both and at the same number. Only an IP-address is in the format 123.123.123.123, but
the digits will of course vary.
So it could be a double IP address. Then the computer wouldn’t be able to connect to
the network anymore. Lexi chose the Start - Run command and typed ‘cmd’ there to
open a DOS Window.
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At the command prompt C:\ there she typed:
Ping 123.123.255.1 where 123.123.255.1 was the IP Address of their Gateway server.
‘Request timed out’ answered the programme, playing dumb.
A double IP-address, obviously. Sven gave the PC a new one. Sven and Lexi had to
keep painful tables, in order not to allocate doubloons. Recently ITPOL had finally
come to introduce the more modern system, DHCP, for Dynamic Host Configuration
Protocol. But of course the system wasn’t ready yet. ITPOL liked to take his time. And
to make Sven and Lexi run around.
I have no Email!
Again, this often meant the PC was not connected to the network. No network
connection no Email. The culprit was a table. The table stood on the network cable,
crushing it. Maybe the cleaning lady had put there. Sven removed the table from the
cable and the network jumped into life again.
One other case was that the network cable was placed next to a door, and every visitor
entering knocked it off its socket. Ingrid, the caller, looked at Sven helplessly: “I have called Network Administration now a dozen times already, it has been weeks, but still
no one has come.” Sven made a mental note to do the same thing again when he came
back to his office. Damn Mrko Mrnsk...
Was nothing being mended anymore in this place? It was so nerve racking.
Lexi found herself in a rather awkward situation, due to the fact she had to spend her
time crawling on the floor or on the tables or wherever else it was possible to crawl or to climb on. That’s why the CHD never wore dresses. Today she wore tight white jeans
from Versace, a T-Shirt from ‘Les Copains’ and lilac tennis shoes. She had been called
to the office of a CLA, Igor Bibr. When she entered the office he was not present. It
was typical for users to wander off once they had called. The network again was
supposed not to be working and she went to have a look at the back of the computer.
Unfortunately it was placed in such a way that she had to climb on the table. Looking
at the back of it put her in such a position that she was showing hers, face hidden by
the screen.
Igor Bibr of course then entered his office. He was quite friendly, and they talked for a while, Lexi a bit panting because of her position. He then left her working and she
could continue her inspection. She finally realised the network cable was at fault and
went to exchange it.
Some time later she got a phone call from Karel Adler, their C.L.A encore above
Arthur. Karel asked her if she knew Igor Bibr? Lexi nodded behind her phone.
“He called me because he wanted to know who you are. He found you utterly efficient
and so much charming.”
Lexi thanked Karel for this information and felt very much relieved she hadn’t been
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wearing a mini skirt. Igor Bibr, during their little talk, had not seen her face once ...
That’s really why female CHD never wear skirts or dresses. She hoped Igor Bibr
wouldn’t go and tell the other CLA’s about this, she might be asked to climb on the
tables even more (or crawl under them).
Sound not working
Sound cards were on strike too, and Sven had to replace one after the
other, and it took some time opening a PC, replacing the sound card,
and closing the PC again.
The major reason for sound not working was fortunately that the sound
was just put on ‘mute’ in the windows configuration of the House.
Sven send one Email after the other:
“Choose ‘Start - Programmes - Accessories - Entertainment - Volume
Control’’ and deselect the mute option in Volume Control”
“Big kisses Sven!” one female user answered and even sent him a song. ”Kiss Me!” by
SixPence. Of course listening to music was not part of their job, but it could help relax.
And they all needed that.
Nimrod, a good-looking and very young guy whom Gwendoline, Hilde, Lexi and
Lut seemed to like a lot, but which Sven couldn’t stand in the same fashion, called him
because he couldn’t run a movie strip direct on the Internet. “Why doesn’t it work
Sven?”
“Because if everyone was loading their movies life on Internet it would take up much
too much broadband and people would have to wait too long to load serious web
pages.” Sven said disapprovingly. ”Only the press people from MOU XVIII may have
it.”
“So how do I do it then?”
Sven left the office. This guy was a pirate and only wanted to listen to some music
samples on Amazon or worse vision dirty movies. A bit later, he passed the office
again and saw Gwendoline and Nimrod bent together over the monitor and laughing.
Traitor!
“Try to download the movie by saving it to disk. Right-click on the movie link. Then
choose ‘Save target as,” said Gwendoline sweetly.
“You see Broadband,” she said, “is a wide band of frequencies transmitting
information. Viewing such movies directly on Internet takes up a lot of broadband, and
then the whole Intranet of the House might get slower.”
Sven could now hear some life explanation about the Human Genome Programme to
which Gwendoline and the Nimrod listened eagerly. But Sven was sure Nimrod was a
pirate nonetheless. Nimrod on his side decided he wouldn’t call Sven again but only
Gwendoline.
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Digital camera
Dino Gatto called because he needed some pictures transferred from his digital camera
to his PC: “A summit about Nanofluidic transistors in Naples,” he explained. “I just
don’t know how to do it.”
Lexi plugged one end of the cable that had come with the camera
in the camera, the other one in the USB Universal Serial Bus - slot
of the PC. The plug-and-play interface thought for a while and then
opened a dialog box with a series of options. Lexi chose ‘Transfer
to the My Pictures folder’ and soon the pictures were flying over
from the camera to the PC. Dino opened the My Pictures folder with the impatience of
a child, and Lexi helped him further by choosing ‘View – Filmstrip’’.
One could now see a birthday cake, children playing and Dino and other adults having
Prosecco on a terrace with a view on beautiful soft coloured houses along a blue sea.
Dino presented her with an Italian cake then, Pasticiotti chocolates, which she kindly
refused.
USB-FlashDisk
Richard called, and seemed a bit ill at ease:
“Lexi, I don’t think you can do this via this Remote Control System of yours, could
you come by?”
Lexi came, good-willed; Richard was fun, a real story-teller.
“My CLD (see Glossary) has given me his Hm how is it called
FlashDisk? USB disk, and asked me to transfer the files to his PC.
It contains 63 recordings in Hm - I believe it is called MP3 format
about our last meeting about fighting industrial CO2 with algae.”
Lexi helped him plug the little USB disk in the USB slot of his PC.
The hardware was promptly recognised and the programme
suggested an immediate transfer to ‘My E-Books’ of the PC.
Lexi however now preferred to click on ‘My Computer’ and opened
the ‘E: Drive’ which had been assigned to the FlashDisk.
She chose ‘Edit-Select All’ and then Copy, went to ‘My E-
books’ and chose Paste. They then watched the 63 little MP3
files flying from the E: drive to the E-books folder.
“This was so easy that it’s like magic,’ said Joseph. “Thank you so much. And all those
files on this cute little thing! My vendor told me that this little thing can take the
equivalent of 500 diskettes!”
When she had turned the corner of the corridor she could hear a man’s voice beginning
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to read:
“The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive. Harry…”
Lexi turned back on her heals. She had been looking for this for days now.
Joseph looked up guiltily when she stuck her head in again. “I want this for my
godchild,” he explained. “I just wanted to check if it was really working.”
“No need to explain,” said Lexi with a stern face, “but can I borrow your FlashDisk?
I’ll bring it back in a minute. I have a godchild too.”
The CHD never refused to answer a personal request, because it were those that taught
the users most about computers, because they were interesting.
Joseph handed the FlashDisk over to her, together with a packet of Mint chocolates.
At this rate, she would soon weigh a ton herself. Not that she had weight problems,
with all this running around it couldn’t happen anyway; but she felt if this continued,
she would go bust. She felt kaput. Lexi was so exhausted that she didn’t even have the
strength left to talk about it. She felt like a Hydra, with hundred heads. One talking on the phone, a second and third to a user plus one to a colleague permanently stationed in her office, a fourth looking at the second line blinking on her phone, three more to look at the three new Emails popping up on her screen. All her heads taken up already to do
something and then none left to eat one of those users. Did someone really think she
had so many brains? She admired Sven, the most intelligent man in the House: He only
had one. Or none.
She began to pity the computers themselves. They only had one CPU - Central
Processing Unit. CPU is the central unit in a computer containing the logic circuitry that performs the instructions of a computer's programs. It cannot but process one
instruction at the time too. If it has more, it will break up the tasks into little bits, do a little bit here, a little bit there. As Lexi felt now, that hurt. Poor computers. It was not a joke, she was doing it all the time, and it hurt.
Multitasking lets a user perform more than one task at the time, like when the user opens Excel and his Internet browser at the same time. Multithreading lets a computer manage more than one user at a time and to even handle multiple requests by the same
user. Somehow this made people believe people could do this too. But they were
HUMANS! However could they handle all this multitasking and multithreading without
going crazy? But then they sometimes did, and crashed. Doctor Watson had to come;
there had been a clash of interests. An IRQ conflict or worse. They became psychotic.
Would this happen to CHD too? They were all close to a sixteen hour day. Maybe
people really believed they were computers. Machines. An object where you pressed
the button and the results would flow out, like on a USB disk. They had gotten too
much used to the idea. It was magical thinking come true. But maybe it was Black
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Magic?
On this sombre thought Lexi and Sven went to have a coffee at the Pink Bar, which
was not too far away.
She met Monica on the way there. To the ‘How are you question’ one never got the
requested answer anymore. Anja just rolled her eyes at Lexi:
“Why does the House insist on giving us all those new programmes! The moment we
know them, they change. One never knows what to do anymore. No one knows how
they are working, everyone says something different, and nothing is right. And how are
you?”
Lexi just rolled her eyes and Monica laughed, understanding.
On their way back, they crossed Leo and Gwen going for a coffee too.
Gwendoline was just back from her coffee when she heard Johanna open the door,
quicker than usual and run over the floor, calling after Leo, who was obviously
wandering around there:
“Leo! Have you heard?!”
There was anguish in her step and voice. Gwendoline, with her sixth sense, felt
immediately that something was very wrong. The news that had just come was already
all over Bohatia, and would probably soon go all over the world, via news websites,
radio, TV. No, Leo hadn’t heard, nor had the rest of CHD; they had just too much work
to hear anything else than user calls. But Johanna had been informed her husband, who
had some time left for headlines.
A plane with several of the House's and also the MOU’s CLA’s and CLD’s had simply
vanished from the face of first the skies, than of the earth. The situation was to get
more intricate than it already was. Someone had obviously thrown a hex at the MOU.
Or was there some sombre plan to eliminate management or even the House itself?
More than 10 CLA’s gone? Who could replace all of them in a short time? Who could
train their successor? Even if Sven said with some malice that one wouldn't notice the
difference.
Icons and text too small
“Lexi, my icons are all so small, and the text. I can’t see a thing.”
“That’s the screen settings
Right-click On an empty place of the Desktop (not on an icon)
Choose Properties
In the Display Properties Windows choose the Settings Tab
Beneath “Desktop Area” grab the icon beneath Less and More
and change it to for instance 800 x 600
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“Thanks, that is much better! It seems specific to you
computer people, to have text and icons so tiny that
no normal human being can see them. You computer
people seem to have a magnifier in both your eyes.”
Lexi wondered on her side why it was that HER screen
did not have the settings she wanted, but she just never found the time to set it right.
The cobbler's children go barefoot. They didn’t care about a problem until a user
mentioned it to them. CHD was just sort of happy to survive, and not to demanding as
what regarded themselves.
A good informatician is lazy. He will do the least possible, and first of all for himself.
Why do anything, when you can have it ready-made?!
And all those cables
On the back of the PC, read the circles content from left to right:
Mouse and Keyboard cable
Printer Cable (the ‘LPT1’ socket)
Screen Cable
2 USB Ports, and the Network cable
Power - Electricity cable
What a day it had been! Lexi left on her knees, shortly after followed by Sven, leaving
Maurice all alone. He got one last call from Mr Thomas, Thelma’s CLA or boss. He
had tried to access his Email this morning and hadn’t managed too. He had then left for
a meeting and had come back only now. Maurice tried to make him check the network
cables, telling him a cleaning lady might have knocked the network cable off, but Mr
Thomas begged him to come, he was too old, and had begun using a PC only a few
weeks ago. Maurice, sighing, went over to the Koch building, of course using the
shortcut. He checked the network cable at the back of the PC and found it OK. Slightly
swearing, he then bent down and crawled beneath the table. And there, entangled in
cables and completely knocked out, lay the cleaning lady.
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Phantom users
Hilde had slept badly, again waking up at five with a trainee’s face towering over her,
asking for an EMail account.
She had spend the previous day again holding mice (mouse in plural) for a fresh arrival
of trainees, this time eleven, the unpaid ones. If they were unpaid, was it because they were even more dim? This one had broken the record. The Email was down again and
Hilde couldn’t give her a mailbox, but the trainee didn’t believe her and announced her
intention, tearfully but determined, to spend the whole day in her office, until Hilde had given her the mailbox. Hilde had to have her removed by Maurice and Sven. The girl
had had the guts to call back twice.
Hilde wished her to the limbos. But at least this trainee had a face and a name, a since early this morning a mailbox. At least this trainee existed and existence in flesh and
blood was becoming a rarity. Because most of the staff of MOU XII seemed to have
ceased to exist. People had left, people had not arrived yet, people were not to be
found, people were lost, their units, their offices, their phones changing all the time.
Nameless faces in empty non existing units had become their daily bread. An ordeal of
a very unusual kind. Like when you see spots dancing before your eyes when you are
tired. Pixels, as IT people would say. A dance of names within ever changing
boundaries.
Hilde suffered greatly, because she had to permanently re- and re-organise her user
databases. Remember the story with MOU X being split into MOU XI and XII and
MOU VII being split into two and being distributed over MOU XI and MOU XII? In
order to respond an ever growing and changing scientific world new departments and
units had been created, but their names where not decided upon yet, nor were their
exact delimitations. Moreover once one name had been decided upon it was bound to
change again the next day. Abbreviations followed the dance, and Hilde had to change
user groups and tables several times a week in the MOU XII part of the House’s Active
Directory. It was Chaos pure.
The confusion made that soon everyone was using different names for the same unit,
which made it a real guessing game to know of which unit another person was talking
about.
For instance there were the two main sub units 'Natural Sciences', and 'Human
Sciences. In the first were sub units like 'Biodiversity and Biological Safety', Bioethics, Microbiology, 'Ecosystems and Marine Biology', 'Genetics and Biological
Engineering'. The second contained sub units like Psychology and Psychoanalysis,
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Psychobiology, Neuroscience, Neuropsychology, Sociology. Well at one time maybe,
but only. The structures kept moving like quick sand.
Talk about converging sciences! Everything was mixing, mingling, marrying:
nanotechnology, biotechnology, neurosciences, information and communication
technology, cognitive and human sciences. You could cut those words in two and then
make just about any combination possible. This sure was a many splendored thing, but
for Hilde it sounded more like nanobioinfoscocioneurologysupercalifragilistic-
expialidocius.
Was there a way to foresee Chaos, like one can anticipate a tsunami, because a keen
observer can detect a peculiar kind of ring-shaped ripples on the sea, and then tell the others to run?
Hilde would get a request to create a new user in her AD for the workgroup:
'Ecosystems and Biodiversity', or in Molecular Biology, which was in none of her lists
yet. Or she would just get 'Neuro’ or ‘Bio' or 'Psy' or ‘Nano’ or ‘Macro’ or worse NS or HS which left her with more than one possibility. She never knew if the requester
really meant or knew was he was asking for. And when she enquired it was quite
obvious he didn't. Denominations and delimitations were changing all the time. One
week Genetics would get split from Biological Engineering, only to be joined again the
next. Or a Psycho-Biology workgroup was created, only to change its name to Bio-
Psychology a few days later. The responsible WG, first moved to Koch, was then
moved back to Curie again, with in the meantime, two persons gone in exchange of
another newcomer.
Adding those people to the security groups in her Active Directory database almost
made no sense anymore, the names would have changed and been recombined the day
that followed.
You can guess that it were probably not scientists who were deciding upon all that.
They were not so many scientists at the House. The House was only giving them
money. Not doing science itself mostly, only sometimes they did, but not at MOU XII.
But maybe they did Science Fiction, if you would believe some bad tongues. But the
House revered Science, and everything turned around the 112 ‘real’ Scientists which
were representing its name in the Outside world. Anyway, as you may have guessed,
calling it the House of Science is just another means of disguise.
Several times a day Hilde would find a man or woman suddenly standing in her office,
completely lost. He wanted a logon, an Email and an office, but had no idea in which
service he was to work. Neither had Hilde! She had to create temporary services with
dummy names, and put the user there. As well as make temporary shares. She called
them ‘Muta’ for mutation, she thought at first, but then she realised she must have
made a spelling mistake and that it had to be read ‘Mute’. Mute for not knowing, for
not saying, the silent state of those in the limbos.
It became more than a bit difficult to fill in her Active Directory user database with
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phantom names, if you remember what was already said about the AD like of for
instance on page 57. The principle, if tedious, was easy, but with those phantoms filling in AD Accounts had become a major challenge, if not a kind of trickery. And
combining the AD with the Email and real users became a matrix. Because one half of
them were changing all the time and the other half did not exist. They were no real
users any more, or so it appeared. It was really serious. Hilde had to create, rename and undo one ‘Security group’ in her Active directory after the other. It was nothing about
security anymore. A Security group had to have a name and to contain people but if
things were that much unsure and shifting, Security was too. By not knowing who was
who, everyone could end up having access to the General Director’s files.
On the other side, Lexi and Sven, who had to organise the moves of their PC’s got
quite lost in this state of things and with it the users got lost too.
Ex MOU VII people were the worst. They were never to be found. The offices which
sometimes wore their names had no occupant. Or they occupied an office with no name
on it. No one ever seemed to know much about their whereabouts. They never told
anyone beforehand where they might be going. Looking for them, one could only
wonder: were they on some foreign mission, on sick-leave, on a holiday, on a training
course, at some mystery meeting, having a coffee? Did they exist at all? Or were they
maybe having a party? No one dared investigate. The name of MOU VII had become
taboo. One could imagine them at a party indeed, invisible beings rattling their chains, chanting, boo - boo. One said ‘MOU VII’, one would disappear too. It was science
fiction pure.
Most of the CLA’s coming from that MOU had resigned, taken early retirement, or did
simply not appear again.
Penelope had said that even Josepha had been at loss; that is before she had
disappeared. She had been given the task to hire an army of phantoms to work in her
group of seven WG’s. She had tried, but when invited, they didn’t appear at their
interviews, and when they did, they said a lot of rubbish. The situation was so much
obscure that it seemed to get to their minds from the moment they had set foot in our
building. Josepha had felt helpless too. She was a very sound person, and did not