I guess it's all my fault. I was over at Mike's house, checking out his slot car race track. Since Mike retired, he built a huge track, just like back in the 1950s, in a spare room in his house. I didn't have a car, but he let me use one of his, one of the first he built, broken in nicely. It's very satisfying to listen to the soft zip, zip of the cars as they make each lap. Anyway, while I was appreciating the slot car experience I had this idea, that you could find anything out, without having to question people, invading their privacy, or breaking into their houses. I could write software to do that, and I would call it Not Actually Being There (NABT).
Once I have an idea like that, I can't let it go. I worked on it, steadily, for over a year. Here's how it works: I developed ten basic questions, and ten degrees of truthiness, for each question. Then I worked in a lot of probability formulas. I created a kind of computer virus (let's not call it that, because it doesn't gather personal information, or slow down anybody's computer down) which silently installed itself into millions of computers. It basically finds out what Wikipedia articles people have been reading. Bingo. I can find anything out, and be really sure, at least 99 percent of the time, whether anything is true or not. I can tell you what color underwear Prince Charles prefers. I can tell you Karl Rove's favorite comic book.
Actually, I have been an information hound for some time. I love rolling, locking file banks. They protect you against earthquake. It wouldn't be pleasant, squished between tons of records. I'm going through an archive of Johnny Horizon, right now. You wouldn't believe how much inspirational literature, bumper stickers, action figures, and the like that the government cranked out, to keep people from littering. Then, the whole thing was suppressed. The campaign was too effective. It made people concerned about more than just littering. They really wanted things cleaned up! So the industrial lobbyists stepped in, and Johnny Horizon disappeared. Abducted by aliens. No more. But he lives on, in my file banks.
My troubles began when the government, in its own insidious way, found out about my software program. I first noticed a government vehicle, or several of them, parked in the supermarket parking lot facing my house. I notice when people are parked facing my house. They could be thieves, waiting to break into my house, and steal one of my steins, something like that. I don't actually drink beer. Not more than one at a time. But when I do, I drink it in a stein.
After several weeks of surveillance, I finally went over to one of the vehicles, and asked the man in the car, who was eating a slice of pizza, if there was anything he would like to know. The fellow, who said his name was George, agreed to come over. From what I know about government agents, you can't believe them when they tell you their names. His actual name is Fern Brackman. He grew up in Toledo, and was born in 1949, two years after I was. My file banks have an automatic locking feature. You press a button, and they all roll over to one side. I could have killed him right then, by pinning him between several three ton shelves.
He wanted to know what I could find out, using my software. So I did a test run. I explained to him that none of the information would hold up in court, because it was based on complex mathematical algorithms. Then I showed him all about Mitt Romney's finances. Nothing he does is technically illegal, by the way. He's a complete scumbag, though, and a terrible Mormon. The guy seemed impressed, but didn't say much. The next day, they came over, and removed all of my computing equipment, including my Kindle, for God's sake. I don't think anyone could use a Kindle, for what I do. I just liked to read Sherlock Holmes mysteries on it.
It didn't bother me much, really, the loss of my computers. I was getting a little bored with that activity. But, I could have sold the software to Fox News. They wouldn't have to take risks like tapping people's phones anymore. I'll have my payback time, though. I put in a back door, and I can go to the library, and log in to my program. They have it working somewhere in Utah, probably under a mountain. They can't hide from me.