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IML_42 t1_jdghmp3 wrote

My dad used to say that my uncle Randy had a dial-up brain in a fiber optic world; I never thought that was fair.

Uncle Randy was dumber than that.

Dial-up connections were slow but they still provided you access to the limitless knowledge of the internet—the information superhighway was at your finger tips, you were just perpetually stuck in the right lane.

Uncle Randy, meanwhile, would be best characterized as a hitchhiker walking backwards down the middle lane of said superhighway, grinning with his thumbs up as the rest of us swerved around him (and I should be clear, this isn’t exactly a metaphor, uncle Randy actually was known to hitchhike by walking backwards down the middle of the highway—at least until some kindly truck driver disabused him of that notion).

While he was as thick as a cup of molasses, he was just as sweet. I remember one Thanksgiving I’d come home from college and Uncle Randy was the first to tell me he was so glad to have me home and that he was proud to be talking to the first man in our family to go to college. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I was not the first and that not only had my dad gone to college, but so had grandpa Bart and my two older cousins who stood not five feet away from us shaking their heads.

Still, it was nice to be appreciated.

That Thanksgiving Uncle Randy, sweet man that he was, made sure to make room for me at the grown-up table. It was a big step for me. I got to listen on as the adults debated politics, religion and the like—you know, kitchen table issues. I sat there as my Grandpa and Dad debated the most recent Presidential scandal. I don’t remember what they said, because I wasn’t listening to them.

I was watching Uncle Randy.

He looked like a man sitting at the center line of a tennis match, his head bobbing between the head and foot of the table as Dad and Grandpa volleyed their respective generational ideals. Meanwhile I swear I could practically hear the squawk of the dial tone whirring inside Uncle Randy’s head. He was clearly thinking long and hard about something. Knowing Randy if he ever formulated his thought, whatever was going to come out was going to be a doozy.

Finally, success. He opened his mouth in that slack-jaw way he did just before he was going to drop some hard-earned insight. I swear I heard the words, “you’ve got mail,” echo from his mouth before he spoke.

“Now, Pops, Marv,” Uncle Randy began, “hold on a minute. I got a question.”

The cousins and I shared a look. My mom chuckled to herself as she upturned her wine glass. The whole table was thinking the same thing. This is gonna be good.

“Well, get on with it then,” said Grandpa impatiently.

“Well, I was just thinkin’,” Uncle Randy said rubbing his chin, ”wouldn’t cinnamon make more sense?”

Grandpa and Dad looked at each other with puzzled expressions. My mom nearly spit her wine on the table as she busted up laughing.

“Oh Randy, you’re too much,” Mom shouted as she slapped her knee.

Uncle Randy just looked at her confused. “Nah, I mean it Mary. You know as well as me that peach and mint ain’t gonna taste good together. I figure they outta mix some cinnamon in for good measure.”

Grandpa, figuring out what Uncle Randy meant simply turned to Grandma and said, “Where did we go wrong with this boy, Charlotte?”

“Oh be nice, Bart,” Grandma replied.

“No, I mean it! He thinks impeachment is a goddamn dessert. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”

“Well, to be fair,” I said, “it would be pretty sweet!”

r/InMyLife42Archive

187

M1chaelLanz t1_jdjmpt6 wrote

March 24th 2000 - Time Stamp 1000 CST

My name is Cal and this is entry number 1290. For all my followers, I finally got my recorder fixed, so I will be able to dictate my days in the field again so you don't miss another epic update! Right now it is almost 0000 hours, despite what my recorder says, and I am peeling back the layers on a new mystery.

The Case of The Dial Tone.

I am still workshopping the name, but this one is big guys. How big, you might ask? Very. It all started this morning after I got my recorder repaired at Hero's Inc. They ruggedized it for me, so I can beat more bad guys without worrying about wrecking it. Anyway, I was standing in line at the bus stop and did my normal thing. Listened to everyone's thoughts. Today there was nothing that stood out. This guy was stressed at work, that woman was deciding if she loved her dog more than her boyfriend. You know, normal stuff.

Once I got on the bus, I was shifting through the different thoughts to find something juicy or criminal in nature, when I picked up a dial-up noise. Yes, like when you tried to connect to the internet back in the nineties. At first I thought I was hearing someone's ringtone or a video playing somewhere. I tried to ignore it, but it kept knawing at me until I asked if anyone else heard the noise. They all looked at me like I was a crazy person. Who knows, maybe I am? 

Once the first stop showed up, I decided to leave, thinking there was just something on the bus. A few people came off with me and I focused my powers on them. Each came back with a different thought, except for a man in a plain gray business suit. He was the dial-up noise.

In my entire life, I have never heard a person's thoughts as anything other than words. That is when my investigation began. I followed him for two blocks and he went to an electronics store. He walked rigid with perfect posture, but he swung his briefcase haphazardly like a child without a care in the world. It was strange. 

I waited outside to not build suspicion and listened carefully to the cashier's thoughts. He was thinking about his plans for the evening with a box of ice cream and the latest episode of Carney Hallogan until our empty headed man got to the counter. 

Finally, someone buys the ethernet cables. This guy likes doing his projects right. "Rewiring the house?"

Dial-up noise. "Never can have too much cable."

"I'll say. That will be two hundred."

Our mystery man paid the cashier and left. He only bought ethernet cables. What was he up to? It drove me nuts, since I usually had something to work with. This guy was unreadable. I knew something was off. 

He then got on another bus and went downtown to an auto shop. The weird thing was, he didn't have a car there. He simply went there to buy oil. Stranger yet, I got to see him open his briefcase. It was empty and was where he stashed the oil bottles.

I tailed him all day and night and he never stopped to eat. He went to the bathroom a few times, but that was it. I followed him to a dark warehouse near the port. He has been in there for an hour. I think I will go in and investigate more. Wish me luck guys!

Holy shit! This is day…1291? Right? Either way, it doesn't matter. This guy isn't a guy at all. He is a fucking Android! I snuck into the empty warehouse and saw him sitting in a chair all by himself. I kid you not, he was eating the cable like it was spaghetti and chased it down with motor oil.

crash

No, he's coming. I don't have much time. I am at Henderson's Freight Port, near warehouse five. Send someone. Any hero. Heck even the cops, call anyone. 

whirring sound

Hey! Let go of me! Let go…

You were following me. You will be disposed of. Activating Protocol 7746.

Aaaaggghhh–

~End of Recording - No Data Found~

Officer Turner took out the SD card from her laptop and held it out for Jaster to take. They were standing in his warehouse where a lone chair, a roll of cut ethernet cable, and an empty bottle of motor oil laid. Police were outside by the dumpsters, where Cal was split into. 

"I'm not going to put my prints on that so you can frame me. Nice try, Lilly," Jaster said.

"Why did you bring me in here?" she asked, frustrated he wouldn't let anyone else in but her.

"You're the only officer I trust to see the inside of my warehouse. I'm giving you a chance to find Cal's murderer."

"Why not let everyone in? With this evidence, we will get a warrant to search this place."

"That's the thing. Get rid of the recording. I don't want any officers searching my warehouse."

"Why? Afraid we will find something?"

Jaster nodded. "Do I need to remind you why I trust you?"

Officer Turner didn't need a reminder. Her husband was safe at home, cuddling with Scruffles. They would end up like Cal if she didn't play ball. She dropped the SD card on the ground and stomped on it with her heel. 

"Destroying evidence will make convicting this killer harder. How will I be able to explain in court how I found Cal's murderer?"

"You won't have to worry about conviction. I will handle it. And besides, we are dealing with a robot. Can't murder what isn't alive," Jaster said and began walking away. "By the way, I like your confidence that you will find this robot. You will need it."

"Can I take pictures of this?" she asked, gesturing to the cables and empty oil bottle.

"Do what you need. I just don't want any officers in here."

Jaster left and walked past the cop cars and crime scene tape. Officers were busy on the phone or examining the scene to pay him any mind. If he was being honest, it was a tragedy. Cal was a kid who was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. His biggest concern though was this robot had the appearance of a person and the sophistication to stay hidden. He needed to know who made it and more importantly, what it was made for. Every robot had a purpose and this one was no exception.

If you enjoyed this, there is more set in this universe at r/HerosInc

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