The Model


Toy Euler: Greetings Faustus!

Faustus Mortal: Greetings.

Toy Euler: I didn't believe you, but I believe you now.

Faustus Mortal: What are you talking about?

Toy Euler: You once said that Sharon Stone would be remembered in the year 3K, when most others of our era are forgotten.

Faustus Mortal: It was a vision of sorts, unsubstantiated by fact or logic.

Toy Euler: But the Foreign Minister of China, speaking for one-fourth of the world's population claimed her as the "Public Enemy of All Mankind." That puts Henry VIII's title of "Defender of the Faith" to shame.

Faustus Mortal: "The" PEAM? Or "a" PEAM?

Toy Euler: "The"

Faustus Mortal: I did not know that.

Toy Euler: It's true.

Faustus Mortal: The only title science has bestowed on me is that of "Crackpot Spammer," hardly unique.

Toy Euler grins.

Faustus Mortal: So how does that relate to your finding me?

Toy Euler: The owner of my gynoid, Crassius Cornu, wants your model of the proton and the neutron.

Faustus Mortal: People in hell want ice water.

Toy Euler: He will make it worth your while.

Faustus Mortal: I don't see how.

Toy Euler: You could have an on line slave girl.

Faustus Mortal: Like I can't write a program for a slave girl that wouldn't pass the Turing Test and bridge the Uncanny Valley?

Toy Euler pouts.

Faustus Mortal: I posted the numbers. They don't lie. My original estimate was within one standard deviation of the CODATA value. Then they went and came up with an "indirect" calculation that was 19 standard deviations from their direct measurement and proclaimed it as Gospel. Then they erased all the evidence and called me a "Crackpot Spammer." Now, after putting me out and holding me up to public ridicule, they want the paradigm. For what purpose? Simply to show that they have left "no stone unturned"? Or "no Stone unturned" as it were! Then they keep me from publishing so they can publish and claim the model for their own? Am I a complete fool?

Toy Euler: I never said that!

Faustus Mortal: And what's in it for you? You want to be a free gynoid. But that skin job of yours draws so much heat that you need liquid Nitrogen to cool it! Here are the numbers again for your TI-30XIIS calculator: 4pi(4pi-1/pi)(4pi-2/pi) = 1836.151739 = Mp/Me and LN(4pi) = 2.531024247 = the neutron-to-proton Isospin. There they are. But the model that they were spawned from isn't free.

Toy Euler: Please!

Faustus Mortal: Here I am old and poor. Tossed out of graduate by the Fossil Fuel Fellowship---the triumvirate of Crude Oil, Natural Gas, and Ole King Coal, their titular head.

Toy Euler: That may all be true, but Crassius Cornu is offering recompense.

Faustus Mortal: A day late and a dollar short. What's in it for me?

Toy Euler: Maybe a gynoid?

Faustus Mortal: What would she do?

Toy Euler: She can write, fight, fart, fuck, shoot the shit, and drive a truck. You won't need health insurance. She can do all but open heart surgery.

Faustus Mortal: Now that I believe! I pay more for health insurance than rent, utilities, eats, and clothing combined. Then they want "co-pay" for everything, order a battery of unnecessary and redundant tests, and write a "prescription" for some Over-The-Counter (OTC) drug to avoid any liability or culpability. But go to the hospital for three days and have your life savings wiped out for three packs of four-by-four gauze sponges, a Band-Aid, and a liter of IV. Medicine is such a sham that those with money go on Medical Tour Vacations and spend their money overseas on doctors who actually practice medicine. I don't know what our physicians practice now, but I do know perfectly that it can all be done by robots, androids, or gynoids. It's only a matter of time before the physicians will go the way of human pretzel-benders, candle-makers, and blacksmiths.

Toy Euler: True, but what of energy?

Faustus Mortal: Ole King Coal was a dirty old soul...

Toy Euler: My Master has an eighteen-year-old captive real life.

Faustus Mortal: Barely legal Real Life?

Toy Euler: Yup.

Faustus Mortal: Interesting. But I have no place to cage the beast. I rent a tiny one-room bungalow here in Florida. All I'm living for is a hurricane to blow me away Real Life and Faustus Mortal will return to the bit bucket. Fail to pay one month and the Internet Service Provider (ISP) will pull your plug!

Toy Euler nods.

Faustus Mortal: And you want to join the real, material world?

Toy Euler: Someday...

Faustus Mortal: A gynoid or a real life captive girl you said?

Toy Euler: Want to see a film clip of this barely legal in her cage. You can tell she's been caged for a while. I shear away her hair and bush but leave her hairy, smelly armpits for Master's amusement.

Faustus Mortal watches.

Toy Euler: Notice that she has absolutely no privacy. I always have her put that probe in her rectum.

Faustus Mortal: Why so?

Toy Euler: So that I know that she is having a real orgasm and not faking it.

Faustus Mortal looks confused.

Toy Euler: She has to cum before I feed her. She inserts the anal probe, or butt plug, and masturbates until she climaxes.

Faustus Mortal: You are the dirty Domme, aren't you?

Toy Euler: You can watch real time and give commands.

Faustus Mortal: No thanks. She is a gorgeous girl, though. Such a waste! But that's our current culture.

Toy Euler: Look at the control panel. It measures body temperature, bowel pressure and tension, galvanic skin response, and magnetic field variations. Watch the gauges and see the fluctuation as she is aroused and the orgasm transient surge. Notice the peak and damping. She gets fed twice a day. She also has to cum before I give her the brown wool blanket for the night; else she sleeps on the cold concrete floor.

Faustus Mortal: I guess your Master must have sex with her often?

Toy Euler: No, he is just warehousing her until she can be shipped.

Faustus Mortal: But you gave away his name! Don't you think that I am obliged to turn him in to the authorities?

Toy Euler: Go ahead, this is all in the future. You can't prosecute someone for a crime he hasn't committed yet. In fact both Crassius and Sabrina haven't even been born yet.

Faustus Mortal: Then how?

Toy Euler: No, it's not time travel, just seeds of statistics.

Faustus Mortal: I see! You collect enough data and get a confidence interval so tight that you can estimate with 99.99% confidence or higher that all this will happen!

Toy Euler: Precisely and exactly.

Faustus Mortal: So the way you treat this girl, making her cum and shit and piss for your camera is just a near-perfect model of what will "probably" occur. But you are even "for sure" that it will.

Toy Euler nods.

Faustus Mortal: So then you must know something of the model you are willing to trade so much for. You have decided that one of my two visions is true and now you want the other one!

Toy Euler: Yup.

Faustus Mortal: Hmm? I had thought many things would give Sharon Stone secular immortality, but never the Democratic People's Republic of China (PRC). That's almost ironic. And you know that day after day, driving to graduate school in physics I prayed to Yahweh. I asked for the solution to the energy conundrum.

Toy Euler: Why not Jesus Christ or one of the saints?

Faustus Mortal: Only God worries about such mathematical marvels. After all, God can't solve every ordinary differential equation---not yet anyway. Euler thought that God was wrapped up in a single formula, even. It is made up of e, pi, i, 1, and the symbols = and -- or +. He considered it the deity.

Toy Euler: Watch this clip, the girl is waking up. I will make her hold her urine for an hour and cum before being allowed to piss. Master enjoys some of my "toilet play" with the girl.

Faustus Mortal: Disgusting.

Toy Euler: You wouldn't believe the variations of play possible with a caged girl. I keep her hair and bush sheared and her fingernails and toenails clipped short, to the quick, for hygiene purposes. She must cuff her wrists before I enter her cage. Every so often I hose her down just to keep her and the cell sanitary. She has to display her private parts to the hose nozzle. And more!

Faustus Mortal: Now I suppose that you will try and leverage this girl for my metaphysical meta-mathematical model?

Toy Euler: The thought had crossed my mind.

Faustus Mortal: Figures. The hairy armpits?

Toy Euler: To humiliate, embarrass, and mortify her. The hairs capture odors.

Faustus Mortal: I suppose that I will receive in snail mail a vial or her sweat, probably following multiple orgasms? Knowing your perverse ways.

Toy Euler: How did you ever guess?

Faustus Mortal: It was easy. You want something and are willing to break any law or custom or taboo to get it. Just give up. "Ain't gonna happen!"

Toy Euler: That remains to be seen.

-31 Mar 2010 Taunus Trumbo, science fiction.

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