RE: Petty Squabble [ROUND 3] [Goldhenge]
10-11-2013, 08:59 PM
(This post was last modified: 10-11-2013, 09:02 PM by Godbot.)
“No, no, warranty.”
“Worr-an-tee,” the peasant sitting across from Envoy sounded out, squinting at the pile of papers in his hands.
“Good enough,” crackled the radio on the desk between them. “Basically, if it breaks or gets lost, we’ll return the money you paid or send you a new one. So, do you want yours to last a long time, or a short while?”
The peasant frowned, thinking for a long moment. “If… I ‘can’t find’ it, and I tell you, then it’s… free?” he asked carefully, in a tone of voice that very clearly came from a people that had yet to perfect the arts of lying and scheming.
“Well, yes,” admitted the radio, a little laugh in the voice on the other end. “But we’ll cancel your service.”
“Oh, of course,” said the peasant, nodding thoughtfully.
“It means that your phone won’t be connected to our network anymore. It won’t work.”
“To your what?” he asked, peering at the smartphone on Envoy’s side of the desk. Where was the net supposed to go?
“Which brings us to the topic of your subscription fee,” the radio replied crisply, as Envoy checked off ‘extended warranty’ on its clipboard and flipped the page over. “You see, the phones talk to each other by sending and receiving messages to and from a ‘cell tower,’” the radio intoned. Envoy’s finger joints squeaked as it silently made air quotes. “If they talked to each other, then they would all have to use separate frequencies, which would… ”
The peasant stared.
“Okay, so… let’s say you’ve got two pieces of string.” There was a scribbling sound, a rustle of papers, and a series of rapid beeps. “Motion passed,” said a faint voice on the other end as Envoy fished red and blue balls of string that had retroactively been there the entire time out of its suit pocket. Envoy twisted its red pen, transforming it into a small blade, and neatly cut a length of string from either one.
“You can’t make a net out of such a thin rope,” the peasant replied very seriously, frowning in disapproval.
“If you’re holding one end of the string,” the voice continued, “then you can talk to whoever is holding the other end, even if they’re far away. So let’s say you want to talk to your friend, and Person A wants to talk to Person B at the same time.” Two more arms snaked out of Envoy’s suit, and it stretched the two strings across the table.
The peasant opened his mouth to say something, frowning at the flexible metal arms.
“But now Person C wants to talk to Person D, too,” the voice continued as Envoy placed two fingertips on the table. “But both colors of string are already taken. If C tried to take some more red string and use that, the red strings would get tangled up, and now A and B can’t talk to each other either. Same goes for the blue string. So only four people can talk to each other at the same time.”
“But let’s say we have some thumbtacks, and the thumbtacks can all talk to each other, too.” There was more scribbling and more beeps, and a buzzer sound as a voice called out “Motion failed.”
The voice paused for a long moment.
Envoy took the peasant’s hands and placed his fingertips on the table. In a flurry of motion, it brushed the red and blue strings aside, unraveled some more, and cut off two short pieces of each color. “Now, suppose instead of talking to each other, you all talk to the fingertips, and they send the messages for you.” Envoy looped the two shorter red strings around the peasant’s fingers. “And now the strings aren’t long enough to reach each other, so they can’t get tangled.” It demonstrated how the strings were just barely too short to touch each other. “So now A and B can use one red string to talk to each other at one fingertip, and C and D can use the other. And if you and your friend want to talk to each other, you just talk to your respective fingers, and the fingers talk to each other.” Envoy drew a long blue piece of string from one of the peasant’s fingers to the other.
“And the more towers you have, the bigger the network gets!” Envoy put the peasant’s thumbs on the table and rapidly drew more red and blue strings between his thumbs and index fingers. This occupied all of its hands, so it leaned over and fired a brilliant blue beam of light from its eyes, weaving between the peasant’s fingers and burning clean cuts through the string as needed. “And now you’ve got as many as sixteen people talking to each other with only four towers and two colors of string!” exclaimed the radio.
The peasant whimpered.
“Now right now,” the radio went on, “you’ve only got one functioning fingertip – or ‘radio transmitter’ – and that’s Envoy here.” The robot proudly sat up and straightened its tie. “Which means there are only a couple of strings, or 'frequencies,' for everyone to use. And that’s why with everyone outbidding each other and Envoy working overtime to transmit all of those calls, the price for cell phone service is fifty silver pieces a week.”
The peasant choked and stood from his seat, unwinding the strings from his thumbs. “Never mind, Sir, I couldn’t –“
“Unless,” the radio interrupted, “you were to help us build more radio towers. As many as we can get. We’ll pay you by giving you free phone service, which only gets more valuable as more towers are put up and more people are added to the network.”
The peasant’s eyes widened, and he started to lower himself back into the seat, considering.
“Think about it – with a phone, you’d be able to find out what’s happening in towns reaching as far away as the network goes, without having to walk there. You can communicate with other people without having to leave the safety of your home. If there’s trouble nearby, you’ll know to get to safety, and if your village is attacked, you can call for help from other villages. And think about what hunting would be like if you could whisper across long distances!”
The peasant enthusiastically grabbed for the pen and stabbed it through his stack of papers. After a moment of staring, Envoy reached out and twisted the barrel, retracting the blade and turning it back into a pen. The peasant scratched an X into the signature line and handed it back to Envoy.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” the radio said warmly as Envoy simultaneously tapped the edge of the stack of papers on the desk to straighten it, shook the peasant’s hand, and handed him a colorful box with an image of a smartphone on it.
“Right now we’re mining for the metals we need to construct the towers,” the radio added. “The dig site is that way. You can get started right away. Remember, the bigger you make the network, the smaller you make the world!”
The peasant looked back at him with a look of abject horror on his face, clutching the colorful box to his chest.
“It’s… it’s a figure of speech,” the radio sighed. “Just get to work.”
The peasant nodded and walked past Envoy’s desk, stepping over the wall of its office, which presently only came up to about his knees. Another man who was still building it scowled at him and fixed the layer of mortar that he’d disturbed.
The peasant ignored the man and made his way up the hill to the dig site, which turned out to only be a short way away. He carefully set down his phone, still in its box, took up a shovel and pick, and joined the dozens of other townsfolk in digging at the base of the first of Goldhenge’s twelve pillars.
Even the former Mayor was here! He smiled to himself. This was a good decision, he could already tell.
---
Back at the office-to-be, the other man frowned uneasily at the dig site.
“Don’t you have something better to do than sit and stare?” the radio asked as Envoy looked over its shoulder. “Pumpkin Spice Lattes aren’t going to be in season forever, you know.”
The man frantically fumbled with his trowel and got back to work. Envoy tilted its head back a little, giving the impression of a smile. “That’s the way,” the radio said encouragingly, and Envoy turned to face the open door frame at the other end of the wall. It twisted a little dial on the radio, turning up the volume.
“NEXT!”
“Worr-an-tee,” the peasant sitting across from Envoy sounded out, squinting at the pile of papers in his hands.
“Good enough,” crackled the radio on the desk between them. “Basically, if it breaks or gets lost, we’ll return the money you paid or send you a new one. So, do you want yours to last a long time, or a short while?”
The peasant frowned, thinking for a long moment. “If… I ‘can’t find’ it, and I tell you, then it’s… free?” he asked carefully, in a tone of voice that very clearly came from a people that had yet to perfect the arts of lying and scheming.
“Well, yes,” admitted the radio, a little laugh in the voice on the other end. “But we’ll cancel your service.”
“Oh, of course,” said the peasant, nodding thoughtfully.
“It means that your phone won’t be connected to our network anymore. It won’t work.”
“To your what?” he asked, peering at the smartphone on Envoy’s side of the desk. Where was the net supposed to go?
“Which brings us to the topic of your subscription fee,” the radio replied crisply, as Envoy checked off ‘extended warranty’ on its clipboard and flipped the page over. “You see, the phones talk to each other by sending and receiving messages to and from a ‘cell tower,’” the radio intoned. Envoy’s finger joints squeaked as it silently made air quotes. “If they talked to each other, then they would all have to use separate frequencies, which would… ”
The peasant stared.
“Okay, so… let’s say you’ve got two pieces of string.” There was a scribbling sound, a rustle of papers, and a series of rapid beeps. “Motion passed,” said a faint voice on the other end as Envoy fished red and blue balls of string that had retroactively been there the entire time out of its suit pocket. Envoy twisted its red pen, transforming it into a small blade, and neatly cut a length of string from either one.
“You can’t make a net out of such a thin rope,” the peasant replied very seriously, frowning in disapproval.
“If you’re holding one end of the string,” the voice continued, “then you can talk to whoever is holding the other end, even if they’re far away. So let’s say you want to talk to your friend, and Person A wants to talk to Person B at the same time.” Two more arms snaked out of Envoy’s suit, and it stretched the two strings across the table.
The peasant opened his mouth to say something, frowning at the flexible metal arms.
“But now Person C wants to talk to Person D, too,” the voice continued as Envoy placed two fingertips on the table. “But both colors of string are already taken. If C tried to take some more red string and use that, the red strings would get tangled up, and now A and B can’t talk to each other either. Same goes for the blue string. So only four people can talk to each other at the same time.”
“But let’s say we have some thumbtacks, and the thumbtacks can all talk to each other, too.” There was more scribbling and more beeps, and a buzzer sound as a voice called out “Motion failed.”
The voice paused for a long moment.
Envoy took the peasant’s hands and placed his fingertips on the table. In a flurry of motion, it brushed the red and blue strings aside, unraveled some more, and cut off two short pieces of each color. “Now, suppose instead of talking to each other, you all talk to the fingertips, and they send the messages for you.” Envoy looped the two shorter red strings around the peasant’s fingers. “And now the strings aren’t long enough to reach each other, so they can’t get tangled.” It demonstrated how the strings were just barely too short to touch each other. “So now A and B can use one red string to talk to each other at one fingertip, and C and D can use the other. And if you and your friend want to talk to each other, you just talk to your respective fingers, and the fingers talk to each other.” Envoy drew a long blue piece of string from one of the peasant’s fingers to the other.
“And the more towers you have, the bigger the network gets!” Envoy put the peasant’s thumbs on the table and rapidly drew more red and blue strings between his thumbs and index fingers. This occupied all of its hands, so it leaned over and fired a brilliant blue beam of light from its eyes, weaving between the peasant’s fingers and burning clean cuts through the string as needed. “And now you’ve got as many as sixteen people talking to each other with only four towers and two colors of string!” exclaimed the radio.
The peasant whimpered.
“Now right now,” the radio went on, “you’ve only got one functioning fingertip – or ‘radio transmitter’ – and that’s Envoy here.” The robot proudly sat up and straightened its tie. “Which means there are only a couple of strings, or 'frequencies,' for everyone to use. And that’s why with everyone outbidding each other and Envoy working overtime to transmit all of those calls, the price for cell phone service is fifty silver pieces a week.”
The peasant choked and stood from his seat, unwinding the strings from his thumbs. “Never mind, Sir, I couldn’t –“
“Unless,” the radio interrupted, “you were to help us build more radio towers. As many as we can get. We’ll pay you by giving you free phone service, which only gets more valuable as more towers are put up and more people are added to the network.”
The peasant’s eyes widened, and he started to lower himself back into the seat, considering.
“Think about it – with a phone, you’d be able to find out what’s happening in towns reaching as far away as the network goes, without having to walk there. You can communicate with other people without having to leave the safety of your home. If there’s trouble nearby, you’ll know to get to safety, and if your village is attacked, you can call for help from other villages. And think about what hunting would be like if you could whisper across long distances!”
The peasant enthusiastically grabbed for the pen and stabbed it through his stack of papers. After a moment of staring, Envoy reached out and twisted the barrel, retracting the blade and turning it back into a pen. The peasant scratched an X into the signature line and handed it back to Envoy.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” the radio said warmly as Envoy simultaneously tapped the edge of the stack of papers on the desk to straighten it, shook the peasant’s hand, and handed him a colorful box with an image of a smartphone on it.
“Right now we’re mining for the metals we need to construct the towers,” the radio added. “The dig site is that way. You can get started right away. Remember, the bigger you make the network, the smaller you make the world!”
The peasant looked back at him with a look of abject horror on his face, clutching the colorful box to his chest.
“It’s… it’s a figure of speech,” the radio sighed. “Just get to work.”
The peasant nodded and walked past Envoy’s desk, stepping over the wall of its office, which presently only came up to about his knees. Another man who was still building it scowled at him and fixed the layer of mortar that he’d disturbed.
The peasant ignored the man and made his way up the hill to the dig site, which turned out to only be a short way away. He carefully set down his phone, still in its box, took up a shovel and pick, and joined the dozens of other townsfolk in digging at the base of the first of Goldhenge’s twelve pillars.
Even the former Mayor was here! He smiled to himself. This was a good decision, he could already tell.
---
Back at the office-to-be, the other man frowned uneasily at the dig site.
“Don’t you have something better to do than sit and stare?” the radio asked as Envoy looked over its shoulder. “Pumpkin Spice Lattes aren’t going to be in season forever, you know.”
The man frantically fumbled with his trowel and got back to work. Envoy tilted its head back a little, giving the impression of a smile. “That’s the way,” the radio said encouragingly, and Envoy turned to face the open door frame at the other end of the wall. It twisted a little dial on the radio, turning up the volume.
“NEXT!”