Tuesday, 29 December 2009
Monday, 28 December 2009
Christmas Day Part 3
Virus accepted a cup of tea, reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out something that looked like a cross between a digital thermometer and a drinking straw. He sucked the end for a moment, stirred his tea until the device went "beep!", glanced at the display, nodded, and then began to drink his tea through a hole in the end of his device. I tried not to stare.
"Call me ViRus," he said at last. "That's how it works. Vincent Russell, yah? Like, you're Mary Dunwich, so that makes you, like, MaD."
"I think I must be!" I muttered. "But please call me Mary, er, ViRus. Humour your great-grandma."
He rolled his eyes again. I noticed the way the glowing green irises rotated clockwise a quarter turn.
"Are you going to look at your present now?" asked James, who had been fidgeting with impatience. "It took ages! We had to recalibrate the machine for a Bendy. We had to do all sorts of sums. Good job ViRus has a quantum computer or it would have taken years!"
I looked at the bag. What could it contain? I could imagine a lot of things. What could it contain that could possibly be worse than what I could imagine?
Whatever we Dunwiches may be, we aren't cowards. I put down my cup of tea and advanced towards the bag.
I was rather proud that I managed not to scream. Inside the bag was what had to be either a dead three year-old or an extremely convincing dummy. It (he) was naked, with eyes closed and a peaceful expression on its (his?) round little face.
"Wh.....at is it?" I managed at last.
James looked affronted. "It's a Bendy!" he said. "A completely organic bioclone. No synthetic parts at all. All carbon-based, silicon-free. That's why they call them Bendys."
I looked again at the Bendy. It did, indeed, bear more than a passing resemblance to James. It could almost be a replica of him at three years old.
"You cloned yourself and made a three year-old?" I asked. "Why in the name of C'thul'hu would you do that?"
"Nappies," answered James. "This way we get one already potty-trained. And it's easy enough to keep them in the tank until they're any age you want. It just meant I had to go back for him a couple of years later."
"Can I start him up?" asked Minnie, jigging up and down with excitement. "Please, please, please?"
I nodded. I didn't think I could take much more excitement.
Minnie rummaged in the bag, pulled out what looked like a tin key, inserted it in the dummy's belly button, and rotated clockwise a quarter turn. Then she pulled the key out and beamed with self-satisfaction.
The Bendy's eyes opened. So did his mouth. He started to scream.
"Yah, they do that!" said ViRus, indifferently. "It's always a bit of a shock, taking the first breath."
What I don't know about bioclones could fill the British Library. Crying children I understand. I scooped the little boy up in my arms and rocked him, holding him close to me and making shooshing noises.
"He's our baby brother!" announced Minnie with pride. "I always wanted a little brother. You said we couldn't have one. So James made one for us. He's your Christmas present from us!"
"I was going to clone Dodgson," confessed James. "I thought a second dodo would make a brilliant Christmas present. I could have made a girl and you could have bred them. But it's illegal to clone animals where ViRus comes from. We had to clone me instead."
ViRus continued: "Bendies were all the rage a couple of years ago," he said. "Everyone wanted one. Sili-clones are sooo Eighties. And no-one gives birth any more. That went out in the mid twenty-first century. Practically mediaeval."
"I don't think we can keep him," I said. The screams had subsided into sobs, the sobs into sniffs. After another a minute he had stopped crying altogether. He wiped his nose on my shoulder.
"It's a lovely thought, children, and Virus, but what would we do with another child? We can't afford him. We don't have room for him. I don't think it's even legal to clone your own children yet. We could get into trouble."
ViRus nodded cheerfully. "Fair enough!" he said. "I can take him back with me. Bendies are fully recyclable."
I looked down and saw a pair of blue eyes gazing up at me.
"Recyclable?" I asked.
"Yah! They re-use the bits," answered ViRus, picking up a mince pie and examining it carefully.
"No-one recycles a Dunwich!" I said, hugging the bioclone a little tighter. The bioclone grimaced, burped and started to pick his nose.
ViRus shrugged. "Well, he comes with a three year guarantee," he said, prizing the top off his pie to examine the filling. If you change your mind, you can always return him. He's fully ....."
"Recyclable! I get it!" I snapped back. The bioclone grinned at me and waggled his eyebrows. I remembered James doing exactly the same eyebrow-waggle at his age. I felt my eyes starting to fill with a nostalgic tear.
When Charlie came in with a crash and a muffled "Damn those wellies!" I was still holding the bioclone. Charlie looked at me, then at the little boy, then at ViRus. Then he looked at me again.
"Have you biochecked your great-grandad, ViRus?" I asked brightly. "Charlie, this is your great-grandson!" Charlie grinned, grasped the outstretched hand and shook it. "And this is your youngest son, Bendy. Er.... Ben D. Ben. Er. He's a clone of James. You can tell them apart though. Ben's got blue eyes!" I was starting to gabble. I stopped and took a deep, calming breath.
"Well, I'll be jiggery-pokered!" said Charlie.
"Call me ViRus," he said at last. "That's how it works. Vincent Russell, yah? Like, you're Mary Dunwich, so that makes you, like, MaD."
"I think I must be!" I muttered. "But please call me Mary, er, ViRus. Humour your great-grandma."
He rolled his eyes again. I noticed the way the glowing green irises rotated clockwise a quarter turn.
"Are you going to look at your present now?" asked James, who had been fidgeting with impatience. "It took ages! We had to recalibrate the machine for a Bendy. We had to do all sorts of sums. Good job ViRus has a quantum computer or it would have taken years!"
I looked at the bag. What could it contain? I could imagine a lot of things. What could it contain that could possibly be worse than what I could imagine?
Whatever we Dunwiches may be, we aren't cowards. I put down my cup of tea and advanced towards the bag.
I was rather proud that I managed not to scream. Inside the bag was what had to be either a dead three year-old or an extremely convincing dummy. It (he) was naked, with eyes closed and a peaceful expression on its (his?) round little face.
"Wh.....at is it?" I managed at last.
James looked affronted. "It's a Bendy!" he said. "A completely organic bioclone. No synthetic parts at all. All carbon-based, silicon-free. That's why they call them Bendys."
I looked again at the Bendy. It did, indeed, bear more than a passing resemblance to James. It could almost be a replica of him at three years old.
"You cloned yourself and made a three year-old?" I asked. "Why in the name of C'thul'hu would you do that?"
"Nappies," answered James. "This way we get one already potty-trained. And it's easy enough to keep them in the tank until they're any age you want. It just meant I had to go back for him a couple of years later."
"Can I start him up?" asked Minnie, jigging up and down with excitement. "Please, please, please?"
I nodded. I didn't think I could take much more excitement.
Minnie rummaged in the bag, pulled out what looked like a tin key, inserted it in the dummy's belly button, and rotated clockwise a quarter turn. Then she pulled the key out and beamed with self-satisfaction.
The Bendy's eyes opened. So did his mouth. He started to scream.
"Yah, they do that!" said ViRus, indifferently. "It's always a bit of a shock, taking the first breath."
What I don't know about bioclones could fill the British Library. Crying children I understand. I scooped the little boy up in my arms and rocked him, holding him close to me and making shooshing noises.
"He's our baby brother!" announced Minnie with pride. "I always wanted a little brother. You said we couldn't have one. So James made one for us. He's your Christmas present from us!"
"I was going to clone Dodgson," confessed James. "I thought a second dodo would make a brilliant Christmas present. I could have made a girl and you could have bred them. But it's illegal to clone animals where ViRus comes from. We had to clone me instead."
ViRus continued: "Bendies were all the rage a couple of years ago," he said. "Everyone wanted one. Sili-clones are sooo Eighties. And no-one gives birth any more. That went out in the mid twenty-first century. Practically mediaeval."
"I don't think we can keep him," I said. The screams had subsided into sobs, the sobs into sniffs. After another a minute he had stopped crying altogether. He wiped his nose on my shoulder.
"It's a lovely thought, children, and Virus, but what would we do with another child? We can't afford him. We don't have room for him. I don't think it's even legal to clone your own children yet. We could get into trouble."
ViRus nodded cheerfully. "Fair enough!" he said. "I can take him back with me. Bendies are fully recyclable."
I looked down and saw a pair of blue eyes gazing up at me.
"Recyclable?" I asked.
"Yah! They re-use the bits," answered ViRus, picking up a mince pie and examining it carefully.
"No-one recycles a Dunwich!" I said, hugging the bioclone a little tighter. The bioclone grimaced, burped and started to pick his nose.
ViRus shrugged. "Well, he comes with a three year guarantee," he said, prizing the top off his pie to examine the filling. If you change your mind, you can always return him. He's fully ....."
"Recyclable! I get it!" I snapped back. The bioclone grinned at me and waggled his eyebrows. I remembered James doing exactly the same eyebrow-waggle at his age. I felt my eyes starting to fill with a nostalgic tear.
When Charlie came in with a crash and a muffled "Damn those wellies!" I was still holding the bioclone. Charlie looked at me, then at the little boy, then at ViRus. Then he looked at me again.
"Have you biochecked your great-grandad, ViRus?" I asked brightly. "Charlie, this is your great-grandson!" Charlie grinned, grasped the outstretched hand and shook it. "And this is your youngest son, Bendy. Er.... Ben D. Ben. Er. He's a clone of James. You can tell them apart though. Ben's got blue eyes!" I was starting to gabble. I stopped and took a deep, calming breath.
"Well, I'll be jiggery-pokered!" said Charlie.
Christmas Day Part 2
I was woken by a crash and a colourful expression from the kitchen. I assumed at first it was Charlie, tripping over the pile of children's wellies by the back door. Imagine my surprise, therefore, to see a tall, slim man wearing leather drainpipe trousers, a purple shirt and mirrored sunglasses staggering through the door carrying what looked like a cross between a guitar case and a body bag.
I glanced at Minnie. She was busy headbanging with her eyes fixed on her drum kit and so hadn't noticed a thing. No clues there as to how to respond to this intruder.
I looked at the man more closely. Purple, black and white stripey hair. Diamond nose stud. Age....difficult to tell. I felt I should know who he was. There was a tantalising sense of familiarity about him.
"Hey, Great-Grandma!" he said. "Biocheck!"
He extended his left hand. I looked at it dubiously. The fingertips were a matt, metallic blue.
"How do you do?" replied my mouth on autopilot. My right hand extended by its own volition towards my unexpected visitor.
The man rolled his eyes. "Biocheck, Great-aunt Minnie!" he yelled. Minnie nodded, extended her left hand, and they performed a well-practised finger dance together. I inferred that James has already taken her to visit her family in the twenty-second century.
"You must be Virus," I said, suddenly feeling old.
James appeared from behind his grandson. "Virus helped me bring your present in," he said, nodding towards the guitar case / body bag.
"How lovely!" I said. "Would you like a cup of tea, Virus? I'll just put the kettle on." I disappeared into the kitchen, locked the door and sat down on the pile of wellies to regain my composure.
When I had recovered enough to set a tray with teapot, cups, milk and a large plate of mince pies, I found Virus, sitting in my armchair, chatting aimiably with Minnie. I noticed that he had taken his shoes and socks off, and placed them neatly by his chair. I also noticed that he had taken his sunglasses off. His eyes glowed green in the gloom of the darkening sitting room.
"Tea, Virus?" I asked, in a surprisingly calm voice. "Er. Vincent. Vincent Russell Dunwich. Mr Dunwich?" How was I supposed to address him, I wondered. He's my great-grandson, is over seventy years old, yet he looks my age, dresses like a teenager and talks like nothing I have ever heard even in my most cheese-inspired dreams.
[To be continued]
I glanced at Minnie. She was busy headbanging with her eyes fixed on her drum kit and so hadn't noticed a thing. No clues there as to how to respond to this intruder.
I looked at the man more closely. Purple, black and white stripey hair. Diamond nose stud. Age....difficult to tell. I felt I should know who he was. There was a tantalising sense of familiarity about him.
"Hey, Great-Grandma!" he said. "Biocheck!"
He extended his left hand. I looked at it dubiously. The fingertips were a matt, metallic blue.
"How do you do?" replied my mouth on autopilot. My right hand extended by its own volition towards my unexpected visitor.
The man rolled his eyes. "Biocheck, Great-aunt Minnie!" he yelled. Minnie nodded, extended her left hand, and they performed a well-practised finger dance together. I inferred that James has already taken her to visit her family in the twenty-second century.
"You must be Virus," I said, suddenly feeling old.
James appeared from behind his grandson. "Virus helped me bring your present in," he said, nodding towards the guitar case / body bag.
"How lovely!" I said. "Would you like a cup of tea, Virus? I'll just put the kettle on." I disappeared into the kitchen, locked the door and sat down on the pile of wellies to regain my composure.
When I had recovered enough to set a tray with teapot, cups, milk and a large plate of mince pies, I found Virus, sitting in my armchair, chatting aimiably with Minnie. I noticed that he had taken his shoes and socks off, and placed them neatly by his chair. I also noticed that he had taken his sunglasses off. His eyes glowed green in the gloom of the darkening sitting room.
"Tea, Virus?" I asked, in a surprisingly calm voice. "Er. Vincent. Vincent Russell Dunwich. Mr Dunwich?" How was I supposed to address him, I wondered. He's my great-grandson, is over seventy years old, yet he looks my age, dresses like a teenager and talks like nothing I have ever heard even in my most cheese-inspired dreams.
[To be continued]
Saturday, 26 December 2009
Christmas Day Part 1
Well, THAT was a Christmas that we won't forget in a hurry!
The children had set up a trip-wire to catch Father Christmas. Charlie used some very expressive language when he fell over it, which fortunately failed to wake the children.
On Christmas morning we were woken at 7:00 am to the strains of Slade’s "Merry Christmas" played at top volume through a loudspeaker system that James had rigged up. As it happens I am an early riser by nature. Charlie isn’t, so the children learned a few more colourful expressions. I got up and made the breakfast.
After breakfast we all sat down and opened our presents around the tree. James had a new webcam, which he was very pleased with and he spent much of the morning installing it on his computer. It appears to be compatible with both Skype and Ouija for Windows.
Minnie had an electronic drum kit. I noted with satisfaction that it has both a volume control and an earphone socket. She can be loud without disturbing the neighbours.
Charlie got a variable speed jiggery-poker. This is apparently a very useful bit of kit when one is building a dalek. You need it for getting the eyestalks aligned properly or something. He tried to explain but I made an excuse and went to prod the Brussels Sprouts.
I got a new hard-drive (I had filled up the old one with all audio books from librivox.org) and a Geek’s Kitchen Apron. It has twenty-seven pockets for different utensils, and a built-in jam thermometer, timer and calorie counter. James claims that Steven Hawking has one. I doubt that, but I’m prepared to believe that Professor Hawking’s mother has one.
Harry the Geek came round, played with all the children’s presents, ate Christmas lunch with us and then disappeared with Charlie to discuss eyestalks and try out the jiggery-poker. James, who had been watching the snow with gloom all week, observed with delight that it had melted, and disappeared in the direction of his workshop. Minnie settled down to bang and crash silently along with "Queen’s Greatest Hits".
I settled down on the sofa to listen to some LingQ Japanese lessons.
(Continued tomorrow)
Friday, 25 December 2009
Thursday, 17 December 2009
The Dunwich Family Christmas Letter
The Dunwich Digest: or What We Did in 2009
by Charlie Dunwich
2009 was a great year for the Dunwich family. No-one was arrested, sectioned or served with an ASBO which was quite an achievement for us!
New Year was a sad event, marked as it was by Grandpa's passing. He is still in regular contact with us, however, and seems to be enjoying his "retirement" from the world. We hear that he has enrolled on a degree course with the Open University! Nice to hear they have changed their policies on admitting post-living students.
Mary is keeping herself busy with all her LingQ activities. As well as studying German and Russian, she tells me she has started on Japanese, Celtic and Whale. One of these is probably a joke but I'm not sure which.
She also keeps busy chatting with all her students over the internet. She seems to get a lot of fun out of helping people learn English, and either she is a good tutor or people enjoy her tall stories, because they keep coming back for more.
James turned 12 this year and is now enjoying "Big School". Apart from a detention which he got for walking in circles round a dustbin (this contravenes Health and Safety regulations, we were told), he has been working hard and keeping out of trouble. He has also been keeping busy in his spare time this year, although since he built himself a working space-time machine "time" has become a very flexible concept for us. I don't suppose he tells us about a quarter of the places he visits and the people he meets! We do know that he met Alexander Graham Bell in Boston in 1876, as he recorded the first words uttered into a telephone, and gave them to Mary for a ringtone. He's as thoughtful as ever.
James has also made several trips into the twenty-second century this autumn, and has met his grandson. "Virus" (short for Vincent Rufus 812372-MD-@#Y Dunwich) is a very interesting character and he and James are like twin souls. James has learned a lot about Britain in the twenty-second century, which is sure to come in useful in his school work this year! Virus is helping him with his science project, but James refuses to give us any details because it's a "surprise". If James' former science projects are anything to go by, it won't be home-made bath salts!
Minnie turned eight this year. She has been doing very well at school and received only one suspension and a formal written warning, due to her home-made gunpowder. Fortunately she didn't get the mixture right and it didn't explode so much as hiss and fizzle and make a very nasty smell in the music room. As Minnie is one of the school's keenest guitar students, she was most affected by the fumes and ended up being sick in the school piano. That should teach her to weigh ingredients out more carefully!
I have been very productive this year too. I have continued my work on Badger Protection in the County (I've been shortlisted for the national "Badger Minder" Award, which is quite a feather in my cap!) In my spare time I have been making a Dalek. My friend and colleague Harry the Geek, who has made good progress with his mental health issues since was sectioned early in the year, has been very helpful. Harry is an electronics genius, and I am getting the hang of moulding plaster, fibre glass and (where necessary) cheese, so the work is coming along very well. We hope to have it finished in time for the Dusty Mouldings Summer Festival.
Finally, no Christmas letter would be complete without a word about our pets. Dodgson is very well. He is very fit, thanks to the regular walks the children take him on! I was worried that the sight of a dodo on a lead might cause comment in the neighbourhood, but Mary has managed to convince the neighbours that he in a Madagascan Racing Turkey. Besides, the children mostly exercise him in the grounds of the local psychiatric hospital, where the residents are used to such sights.
For his birthday James was given a hamster. Bytes is a Syrian cream female and very tame. I haven't seen her for a while, I believe she is living free range under James' bed. He assures me he cleans her out regularly every week, straight after cleaning out the dodo pen.
Hoping you and your family are all well, sane and happy,
Wishing you all the very best for 2010,
Charlie, Mary, James, Minnie, Dodgson and Bytes (wherever she is).
Tuesday, 15 December 2009
A new addition to the family
It was one o'clock sharp when my son and his girlfriend came arrived at the back door. As I was busy scolding Charlie for showing up covered in plaster dust, I didn't pay much attention to James and Kate until I had sat down and started to eat. James and Kate tucked into their pizzas like kids who haven't eaten a square meal in hours.
"Didn't you have your picnic?" I asked.
"That was HOURS ago," answered James through a mouthful of Seven Cheeses Hot 'n Greasy.
I looked more closely at the pair. They looked tired, flushed and smug. Ah, first love, I thought. Then I looked more closely. They weren't so much flushed as....
"Sunburn?" I wondered aloud. "And your hair....it's not wet! That's odd...."
"It was summer where we went," answered James, helping himself to potato salad.
"Where did you go?" I asked, wondering if I would like the answer.
"2130," answered James after a hurried consultation with Kate.
"21:30?" I asked, glancing at the kitchen clock.
"No, the YEAR 2130," replied James with patronising calm. "It turns out the Dunwiches are still living in Dusty Mouldings. We met my grandson."
I gaped. Charlie helped himself to the tomato salad.
"He's really nice!" contributed Kate, handing me her mobile phone. I stared, bewildered, at the picture of a man. He could have been in his early forties and led an exciting youth, or in his fifties and taking good care of himself. It was hard to tell, especially with the wrap-around sunglasses, the purple, black and white striped spiky hair and the diamond nose-stud.
"Virus!" said Kate.
"Really?" I asked, still staring. James rolled his eyes. Kate smirked.
"That's his NAME," replied James in a still more patronising tone. I sighed and handed the mobile to Charlie.
It takes a lot to surprise my husband. He didn't even pause in his chewing as he studied his great-grandson's image.
"How old is he?" asked Charlie, while my brain tried to reboot.
James shrugged.
"74," answered Kate.
"He looks good on it!" said Charlie.
"He's had most of his organs replaced," said Kate with the authority of one who is top of her year in science. "Eyes, heart, liver, spleen and fingertips. He said he should live to about 300 if he avoids celery and hamsters."
"Is that your family tree project sorted out?" asked Charlie. James nodded. "And the science project too!" ha replied smugly. "Virus is going to help us with it. He's got some really cool tools. We spent all evening in his workshop."
Kate yawned. I glanced at her watch. It said "10:00".
"Why don't you two have an afternoon nap?" I suggested, my brain finally coming back online. "Kate can crash out on Minnie's bed. You'll never make it through to bedtime otherwise. Oh, and there's some aftersun cream in the bathroom cupboard. I should put some on on that sunburn if I were you."
James and Kate nodded, both yawning now, stood up rather unsteadily and made their way upstairs.
I looked at Charlie. Charlie looked at me, shrugged, and went to fetch the ice cream.
"Didn't you have your picnic?" I asked.
"That was HOURS ago," answered James through a mouthful of Seven Cheeses Hot 'n Greasy.
I looked more closely at the pair. They looked tired, flushed and smug. Ah, first love, I thought. Then I looked more closely. They weren't so much flushed as....
"Sunburn?" I wondered aloud. "And your hair....it's not wet! That's odd...."
"It was summer where we went," answered James, helping himself to potato salad.
"Where did you go?" I asked, wondering if I would like the answer.
"2130," answered James after a hurried consultation with Kate.
"21:30?" I asked, glancing at the kitchen clock.
"No, the YEAR 2130," replied James with patronising calm. "It turns out the Dunwiches are still living in Dusty Mouldings. We met my grandson."
I gaped. Charlie helped himself to the tomato salad.
"He's really nice!" contributed Kate, handing me her mobile phone. I stared, bewildered, at the picture of a man. He could have been in his early forties and led an exciting youth, or in his fifties and taking good care of himself. It was hard to tell, especially with the wrap-around sunglasses, the purple, black and white striped spiky hair and the diamond nose-stud.
"Virus!" said Kate.
"Really?" I asked, still staring. James rolled his eyes. Kate smirked.
"That's his NAME," replied James in a still more patronising tone. I sighed and handed the mobile to Charlie.
It takes a lot to surprise my husband. He didn't even pause in his chewing as he studied his great-grandson's image.
"How old is he?" asked Charlie, while my brain tried to reboot.
James shrugged.
"74," answered Kate.
"He looks good on it!" said Charlie.
"He's had most of his organs replaced," said Kate with the authority of one who is top of her year in science. "Eyes, heart, liver, spleen and fingertips. He said he should live to about 300 if he avoids celery and hamsters."
"Is that your family tree project sorted out?" asked Charlie. James nodded. "And the science project too!" ha replied smugly. "Virus is going to help us with it. He's got some really cool tools. We spent all evening in his workshop."
Kate yawned. I glanced at her watch. It said "10:00".
"Why don't you two have an afternoon nap?" I suggested, my brain finally coming back online. "Kate can crash out on Minnie's bed. You'll never make it through to bedtime otherwise. Oh, and there's some aftersun cream in the bathroom cupboard. I should put some on on that sunburn if I were you."
James and Kate nodded, both yawning now, stood up rather unsteadily and made their way upstairs.
I looked at Charlie. Charlie looked at me, shrugged, and went to fetch the ice cream.
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