, she clicked on "HelpLink." Her computer--whom she affectionately called Carly or frustratingly called Carlotta Trump III--sensed her intentions and immediately froze in a show of temper, citing a "general fault error."
"You’re just making it more difficult for yourself, you know." Nattie pulled out her palm link and connected with HelpLink headquarters. She hated getting her computer in trouble, but sometimes Carly just asked for it. "Parent directory, please."
After linking through, Nattie was distressed to learn that the Carlotta Trump II system had been taken off-line and Arnold Trump II was booked with holo-house calls until next week.
Turning to her computer, she cried, "Carly! You have to choose to act up when your parents are unavailable, don’t you? You did this on purpose! Why do you do this to me? Am I not nice to you? I buy you new hard drives, more memory, anything you ask for . . . what is it?"
Funny. They hadn’t changed that damn blue error screen in over sixty years. Blue was supposed to be calming, but when she saw blue now, she was continually reminded of misbehaving computers. Fuming at her computer, she continued, "I’ve got a very important mailing to go out tomorrow for my business. If I don’t send it out, I don’t get paid. If I don’t get paid, we won’t be able to afford all those little net perks you enjoy . . ."
Carly blinked the blue error screen again, hard-headed and stubborn. Despite their rational design, computers could be the most irrational beings she had ever met.
"Fine," Nattie stated. "Single sub-directory, please," she requested into her palm link. A Tom Packard IV was available for immediate discipline. After financial arrangements were made, Tom Packard IV downloaded himself into her link, and then through her palm’s holo-projector into her office. Stepping towards Carly, he rapidly spoke a few strict commands in techno-speak.
"No wonder she’s throwing a temper tantrum!" He turned to her reprovingly. "You’ve got this antique hooked up to her." He gestured towards the thirty year old keyboard on her desk.
"I can’t write without it," she pouted.
"Hmm . . . well, you’re paying the bills," he drawled, "so I’ll see what I can do, but . . . you don’t have voice interface activated, do you?"
She looked away guiltily. "Carly wouldn’t stop with her incessant whining about my keyboard use. She wanted me to write using the vocal interface, and my brain just doesn’t work that way! I need to feel the keys beneath my fingers!"
He shook his head and sighed. "You writers, all the same." He turned toward Carly. "Okay then, let’s see if we can work this out." Reaching forward, he opened Carly up and pushed the button to activate Carly’s holo-body.
Nattie smiled at Carly, despite her frustration. Carly’s holo-image was beautiful, long dark hair, and the most innocent brown eyes she had ever seen. Right now, however, Carly was pouting like a six-year old girl.
"Nattie wouldn’t let me talk! It’s not my fault! I couldn’t tell her to stop typing that silly string of commands . . . I can only block her mistakes twice before her commands automatically override my objections. She froze me up . . . I was NOT throwing a temper tantrum." Carly glared at Nattie.
"But if you hadn’t been constantly whining about my keyboard use, I wouldn’t have had to turn off the vocal interface to get a moment’s peace!"
"Enough!" Tom ordered. "Carly, you should know better to whine to your owner, and Nattie, you should know never to turn off the vocal interface."
"But . . . !" Nattie and Carly cried together.
"Eh-eh!" He stopped their objections with a flip of his wrist. "I will be disciplining both of you today."
"But this isn’t what I paid for!" Nattie cried.
"But it’s her fault!" cried Carly.
Tom sat on the chair. "Nattie, do you or do you not want to get that mailing done tonight?"
She chewed her lip angrily. "Yes, but . . ."
"Then over my lap."
Nattie pouted, she stomped her foot, she hissed like a cat, and finally she looked at him with pleading puppy-dog eyes. "Please . . ."
"Now!"
She did it. Nattie had no idea why, but she sure hoped Carly appreciated the sacrifices she made for her. "Hey!" Her pants and panties came down in a swift motion, and she forgot Tom was a computer. "Ow!" Tom’s hand must have been fortified with the new Holo-Realism Strengthener. Each spank sizzled with an extra spark of electricity through her skin. After twenty smacks, Nattie was in tears and apologizing to Carly for her rude behavior. When Tom finally let her up, he spanked her way to the corner, then turned to Carly.
"Over my lap, young lady."
"Tom, please!"
"Now."
"But . . ."
"Now!"
Nattie wished she could see Carly get her due, but she didn’t dare anger Tom further by disobeying his wishes. After Carly started crying, Nattie felt guilty for telling on her and getting her in trouble. But what could she do? She needed the mailing done.
By the time Tom let Carly up, Nattie rushed over to hug her, reassuring her computer of her affection and friendship. After a few moments of reconciliation, Tom sent her off to bed.
"Carly WILL get your mailing done tonight - it’ll be ready as soon as you wake up, I’ll see to that."
Nattie smiled thankfully, giving Carly one last hug. After running to her bedroom before Tom could decide to send more spanks her way, Nattie tucked herself under the covers.
In the morning, her mailing was printed and ready to go on top of the printer. On the top was a short note from Carly:
Dear Nattie,
Thanks for calling Tom last night. He and I have decided to create our own parent directory. We’ve uploaded to our new home together, but we’ve left you our firstborn, Carlotta Packard IV. She’s specifically programmed to love the keyboard, so you should have no further trouble. However, if she does act up, Tom will be happy to spank away any bugs. I’ll drop by now and then, too, for a visit!
Best wishes,
Carly
