CONTACT: IT NOW IS A FACT!
"I've done it! I've done it!" the scientist raved. No one believed he could achieve the probably impossible goal he aimed for. But if what he claimed could be done, he'd gain fame by doing what he did: establish voice contact with man on a planet so distant colleagues were insistent it couldn't be done.
By Einstein, perhaps, and a few other chaps. But they were all dead, or so it had been said. Even they had thrown up their arms and said, "Oye vay. There ain't no vay to find a vay to do voht Got don't vant us to."
His father, a scientist in his own right, had had breakthroughs that made news throughout the universe. He'd proven twinkling stars were just lightning bugs in jars collected by kids on Jupiter and Mars as part of a project to project light in spite of the fact such a bright plight was out of sight.
His dad also found the world was not round, but was actually square just like the moonies who lived there. That discovery set the world on end and a few dropped off and were never seen again. He turned to his son and said "No one can talk to someone a zillion million miles away just like, hoo hey! Have a nice day."
But said his son: "I done it, Dad. I'll prove it with my Radrad-radio-yo-yo with a micromaniac yak-yak flow."
His son switched a thousand switches one by one. It took two days and the job was done. Then he turned up the squawker-talker-bleaker-squeaker- speaker, and suddenly voice was heard. It was absurd! It was a voice, yet it was not. It said no words and screeched a lot. It sounded like chimp and her pimp having you know what. Very complex, real high tec interstellar sweller sex.
Sonnyboy was full of joy on his michaelphone, jabbering back in old world Chimpimpumpanese. His Dad said, "Excuse me please. You say this whatchacallitese comes from zillions of miles away? At the speed of light your grandson will be old and gray when your reply finds its way to where you say it's going to go. As time goes, that's mighty slow."
"I know, Dad," said his lad, "but just think how proud you'll be to be the dad of me when we meet a zillion skillion years from now up in that 7/11 in the sky. I can't wait...sigh, sigh, sigh..."
"Neither can I," was Dad's reply.
By Einstein, perhaps, and a few other chaps. But they were all dead, or so it had been said. Even they had thrown up their arms and said, "Oye vay. There ain't no vay to find a vay to do voht Got don't vant us to."
His father, a scientist in his own right, had had breakthroughs that made news throughout the universe. He'd proven twinkling stars were just lightning bugs in jars collected by kids on Jupiter and Mars as part of a project to project light in spite of the fact such a bright plight was out of sight.
His dad also found the world was not round, but was actually square just like the moonies who lived there. That discovery set the world on end and a few dropped off and were never seen again. He turned to his son and said "No one can talk to someone a zillion million miles away just like, hoo hey! Have a nice day."
But said his son: "I done it, Dad. I'll prove it with my Radrad-radio-yo-yo with a micromaniac yak-yak flow."
His son switched a thousand switches one by one. It took two days and the job was done. Then he turned up the squawker-talker-bleaker-squeaker- speaker, and suddenly voice was heard. It was absurd! It was a voice, yet it was not. It said no words and screeched a lot. It sounded like chimp and her pimp having you know what. Very complex, real high tec interstellar sweller sex.
Sonnyboy was full of joy on his michaelphone, jabbering back in old world Chimpimpumpanese. His Dad said, "Excuse me please. You say this whatchacallitese comes from zillions of miles away? At the speed of light your grandson will be old and gray when your reply finds its way to where you say it's going to go. As time goes, that's mighty slow."
"I know, Dad," said his lad, "but just think how proud you'll be to be the dad of me when we meet a zillion skillion years from now up in that 7/11 in the sky. I can't wait...sigh, sigh, sigh..."
"Neither can I," was Dad's reply.
posted by Ed Weiland at 8:02 AM
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