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Credits

Ten thousand years of Roboshrub.

Fangs for the memories.




In today’s state, Roboshrub Incorporated is an entity entirely devoted
to the execution of what normal people would refer to as “bad ideas.”

It was the creator’s original idea that all concepts, whether
useful or not, contribute to the global subconscious level of progress
for the human race. Therefore, we contend that no idea is an unfit
idea, and vow to act on each and every one of them.

Roboshrub Inc.
Public Communications Department






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For your insolence, I condemn you to...

Suffer the Fate of a Thousand Bees!
(Before they go extinct)

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6.27.2005

The Passion of the Roboshrub

Vince was sure his mom would be upset. He knew he should never have spent the last few days talking over the Internet to destructobob. His mother had always warned him not to talk to people with an assumed alias, but Vince had ignored her and now was paying the price. As the military police handcuffed him and led him to the federal penitentiary that would forever be his home, he wondered how it had come to this...

***

It was an unassuming summer day. The sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky. But a precocious Vincent O'Neil was completely unaware of the current weather. The 400 pound, 6 foot 4 inch tall middle schooler had spent the entire day glued to his T.V. screen, and was now getting up to get some more junk food. He was just about to go to the kitchen when he heard a beeping noise coming from his room. Intrigued by the sound, young Vincent ran as quickly as his 50 pound legs could carry him to the source of the disturbance.

The chicken is in the oven, but I'm out of toothpaste...” read the monitor. What is this? thought Vince as he sat down. “Good morning, Vince.” suddenly showed up on the screen in big bold letters. “Who are you?” Vince typed fearfully into the browser window that had spontaneously opened. “I am no one. And everyone.” came the reply. “for I am destructobob.” Destructobob? “That sounds made up. Tell me your real name.” wrote Vince, clearly alarmed that someone could simply break into his computer and make extremely vague conversation. “I want world peace. I want a flying car, and immortality. And in a way I already have all of those things. But what I really want is your help.” My help? “What do you me-” Just then, the window abruptly closed and the screen flashed. Five seconds later, a diagram was displayed on the screen. It was full of circuits and complicated electrical jargon. Build it. said a voice inside Vince's head. “Who's there?!” cried Vince, swinging around wildly. Build it. It will be magnificent when it's finished.

***

The days passed quickly. Each morning, Vince would wake up, eat six waffles with a gallon of syrup, and then work on building... it until late at night. He frequently lost sleep, and every time he tried to stop building completely, his computer would start beeping and he would get an angry message from destructobob. Finally, he just gave up and consigned himself to his fate. After about six weeks, he began to realize that his whole summer vacation would be gone soon... but the device would be ready long before that. It was more than halfway completed. All it needed was- Oh, no... thought Vince as he looked at the bottom of the diagram. This thing is powered by plutonium?!? Where am I going to find that?!? Just then a new window opened, revealing a map to a nuclear power plant. “No, no, no. I can't get in there!” said Vince to no one in particular. Just then an electric surge fired out of his computer, narrowly missing him. “Okay, okay! I'll do it!” screamed Vince as he hit the print button and ran to get his shoes.

***

That was easier than I thought it would be,” remarked Vince as he walked through the doorway into his house. “I can't believe all I had to do was say that I worked there, and they let me...” Vince stopped cold in his tracks. Two nondescript men in dark brown suits were sitting at his dinner table with his mother. They instantly looked at him, as if they could see into his very soul. “Vincent, these men work for the F.B.I. and they have a few questions for you.” Gulp, thought Vince, this is it. No, I can't let them stop me! I've worked too hard to leave the device unfinished! “You can't stop me!” bellowed Vince as he ran past the men into his room, where he locked the door. “Vincent, under the authority of the United States government, we demand that you open this door!” said one of the men as they both pounded on his bedroom door. “Do you hear us Vincent?! Open this door!”

But Vince wasn't listening to them. He was looking at the device, the beautiful, beautiful device. He had no idea what it would do but now that he had the plutonium, he could, at long last, unlock the secrets of it. The men broke the door down as he slid in the plutonium cartridge. The device started to whir, and Vince covered his eyes as a blinding flash of light streamed out of it. Then the device rolled over, spun, and then with a popping sound, jumped threw the window, shattering it and causing bits of glass to fly everywhere. Vince quickly looked out the window at the ground, trying to see if it was undamaged. Phew! thought Vince as he saw that it had fallen onto a bush and was still in one piece. But something was odd... it was changing... the device seemed to be merging with the plant! A split-second later, the bush pulled its own roots out of the ground and ran away! Vince turned around to run outside after it, but quickly noticed two federal agents standing in his way. “Vincent O'Neil, you are under arrest.” said one of them. Vince glanced out the broken window, but the device was long gone, along with the plutonium.

***

It is done. “What?!?” squealed Vince, springing up in his prison bunk. “Who's there?!” I don't need to tell you; you already know. “Destructobob. I knew you would get me out of here!” Oh, no. I can't get you out of prison. “What? But I built that- that thing you wanted me to! Why can't-” You did all that I intended you to do. Now you are irrelevant. Upon hearing that, Vince's heart sank like a stone. “Well, why would you make me make something that would get me arrested?!” There was no other option. The Roboshrub led to the creation of the destructobob. And now the destructobob had facilitated the construction of the Roboshrub. It is a temporal paradox. “But- wait, what's a 'Roboshrub'?” It is above you. Looking up through the barred window of his cell, Vince saw the device! It was still bonded to the plant that was beneath his window. And it was pointing a laser beam directly at his face.


Beware the Roboshrub!

Processing 8×100 Robo-Comments:

Blogger Roboshrub Incorporated gesticulated...

I am beginning to suspect that you have FAR too much free time.

6/27/2005 10:42 PM  
Blogger Gyrobo gesticulated...

What, no literary critique? I thought destructobob was a compelling antagonist. I also found a use for that old avatar of yours. When did you make that thing, anyway?

6/27/2005 10:57 PM  
Blogger Roboshrub Incorporated gesticulated...

I made it when we first booted it up.
I should try making a better one.

6/27/2005 11:28 PM  
Blogger Roboshrub Incorporated gesticulated...

There! It is ten thousand times more better than half of how sucky it was before!

6/27/2005 11:52 PM  
Blogger Gyrobo gesticulated...

Nice. Oh, and in case you didn't notice it, I downloaded the image you made, optimized it, and loaded it back onto the Internet. The new picture if a GIF, and is a fourth the size it was before. And with better quality!

6/28/2005 12:44 AM  
Blogger Roboshrub Incorporated gesticulated...

WOAH.
Yet... I notice no difference.

Perhaps my eyes be untrained.

6/28/2005 12:59 PM  
Blogger Gyrobo gesticulated...

It takes many years of practice and an unhealthy amount of free time to notice irrelevant things.

6/28/2005 3:40 PM  
Blogger Roboshrub Incorporated gesticulated...

That's what Reagan said, but he's dead now, too.

6/30/2005 11:44 PM