Just when you thought that it was safe to go into HyperSpace!

AMIGA-TREK 4.1! (leaves no sticky film!)

(mentally switch to David Letterman Voice)

WARNING : Reading the following may cause damage to unborn
children.

DO NOT TRY THIS IN YOUR OWN HOME!!!

--------------------------------------------------------------

#define PARODY_BIT  ON

When we last left our doleful band of playful Byte Warriors, the
StarChip EnterBoing had just been pre-empted by a roguish
unsigned character, Baron Piechart Von Windshield, the great
"Notorious Intergalactic Scoundrel", (or so it says on his
business card). Piechart was needing a StarChip to fulfill two
lifelong goals : #1 - to find out just who this GURU guy really
was, and why he had to meditate so darned much. And #2 Why was
Manuel Noriega so darned ugly. For the time being, we'll concern
ourselves with the first question, and leave the second to the
dermatologist of the world.

"Captain's Log, Boing Date, oh who really gives a damn. We've
been trapped in the evil grip of Piechart for several days now.
Coming fresh from the Ham-Paint wars, the crew was tired and
anxious to get home so as to enjoy the most recent copies of
.Info magazine. Being redirected to nodes unknown was not in the
plans. Well, at least it gives me some extra time to play the new
hit games SIM-UNIVERSE, Zork -37, Before Zork, Way Before Zork,
and Even Before the Zork's Author's Grandparents were Even Born."

Captain Dale sat back in a wait-state, and began to toy with one
of the new games. The first screen came up, "What is the 4,229th
word on page 9976 of the manual?". A half-hour later he tapped in
"and". Another requestor popped up, "Now add the numerical
equivalent of the characters, take the logarithm of the results,
subtract it from the 2,551th word on page 712, divide it by your
age, divide that by your dogs age. . What? You don't have a dog?
Tough! Get one. Everyone oughtta have a dog. Now multiply that by
the Cosine of 1.570796 radians and type in the answer". 45
minutes later, as the somewhat confused captain was beginning to
wonder how he ever got his job, the sirens began to whoop.
"Whooop! Whooop! Whooop! This whoooping sound is Copyright by the
WhooopPerfect Inc. and may not be used, or heard without the
expressed written consent of WhooopPerfect or the commissioner of
the National Baseball League, or else we'll come over and kick
your dog senseless. . ."

At the sound of the Whoooping ( (c) WhooopPerfect Inc), the
Captain jumpstarted from his chair and darted onto the
Bridgeboard. The eyes of the crew were Locked onto the forward
Digiviewer. 

"What's going on?" asked Dale. 

Bryce spoke up, "Oh, it's YAGFFIS".

"Huh?"

"Yet Another Ghostly Figure Floating In Space". 

As they watched, the vapor-like form began slowly took shape. It
appeared to be that of a large older man, with pearly-white hair.
He was holding something in his hand. 

"A drumstick! It looks like a drumstick!" shouted Jimm.

The crew could now clearly make out the confused
regular-expression on the face of the figure. His mouth slowly
began to move, as if he was talking to himself. He took a bite
out of the drumstick, and began to speak.

"Mmmm,boing, hmm, warning. . hmmmm, Dale, mmphmmm, kick your
dog".

Dale approached the screen, wishing he was back in the
Spectrum-HoloDeck testing out the Playmates of Rigel database.
"Ghostly figure, we mean you no harm. Plus, we can't understand a
darn thing you're saying."

"Oh, sorry about that fellows, it's just that I haven't had
anything to eat for years and I'm famished. What I was trying to
say was, " he now struck an ominous pose, shaking the drumstick
at the ship, "Beware of he who seeks the GURU, for all manner of
plagues shall come upon him." He took another bite of the meat.
"And should, mmph, should he succeed, he shall be, mmmph, his
wildest dreams, mmmmph." The form glanced at his watched. "Ooops,
sorry guys but I gotta go. There's a ship of Nintendoids that I
must terrorize and hold in my ghostly clutches until they can
think of a clever and dramatic way of escape. I tell you, this
ghostly-figure gig just isn't what I thought it would be. Long
hours, lots of travel. You get to meet alot of people, but they
end up hating you. Even being a Pagestream Beta-tester would be
more fun. Cheerio. And if you ever need my services, here's my
card!".

With that, the figure vanished in swirling rainbow clouds, his
card drifting to the floor of the bridge. "Have Warnings, will
Travel" it said. 

The captain looked around. "Piechart? Hey, where'd the ferocious
Baron go?". 

Dale caught sight of him hiding behind the captain's chair. "Uh,
I think my contact lens is around here somewhere."

"You don't where contacts!"

"Well, if I did, one of em would be around here. . ."

Without a moment to lose, Leo spoke up. "Hi guys, did you know
that we've been followed by a sinister looking StarChip for the
past 2 pages or so?"

"Digiviewer on reverse."

The view now looked behind the EnterBoing. 

"We're gonna get killed!" screamed Piechart.

"Oh StuffIt!", snapped Dale, since the viewer showed absolutely
nothing.

"There sir!" And anxious Dave pointed to a dot of light coming
into view.

"Magnify a zillion times".

"Magnification, one-zillion".

"Oh poo."

On the screen now the old nemesis of the EnterBoing became
visible.

"Message coming in sir"

A sinister voice snap, crackled and popped over the speaker.
"EnterBoing, this is the SS-Odyssey. Captain Scullee speaking.
We're going to sue you down to your shorts boys. We warned you in
the last episode to go back to the game-zone where you belong"

"Engines to overscan!"

"There closing sir. And they've armed their Injunction guns!"

A worried Bryce glanced up. "How can they move so fast? I thought
we were the speediest StarChip in this and all other stupid yet
popular parodies?" 

Dale placed his hand on the young ensign's shoulder, and in a
somber tone he replied. "We were son.". He could be seen holding
back tears. "Let's face it, back then, our superior technology
kept us ahead. But now its only cleverness, luck, shear
determination and my monumental good looks. Somewhere along the
line, Mousefleet has simply dropped the trackball. . ."

Crackle, snap, "EnterBoing, Halt! Or we'll fragment your heaps
and dispose of your handles! Hah hah hah hah!. Let's see if
you're a Quickdraw or not!"

The Enterboing raced on closely trailed by the Odyssey. "They're
gaining sir!"

A blinding beam of fruit-shaped decals shot towards them,
striking the 'Boing on the starboard, or is it port side, I
always get them mixed up. Out of habit the crew leaned this way,
then that. The lights flickered on and off. "Quick, the
flickerfixer!". 

"Darned contacts!" said Piechart.

The ship lurched again. Dave knocked his header on a console and
was rendered unconscious.

"Take him to the diskdoctor. . ."

The ensign came to and leapt to his feet. "No!"

Dale smiled, "works every time".

"Oh no, they trashed the Copperman list." shouted Bryce.

"Patch in the Supra-drives, plug in the Accelerator cards. . ."

"Still gaining ground sir. Great looking monitor they got, huh."

Dale looked down. "Well, I guess we'll have to go to our only
advantage, our secret weapon"

"We have a secret weapon?"

"Sure, no StarChip captain worth his weight in Stickybits comes
prepared without his secret-weapon. Press that big red button on
your console.device ensign!"

"Oh, I've never noticed that before!". Jimm punched that Big Red
Button that said "Secret Weapon" in large friendly letters
underneath. There was a shudder throughout the ship, and
immediately they were enveloped by a solid >>Price-Barrier<<." At
that very moment the Odyssey fired a stream of Fillpats, PortBits
and grafPorts towards our crusaders, only to be deflected back
towards the attacking ship. The beam was sucked up into the
event-queue. Activating the program launcher, they fled trailing
a wake of dialog boxes behind them.

"So you see Ensign, this old ship still has a few hypercards up
its sleeve. But I'm afraid our time may be running out."

Meanwhile the EnterBoing sailed on towards Distant Suns, where
their ultimate destiny awaited them.

"Wait, none of this destiny stuff, we just want some hot babes!"

***************************
Chapter 2

With their latest battle over, the crew decided to kick back and
take a rest. Ensign Dave finally had a change to catch up on the
latest issue of AmigaWhirl Magazine. He casually began to flip
through the pages, looking for something to read, but something
was wrong. He couldn't find any articles! The Index to
Advertisers was 4 pages long! In fact, the entire magazine was
nothing but advertisements, stuffed among 2142 response cards.
Finally he discovered the editorial which totalled a single line.
It said simply, "Since we have nothing to say, we'll just say
nothing!"

Meanwhile Jimm was playing with Basic++, and Leo was finishing up
installing some patches to the ships user interface. "Hey guys,
I've just added Voice Recognition to this ship thing of yours,
using the new Hear It! Do It! software from SpeakEasy
Enterprises. This is definitely the wave of the future, no more
of this mucking around with this mouse thingie, merely speak your
command and it will be done." Leo turned towards the front of the
ship and slowly addressed the EnterBoing. "Ship, Digiviewer On!".
There was some whirring, and the combination word-food processor
opened up its door to deliver a hot cup of coffee. "Uh, I think
it still has some bugs". The food system door shut then opened up
again with a plate full of bugs, cockroaches mainly.

An unknown voice came over the message port. "Enterboing! Prepare
to be boarded for Standards Investigation!"

What the crew was in for was a surprise visit from the ANSI
Delegation which enforces standards across the universe. A large
confused mass materialized before them. Limbs poked out in every
direction. 

"Darn, why did they have to arc themselves!" complained Dave.

Unarc'ing the mass revealed 4 rather humorless individuals, all
members of the ANSI police, each carrying a clipboard. They
immediately split up into four directions. "Hmmmm." Said one.
"The colors on this bridge are slightly off the accepted values.
You will have to repaint". Another took out a tape measure. "The
height of the captains chair is 18.33 inches, according to the
ANSI standards manual of StarChip Captain's Ergonomics, page 6,
paragraph 3 sub-paragraph 1.2, it should be 18.36 inches". Yet a
third was checking over the flight controls. "That Big Red Button
that says 'secret weapon'? Well the type font is wrong for the
label. I'm afraid we're going to have to cite you on that one!"

Captain Dale heard the commotion and came out of his office.
"What's going on here?" he asked. One of the delegates glanced up
from his clipboard and waved the other towards him. "We must form
a committee to answer that Captain." They huddled, periodically
hands were raised as votes were taken. Finally they broke up.

"Captain, I'm afraid that you have many severe segment violations
on board this ship. For the price it is just much too fast. . ."

"And capable!" said another.

"And capable. Definitely confusing to the uninformed. Too much
power for the average user. Oh by the way, your uniform is too
large. We'll have to cite you for that. Beards aren't allowed
either, neither are capes". He glanced over to Leo. "Marketing
people just don't know how to handle capes".

Another delegate spoke up. "And we've decided that you're going
to have to get rid of this AmigaDoss stuff you use. There's the
new WeenieDos, designed to simplify stuff for the user. It has
one command, 'dir'. . ."

"But a very good 'dir'. . ."

"If you can't do what you want with 'dir' its just too
complicated. . ."

"For the average user. . ."

"For the average user. We'll head back to our ship gentlemen to
fill out our reports, and we'll see you tomorrow. Good-day, or,
er, night, or whatever-the-hell-it-is when you're in space."

The delegation re-arc'ed themselves and dissolved in a whirlwind.

Dale pondered the meaning of their visit, and how to escape.
Simply firing up the drives would be much to easy. Nah, he'd earn
his pay on this one.

The crew gazed out the X-windows at the ANSI Ship, wondering if
they would all have to learn how to use 'dir'. Just then they
noticed a ghostly form appear before them.

"Hi guys! Nice to see ya again!"

"Hi ghostly god-like creature, what are you doing here".

"You'll never guess! No longer do I have to go around terrorizing
innocent starchips, I quit that job, now I deliver
interdimensional  singing telegrams! I have to sing happy birthday 
to someone on that craft over there". He pointed his drumstick 
towards the ANSI ship.

"Well. . ." the captain said slyly, "Did you know that everyone
on that ship is having a birthday? All 1,203 members of the crew
and delegation? Amazing coincidence, isn't it?". 

"Oh really?". The figure's face lit up. "Maybe I should sing
happy birthday to each of them, then I'll make alot of friends!".

"You do that! You do that."

"Ciao!". The form vanished, only to appear in front of the other
craft. Thru the vacuum of space, the crew could hear an
agonizingly clumsy rendition of "Happy Birthday", sung to each of
the ANSI people in alphabetical order. He was only down to "Alan"
when Dale thought it was safe to back away.

"Gee, that sure was clever sir. But what's to prevent them from
coming after later on?"

"Simple, I sent them a message asking them to clarify 'TermCap'.
That should tie them up for years."

*********************************************

Chapter 3

Captain's Log-33-24-33 : It's been 2 days since our escape from
the ANSI police, our uniqueness still intact. Jimm just
downloaded the latest demo-reel from ReallyNewTek, and is looking
at their Candied Ham mode. Kodiak just called up Domino's Pizza
to test out their 30 minute delivery promise. Piechart feels that
we should be nearing the lair of the GURU Real Soon Now. . .

"Blat, blat, blat" sounded the alarms, following the StarChip
alarm bell definition document precisely for when a ship enters
regions of a particularly high danger flux.

"Captain! We're headed towards the great Word Boundry!"

Up ahead the crew made out the wreckage of many of previous
craft, long since vanished. There was the USS Aegis, the StarChip
Infinity, and even the fabled NCC-MicroForge, all scattered about
in this, the StarChip graveyard. All ships which had sought to
taste the fruits of the GURU, yet lost to the foolishness of
others.

Dale took his seat, "Standby gentlemen, we'll get through this.
Ok, set the relocation bits, activate GOMF, and prepare to
execute a JSR at my call. . ."

The crew broke out the byte-padding and strapped it on. The ship
lurched forward as it crossed the Word Boundry, but up ahead was
a Page Fault, followed by corrupted address Space and dangling
file-descriptors. 

"Let's detach our process and reallocate ourselves to free-disk
space. . ."

The EnterBoing was now shaking unmercifully as it plummetted down
through and endless nodelist, jumping helplessly from one pointer
to the next. 

"Hoollllllldddddd onnnnnnnnnn!" shouted Dale, barely audible
amidst the confusion and spectacular sound effects. 

The passed through layer after layer of hidden rastports,
followed by undocumented registers. Just when the violent
oscillations threatened to unstructure their code, they were cast
out onto the other side of the great barrier and sailed on into a
free memory pool.

In the distance ahead was their quarry, the great Mother Board.
Golden in appearance, spinning ever so gracefully, it bore the
marks of true enlightenment. The EnterBoing was mysteriously
nudged over to a DMA channel, where it was linked up and
redirected towards their goal.

Our heros got up, dusted themselves off.

"Boy, that really flushed our buffers, captain" stated Kodiak as
he interlaced his shoes.

"What are our mouse coordinates? I can't find our location on the
keymap", asked Kodiak.

"I believe gentlemen, that over there we shall find the GURU
himself" replied the Baron. He took his position standing in
front of the bridge, hands clasped behind his back. An erie light
bathed the bridge as they approached their target.

Dale spoke up, "Shall we make an autorequest to see him?"

"No, that won't be necessary, I've already sent him an IDCMP
message. 

EnterBoing stopped at the steps leading to RoboCity. And faster
then you could say "hello world", Dale and Co. were swapped out
only to find themselves taken to the front of an ornate
structure. Tall stately columns framed a long stairway. Standing
at the execbase of the singlesteps was a wise old man.

"Hey, you look just like Jay Miner!" exclaimed Dave.

"Maybee that's because I am Jay Miner"

"So you're the GURU, we should've known. . ."

The crew feel to their knees. Bowing their heads in deep
appreciation they chanted various error codes.

"Get up you chowderheads! I'm not the one you're looking for.
I've just come to take you to him however. . .". Jay turned
around, motioned them to follow him as he slowly made his way up
the steps through the massive doors and into what appeared to be
a stately sanctuary.

In the center was an ancient 3 1/2" disk resting on a marble
pedestal underneath a crystalline dome. Kodiak bent down for a
closer look. He glanced back at the others, "Fred Fish #1" he
whispered.

Jan again motioned at them, "The guru is anxious to meet you."

They came up to a second set of doors, all black and quite
closed. "Doors, open" Jay commanded them. Looking back at the
crew he commented "Object oriented doors, you have to ask them to
open themselves". 

The gang wandered through the entrypoint into a long, narrow
corridor. Directly ahead two guards stood, ready to block any
I/O. Jay faced them, held up his left hand and said the secret
password "Hi Toro". The guards stepped aside and the doors slowly
swung open.

Hesitantly the crew stepped into yet a larger room even more
glorious than before. The sounds of an angelic choir where softly
playing in the background. Colorful silks hung down from the
ceiling and separated at the bottom draping themselves loosely to
either side of a simple throne inlaid with Digiview gold. The
crew's eyes were quickly drawn to that throne.

"Of course, how could we have not known" Leo whispered
reverently. Dale approached the figure sitting in the chair,
"You? You're the GURU????" he said with somewhat less reverence.
For on the throne they saw. . .

[ABEND error code $4ff76]

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Can you guess the GURU? Do you really give a damn? Well if you
can and if you do, let me know just who you think this GURU guy
really is, okay? The first one to guess thanks from me, mention
in the next episode of AmigaTrek (if there is one) and a free
trip for two to Disneyland. No, just kidding, hah, hah. However I
will give him (or her) a free copy of my wonderful program no
right-thinking Amiga owner or red-blooded patriotic American
should be without, >>>Distant Suns<<<. The contest will end
somewhere around mid-March (to ensure everyone gets a chance).
Only one guess allowed per person or alien life form. USENET
types, just email me your response, those without net access can
send your answer to Mike Smithwick, 25215 La Loma Drive, Los
Altos Hills, CA  94022. 


----------------------------------------------------
Please feel free to post this on other BBSs and to print in user
group newsletters as long as the above is kept intact. Also, if
printed in a newsletter, please send me a copy.

                                                      *** mike smithwick ***

"Never trust a surgeon with shaving cuts. . ."
[disclaimer : nope, I don't work for NASA, I take full blame for my ideas]