The Man WHo Ate His Computer

The Man Who Ate His Computer
Again he couldn't sleep and the permutations, ruminations and ramifications of what he was about to do whizzed chaotically around in his brain keeping him alert and wired. He got up, taking a moment to sit on the edge of the bed for a moment allowing himself to awaken fully although he hadn't been anywhere near sleep. 'A man your age should be taking things easy,' the Doctor said and he never argued. It was always easier, outwardly at least, to comply.
He wandered into the computer room, the legs of his too long pyjamas trailing absurdly behind making him look like an elderly Wee Willie Winkie. He watched the steady blue light. Power on. The truth was, the power was never off. He was an avid collector of knowledge and prided himself of knowing much about most things. His words. Much about most things. Although his vast knowledge was not for sharing, indeed his neighbours would have been surprised to learn that the old boy at number 32 knew so much about Egyptian hieroglyphics, the NASA space programme and which supermarket was currently offering the most competitive price on a small brown loaf. He had never once countenanced using this information to practical effect ' for him simply knowing was enough.
He moved the mouse until the black screen disappeared and the Google homepage he'd left on the night before appeared. He glared at the cursor flickering in the search box. He felt mocked, cheated and suddenly vulnerable. What if there's a power cut? What if the computer suddenly stopped working? What if¦ what if¦ He sighed deeply, and at that moment made his decision. He would do away with the intermediary and digest the world's information firsthand. He would eat his computer. Although worried he might poison himself, after all who knew what lived inside the whirring, clicking, flashing-light box? Never one to do anything hastily, he thought long and hard about it before reverting to his age-old rule; If it still feels right after a good night's sleep then it is right. So he did it. He ate his computer.
Not all at once of course. He was aware of toxins and leaking cancers which may well breed inside the average motherboard, after all they lived in microwave ovens as far back as the late 70's until Science and Know-how banished them, making safe the path to TV dinners and the demise of family mealtimes. So it was reasonable to assume that these foul bacterium had to find new homes in which to dwell, to propagate and grow their poisons and it was also reasonable to presume that the computer with it's softly buzzing components would be an ideal home for these foul mendicants to live and because, he was a reasonable man, he knew it was so.
If he'd had a wife he'd perhaps have shared this insight with her; if he'd had children he might have cautioned then to do their schoolwork in the old-fashioned way with pencil and paper; if his aged mother had still been alive he might even have whispered this rare secret to her while the TV lulled her gently into the deep and dreamless deep peculiar to the very old and the very young. But he had no one, except the Doctor and he knew instinctively that the Doctor would not understand
His planning was chillingly methodical. With pen held in the bizarre claw-like grip he favoured, he carefully noted down each of the component parts before tearing it up and re-listing them in alphabetical order. That was better; more ecstatically pleasing to his critical eye and to each part he allocated a number. He allowed himself a brief, inner smile when he scanned the list, before tearing it up and starting again. This time he listed the components by size and probable ease of digestion, astutely discarding speakers, keyboard and mouse as NEI's. Non-essential items. Similarly discarded were printers, all cables, monitor, sound cards, video cards and the Route Master programme.
So he had everything thought out, lists made, NEI's heaved to one side and then he was ready. Caution made him do no more that day. A task so momentous should, he understood, most definitely be slept upon one more time.
He woke bright and early with excitement fluttering in his belly and when he'd emptied his bowels and the feeling remained he knew it was real. He'd received a sign ' from God or his Higher Self or from the very Devil he didn't know or care ' but he gave a nodding thanks to Whatever made him feel this good and began to dismantle the computer.
He studied the list until the words he'd written jumbled up and cartwheeled around in front of his eyes. What seemed so right the day before suddenly now loomed huge and menacing. Unworkable. He spun round sharply. Who said that? But his voice echoed emptily inside the Silence of the house where the only human voice heard since the death of his mother was his own.
Testing a voice box not used since last Thursday he spoke again. Should I begin with the most important, the most easily digestible or the largest - to get it over with? Silence seemed disinclined to solve his dilemma so, clearing his throat awkwardly, he addressed himself again. This is my project. It is unique and therefore there are no blueprints, no tried-and-tested scientific methods, no FAQ's. It's all trial and error.
He surveyed the entrails of the machine which he'd systematically dissected. The case lay on its side, raped of it's wizardry it looked not unlike his mother's old biscuit tin. The processor lay in similar disarray.
RAM! He cried. The source of all computer knowledge is the memory. I must eat the RAM first With great excitement he threw RAM chips into his mouth crunching down noisily and the metallic taste left his mouth tingling, making him raid the fridge for milk.
Afterwards he felt quite full so he lay down for a rest. The metallic taste persisted and drove him from his sleep state to brush his teeth sixty-seven times. However apart from the weird taste he felt amazingly well. As if to prove it to himself he leapt to his feet and danced a rather neat tango with the motherboard in his arms. I never knew I could tango. But then he remembered of course he knew tango. He knew everything. He stroked the motherboard lovingly. Without you my beauty the computer will not function so I better make you next on the menu. He opened his mouth and bit down hard.
With the demolition of RAM and motherboard complete he felt he should call it a night. Never a big eater, he was nonetheless pleased at the way his rangy, spare frame absorbed the intellectual cuisine and he lay down satisfied, giving no more thought to the order in which his mechanical feast would continue.
Next morning he awoke with a burning pain in his gut, his whole body was sweating as if trying to rid itself of some unknown ill, so he lurched into the computer room and promptly ate the CPU Cooler.
By late afternoon he was drowsy but this he understood was natural and anyway he'd expected as much. He was aware that most physical conditions manifest in the brain first, only appearing in the physical body when ignored' and he knew without doubt his brain was absorbing data at an incredible rate. I'm a pioneer - the first truly human computer. He wondered if he should go and show himself to the Doctor but as he was due a scheduled visit the next day which was Thursday, he decided he could wait and spent the rest of the day gorging himself on assortment of components he found lying around.
Software! He chewed furiously on a firewall, ignoring the burning and blurring of his vision which, if he had been honest with himself, began soon after he'd ingested the RAM. Fans! He ate them too, driven by a growing concern that he'd overloaded himself with information. But he seemed to be jammed up ' or rather frozen; he corrected himself thinking it only right that he use computer terminology when referring to himself now. After all he was more computer than human. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger; he announced to the Silence and chomped the modem with formidable alacrity.
By next morning all that was left in the computer room was a jumbled mess of discarded NEI's. He pushed the keyboard with a foot, lazily, consideringly. No he said to the Silence that would just be greed! He knew when enough was enough. He fumbled his way to the bedroom where he got ready for his appointment with the Doctor.
His vision worsened through the night and he had real difficulty finding his clothes so it was easier to pull on the rumpled sweater from the day before than it was to circumnavigate his way to the wardrobe. His eyes had always been weak but even the ugly bottom-of-a-bottle thickness of his glasses did not help. He made his slow way to the living room and the telephone. He stretched out a hand, noticing with mechanical dispassion the new trembling in his fingers and pressed the speed dial button which instantly connected him to a local taxi firm.
Fortunately the loud blaring horn of the cab outside his door meant he had no need to see. It's Reggie today, he told the Silence. Reggie always laid his hammy fist heavily on the horn and no amount of complaining seemed to make any difference, but today he was glad of it. He groped his way blindly out of the door, patting his pockets to feel the reassuring bump of keys and wallet in his pocket.
'Fine day,' Reggie blared, his voice every bit as loud as the horn he employed with such gusto.
It is. Although it worried him a bit that he couldn't see the sun or the clear blue sky he imagined was above him. He climbed into the back of the car, stumbling badly.
'All right there old boy?' Reggie heaved his massive body around in concern.
He waved a trembling hand vaguely. Fine, fine.
'On the sauce last night were we?' Reggie asked loudly, as if talking to a child.
He mumbled something Reggie took as agreement and the car set of smoothly into the flow of traffic. 'Usual is it?'
Yes please. Without the use of his eyes the familiar journey appeared strange and convoluted and by the time they arrived at the surgery, he was fairly rattled. Could you help me inside?
Reggie laughed his snorting laugh. 'You really gave it a hammering then,' he chuckled.
Gave what a hammering?
'The sauce bottle,' Reggie winked opening the door for his passenger. 'Right now, let's be having you. Not too steady on the old pins there are you? Never mind I've broad shoulders ' need to have with all the shit life throws at me ' ha ha. Never mind. We'll all be dead soon eh? Leave you at reception? Righty tighty. I'll be waiting outside as usual' He waved a hand and trundled back to his cab.

Thirty minutes later he was led by a nurse out to the waiting taxi with words like preposterous¦ hospital immediately¦ institution¦ and mental problems¦ ringing in his ears, although the Doctor took great pains to explain that these things don't carry the stigma they used to. The Doctor, normally a kind and gentle man with a well-modulated voice, appeared shocked and outraged by what he'd done. So, in order make the Doctor feel better, he explained how he was actually improving himself but this seemed to worry the Doctor even more. Backward instead of forward¦ maybe now is the time to¦ complete run of tests¦ never heard of such a thing¦
'All right then old boy?' Reggie opened the back door of the cab and helped him in. 'Nothing serious I hope.'
You know how it is. He jerked his head blindly towards where he thought the surgery might be. Overcautious. Don't want any of us old boys dying on their doorstep so to speak. They wanted to take me to hospital in an ambulance. An ambulance! With you waiting out here and me paying good money every week for waiting time and they want to waste resources on ambulances. I gave them a piece of my mind I can tell you.
'Are we going to the hospital?' Reggie asked and from the rear of the cab he heard the concerned tone in the driver's voice and was grateful for it.
They want me to go, but I think I'll go home instead.
The big man shook his head. 'If the doc reckons you should be in hospital then that's where you should be. Come on old man. A quick in and out I'll bet ' they don't like to waste beds nowadays.'
I'm going home.
But the taxi driver wasn't convinced. The old boy had his dander up for God knows what reason but shouldn't he at least try to get him to hospital? If not Reggie knew well that the old boy would disappear inside that old house of his and not appear again until next Thursday. Reggie often wondered what he did in there all the time. 'Don't it drive you nuts like?' he'd asked once 'I mean what about shopping?'
Shopping?
'You know food and that.'
I get everything I need online. They deliver too.
Reggie never had the old boy down as one of those ' what do folks call them' computer geeks. Still he was all in favour of rights for the elderly and the old boy still had all his marbles although his eyes were getting bad. 'All right,' Reggie said finally 'you're the boss.'
He settled back in his seat, feeling strangely surreal as Reggie took them expertly through familiar streets he was learning to redefine without using his eyes. 'What do they think is wrong with you anyway?' Reggie couldn't help but ask, pulling up outside the old boy's house.
It's probably just a virus. He let the driver lead him up the path but when the key was in the lock and the door pushed open, he pressed some coins into Reggie's fleshy palm. Thanks Reggie. Take this for your trouble. I'll be fine now. Thank you. He was inside before the big man could blink.
With his hands on the walls he climbed the stairs eager to get to the Computer Room where he knew he had some anti-virus software in the NEI pile.