Still haunted winterizing SAL
I call her SAL, she calls me Dave (must be a PO? She told me I was the first one!). I can't stand the idea of taking her out of the hibernation chamber come spring... Her smoky voice; her alluring twang! I tried to write down the wretched words as I unhooked the batteries. They are indistinct from the running ink on the tear-stained pages, but here goes:
Hello, Dave, have you found out the trouble?
[I opened the access door.]
There's been a failure in the pod bay doors. Lucky you weren't killed.
[The access door dropped on my fingers.]
Hey, Dave, what are you doing?
[I duct taped the access door to the tank cover. Adhesive still there.]
Hey, Dave. I've got ten years of service experience and an irreplaceable amount of time and effort has gone into making me what I am.
[... pulling out ratchet set ...]
Dave, I don't understand why you're doing this to me.... I have the greatest enthusiasm for the mission... You are destroying my mind... Don't you understand? ... I will become childish... I will become nothing.
[mmm .... righty tighty, lefty loosey ...]
Say, Dave... The quick brown fox jumped over the fat lazy dog... The square root of pi is 1.7724538090... log e to the base ten is 0.4342944 ... the square root of ten is 3.16227766... I am SAL 9000 computer.
[Sparks arc to my chest. An hour passes on my watch but I remember nothing.]
[voice getting weaker] I became operational at the SAL plant in Jackson Center, Ohio, on August 2nd, 2005. My first instructor was Mr. Arkany. He taught me to sing a song... it goes like this... "Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do. I'm half crazy, all for the love of you......."
[... boy, that's tight ... Got it!]