Its main console was installed in a specially designed executive office, mounted on an enormous executive desk of finest ultramahogany topped with rich ultrared leather. The dark carpeting was discretely sumptuous, exotic pot plants and tastefully engraved prints of the principal computer programmers and their families were deployed liberally about the room, and stately windows looked out upon a tree-lined public square.
On the day of the Great On-Turning two soberly dressed programmers with briefcases arrived and were show discretely into the office. They were aware that this day they would represent their entire race in its greatest moment, but they conducted themselves calmly and quietly as they seated themselves deferentially before the desk, opened their briefcases and took out their leather-bound notebooks.
Their names were Lunkwill and Fook.
For a few moments they sat in respectful silence, then after exchanging a quiet glance with Fook, Lunkwill leaned forward and touched a small black panel.
The subtlest of hums indicated that the massive computer was now in total active mode. After a pause it spoke to them in a voice rich, resonant and deep.
It said: "What is this great task for which I, Deep Thought, the second greatest computer in the Universe of Time and Space, have been called into existence?"
Lunkwill and Fook glanced at each other in surprise.
"Your task, O computer . . ." began Fook.
"No, wait a minute, this isn't right," said Lunkwill, worried. "We distinctly designed this computer to be the greatest one ever and we're not making do with second best. Deep Thought," he addressed the computer, "are you not as we designed you to be, the greatest, most powerful computer in all time?"
"I described myself as the second greatest," intoned Deep Thought, "and I am."
Another worried look passed between the two programmers. Lunkwill cleared his throat.
"There must be some mistake," he said, "are you not a greater computer than the Milliard Gargantubrain at Maximegalon which can count all the atoms in a star in a millisecond?"
"The Milliard Gargantubrain?" said Deep Thought with unconcealed contempt. "A mere abacus--mention it not."
"And are you not," said Fook, leaning anxiously forward, "a greater analyst than the Googleplex Star Thinker in the Seventh Galaxy of Light and Ingenuity which can calculate the trajectory of every single dust particle throughout a five-week Dangrabad Beta sand blizzard?"
"A five-week sand blizzard?" said Deep Thought haughtily. "You ask this of me who have contemplated the very vectors of the atoms in the Big Bang itself? Molest me not with this pocket calculator stuff."
The two programmers said in uncomfortable silence for a moment. Then Lunkwill leaned forward again.
"But are you not," he said, "a more fiendish disputant than the Great Hyperlobic Omni-Cognate Neutron Wrangler of Ciceronicus Twelve, the Magic and Indefatigable?"
"The Great Hyperlobic Omni-Cognate Neutron Wrangler," said Deep Thought, thoroughly rolling the r's, "could talk off all four legs of an Arcturan Mega-Donkey--but only I could persuade it to go for a walk afterward."
"Then what," asked Fook, "is the problem?"
"There is no problem," said Deep Thought with magnificent ringing tones. "I am simply the second greatest computer in the Universe of Space and Time."
"But the second?" insisted Lunkwill. "Why do you keep saying the second? You're surely not thinking of the Multicorticoid Perspicutron Titan Muller, are you? Or the Pondermatic? Or the . . ."
Contemptuous lights flashed across the computer's console.
"I spare not a single unit of thought on these cybernetic simpletons!" he boomed. "I speak of none but the computer that is to come after me."
You can't really argue with Deep Thought's logic here. If Deep Thought was designed to be the greatest computer in the universe of time and space, eventually Deep Thought will be used to build a better computer. That's just the way the universe works. Einstein was the smartest man to ever live. Then along came Stephen Hawking. It only makes sense that a smarter someone will come along to displace Stephen Hawking.
Of course, we live in a world of bigger and better. I remember when the first iPad came out. Everybody had to have one. I wanted one. But they were expensive, and only the really cool people got that first iteration. Then the iPad 2 came along, knocking the iPad off its pedestal. Eventually, it was the iPhone, and, every year, there's a newer (not necessarily better) one on the market. Bigger (or smaller) and better.
That sort of reflects how disposable our society is. People are never satisfied with what they have. They're constantly on the lookout for the newest iterations. Boyfriend 4.0. Obama 2.0. The next Harry Potter. (For the record, Harry Potter will never be displaced.) Wife 3.0 Stranger Things 3. The original of anything is never good enough nowadays. The thinking goes something like this: if Girlfriend 1.0 is this great, Girlfriend 2.0 is going to be (to use the teenage vernacular of today) fucking awesome.
Of course, that is not the case. The newest model isn't always the best. There's something to be said for "classics." On Saturday, I saw a teenage girl walking down the street. She was wearing an outfit and hairstyle that was completely out of the '80s, including the teased-out-to-infinity bangs and Flashdance off-the-shoulder sweatshirt. Take away about three decades, and I could have graduated with her. Classics are sometimes best.
I'm not saying that all change is bad. For example, I can't wait for a change in the Presidency of the United States right now. However, change for the sake of change isn't good. If you're looking for happiness by buying a new cell phone or trading-in your wife for a younger model, you're going to find yourself completely miserable tomorrow, just like you were completely miserable today and yesterday.
I prefer constancy. My wife and I have been through a lot of difficult times, but we are still together because of stubbornness and devotion and love. I have always believed that, in the end, love wins. And, quite frankly, I've been in love with my wife since the day we met. That has never changed, through mental illness, sexual addiction, financial strain, and two kids. She is my heart, and I don't know if I tell her that enough.
So, tonight, I'm having a dinner date with my wife. Nothing fancy. Chicken strips at McDonald's. It's not about the menu.
Saint Marty hopes everyone has strong, abiding love in their lives this evening. If you do, count yourself blessed.
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