THE POWER OF THE MOUSE
Some said Herbie was dumb and that was partly true because he always forgot what he knew and minuets after he knew it, no matter how many times he went through it, he couldn't do it.
If it was September he thought it was June.He looked at the moon, blink his eyes and then stare at the skies and look for the sun. Everyone had fun teasing Herbie about his strange affliction. They'd read him a Shakespearean sonnet, a hundred lines or more. Herbie would recite it back, word for word, then forget what he said two minuets before. And his tormentors would roar.
The game would go on, marveling how he would forget what he had remembered, right after he repeated it, it would be gone. A wiseguy named Si said, "Why don't we read Herbie a dictionary, an Einstein theory." They though of "War and Peace." On a real estate lease. Finally they decided on a telephone book.
"What are we going to prove by that?" asked a jokester who loved to poke fun at the dummy. "He'll recite it right back and then he'll forget it. Just let it be."
Herbie heard every word. then said: "Try me." They told him what they said and then what he replied and Herbie's eyes opened wide and he denied what he said then denied the denial and the trial began.
Herbie took one look at the telephone book and then said with a smile, "I'll read it myself." He forgot he'd learned to read, then forgot he'd forgotten how and proceeded at an unbelievable speed, number by number, letter by letter. He read faster and faster until no one understood a thing he said.
Here's a sample of what he read and said: "J-o-n-e-s, J-o-h-n, 2-1-2 Fi-r-s-t A-v-e-n-u-e, 2-1-2-9-5-4..."
Well, you get the gist. This list went on from dawn to dark without a pause. That's the way it was because Herbie forgot how to read, but he remembered letters and numbers perfectly and read them individually. The next morning found Herbie still at work. He'd start to doze, then jerk his head up from near asleep and plow on. When he'd reached the "L's" in the telephone book he shut his eyes and fell into a deep seemingly irreversible sleep.
Then on the third of May he stirred and from the depths of his mind, he began to recall all he had remembered, then forgotten, from near infancy until his impending death at sixty three. He resumed his endless dialogue ol all the words he ever heard.
Herbie's voice droned on and on in monotone without emotion from the depths of a coma in the hospital bed where he lay almost but not quite dead. But once in a while his lips would curl into a smile and he would say often, "Momma. what does that word mean?" Then he would resume the routine recitation of his overloaded memory.
As his memory drifted in and out he wondered less what the words were all about. By rote he would emote from somewhere deeper than his throat the words impl;anted in his mind. When the doctor knew Herbie was in the final days of his phone book phase he researched the dying man's medical history and solved the mystery of his amazing mind, And this is the astounding summary of what he found:
Herbie was born and still is a computer whiz. From the age of three he remembered every word he ever heard, But he feared he'd forget so he devised a memory overload, a bank where only he would know the code. Not even he could erase or misplace what had been deposited in his interface without using the code. Which he forgot.
Thus the doctor knew what he had to do to end Herbie's readout and release this tortured soul from the control of the Info Industry.
The doctor put a mouse on Herbie's head and said: "DELETE!" Herbie, the human computer. was dead.
If it was September he thought it was June.He looked at the moon, blink his eyes and then stare at the skies and look for the sun. Everyone had fun teasing Herbie about his strange affliction. They'd read him a Shakespearean sonnet, a hundred lines or more. Herbie would recite it back, word for word, then forget what he said two minuets before. And his tormentors would roar.
The game would go on, marveling how he would forget what he had remembered, right after he repeated it, it would be gone. A wiseguy named Si said, "Why don't we read Herbie a dictionary, an Einstein theory." They though of "War and Peace." On a real estate lease. Finally they decided on a telephone book.
"What are we going to prove by that?" asked a jokester who loved to poke fun at the dummy. "He'll recite it right back and then he'll forget it. Just let it be."
Herbie heard every word. then said: "Try me." They told him what they said and then what he replied and Herbie's eyes opened wide and he denied what he said then denied the denial and the trial began.
Herbie took one look at the telephone book and then said with a smile, "I'll read it myself." He forgot he'd learned to read, then forgot he'd forgotten how and proceeded at an unbelievable speed, number by number, letter by letter. He read faster and faster until no one understood a thing he said.
Here's a sample of what he read and said: "J-o-n-e-s, J-o-h-n, 2-1-2 Fi-r-s-t A-v-e-n-u-e, 2-1-2-9-5-4..."
Well, you get the gist. This list went on from dawn to dark without a pause. That's the way it was because Herbie forgot how to read, but he remembered letters and numbers perfectly and read them individually. The next morning found Herbie still at work. He'd start to doze, then jerk his head up from near asleep and plow on. When he'd reached the "L's" in the telephone book he shut his eyes and fell into a deep seemingly irreversible sleep.
Then on the third of May he stirred and from the depths of his mind, he began to recall all he had remembered, then forgotten, from near infancy until his impending death at sixty three. He resumed his endless dialogue ol all the words he ever heard.
Herbie's voice droned on and on in monotone without emotion from the depths of a coma in the hospital bed where he lay almost but not quite dead. But once in a while his lips would curl into a smile and he would say often, "Momma. what does that word mean?" Then he would resume the routine recitation of his overloaded memory.
As his memory drifted in and out he wondered less what the words were all about. By rote he would emote from somewhere deeper than his throat the words impl;anted in his mind. When the doctor knew Herbie was in the final days of his phone book phase he researched the dying man's medical history and solved the mystery of his amazing mind, And this is the astounding summary of what he found:
Herbie was born and still is a computer whiz. From the age of three he remembered every word he ever heard, But he feared he'd forget so he devised a memory overload, a bank where only he would know the code. Not even he could erase or misplace what had been deposited in his interface without using the code. Which he forgot.
Thus the doctor knew what he had to do to end Herbie's readout and release this tortured soul from the control of the Info Industry.
The doctor put a mouse on Herbie's head and said: "DELETE!" Herbie, the human computer. was dead.
posted by Ed Weiland at 8:05 AM
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