The Instant Messaging Machine
Trevor Belshaw
Stiff Brandy
'What an interesting device, Sir Oswald. What does it do
exactly?'
Albert Parkin straightened his
cravat, leant back in the stiff leather chair and took a sip from his brandy
glass.
'This,' said Sir Oswald, 'is my
latest invention. I call it the /IM machine/. It is capable of sending short
messages to recipients anywhere in the world; providing they have one of these
devices of course.'
'Doesn't the Telegraph system
already do that?' asked Albert.
Sir Oswald nodded. 'Yes, but this
little beauty can be set up in a person’s own home or office.' A huge grin
spread over his face. 'No waiting for the delivery boy.
'It does look very impressive,'
said Mrs Parkin from the back of the machine. Her head appeared through a cloud
of steam. 'How does one send an instant message?'
Sir Oswald puffed out his chest
and stood proudly in front of the contraption. He opened a small door and threw
in a single lump of coal. A fresh burst of steam hissed from a valve at the
rear making Mrs Parkin scurry round to the front. She laid a soft hand on Sir
Oswald's arm as a small cloud of smoke snaked from a funnel on top.
Let's say,' said Sir Oswald,
'that I wanted to send a message to Mrs Pettigrew, my secretary at Crankshaft
and Piston Ltd. All I would have to do is this...'
Sir Oswald pulled a red lever,
twisted a dial and pulled on a green handle. He turned to Mrs Parkin with a
smile as a panel slid to the side and a typewriter keyboard presented itself.
'Voila.'
Sir Oswald fingers danced across
the brightly polished keys. As he hit return, the machine emitted a small toot.
There was a crunching of cogs, and more steam hissed from the safety valve. To
Mrs Parkin's delight a thin strip of tape appeared from a slot in front of her.
At Sir Oswald's invitation, Mrs
Parkin pulled the tape from the slot and read aloud.
'Mrs Pettigrew. Please reply to
this message immediately.'
Sir Oswald fed the tape into a
second slot just above the first, and pressed the return key again.
'Shouldn't take a minute,' he
preened. 'We have an identical machine in the office. We're hoping to have
thirty of them littered around the county by the end of next year.'
Sir Oswald poured himself another
brandy and strolled back to the IM machine.
'It's taking longer than usual,'
he said with a frown.
The machine began to vibrate,
then shake. Boiling water dripped from the safety valve.
Sir Oswald stood back in alarm.
Mrs Parkin leapt behind her husband's chair and peered over the top. 'It's
going to blow up!' she cried.
The noise became louder as the
contraption began to shudder violently. Hobson, Sir Oswald's butler, placed his
hands on the machine in an effort to steady it. He leapt back with a scream of
pain as his fingers came into contact with the hot metal.
Suddenly the machine went quiet,
then it belched and spat out a sliver of tape.
Sir Oswald picked it up and read
aloud.
@SirOswald #FF
@newfangledinventions, prizes for first ten to RT
Sir Oswald tore up the tape and
threw it into the bin.
'We're working on a spam filter,'
he said.
TRACY'S HOT MAIL!
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Children's books are written under the name of Trevor
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The Wishnotist and Magic Molly book three The Yellow Eye,
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Website: http://www.trevorbelshaw.com
Te he!
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