TIMPUTER

    "Timputer, I need you to run a full brain cavity search."

    "I've got this….you know just do your thing and find the problem."

He was in his lair.

On show at his work station was a red Dell notebook computer. Further to his left was another, a Toshiba laptop, expertly projecting the voice simulation of a computer being he had generated. It was the best innovation executed in a while, a computer generated image fed with human-like tendencies, making it partly a human oriented processor.

The gadget blinked insistently as if to digest the command that had been set forth. Meanwhile, the three dimension human simulation seemed calm, and then it burst into life.

"Self diagnosis procedures initiated."

"Diagnostic analysis encoding."

"Result analysis decoded ninety nine point nine percent accurate and counting."

Then its screen went blank.

Next to the computer lay a book, Pany's Chronicles, with numerous words scribbled carelessly in it.

Random processed results then instantaneously re-appeared on the computer screen again.

"What's your evaluation Timputer? And speak in English please."

"Perfectly normal tendencies but an anomaly in your thoughts detected."

"Feel free to expound on that genius."

Tim commanded as he grabbed an alcoholic beverage on lie at a piece of wood implied for furniture.

"Tim, I can sum up the diagnosis in two words."

"SERIOUS CRUSH."

The simulation projected making him spill his drink on that faded blue t-shirt that he had on.

"What do you mean a crush? Re-run brain activity diagnostics…. now."

"I already did that and triple checked of course, well, the results are all the same."

"Tim's got a girlfriend, Tim's got a girlfriend."

"Shut up before I feed you with a cat's IQ you mindful computer."

Consciously, he knew that the gadget had to be accurate in its prognosis. Lately, he was having one of those things, fantasies, or so he thought which in time and again just fizzles out, but not this one. This precise one had been lingering within him for a while now. And subtly with prove from this processor, it had to be undeniably true, uncharacteristic of his timid self in these preceding months.

He had long assumed immunity over such emotions; guess being human has its fair share of mystery an act he was experiencing currently.

"Tim and I have proof too. Hear log 673 and judge for yourself."

And the audio stream of the log started play.

 

THE INVASION

Taking over

Slowly you are taking over my mind

Making me believe that you are but a lovely mirage

But are you one really?

Because your virtual presence hovers all around me

 

Then suddenly I realize am not sleeping adequately

I try to sleep but I lay awake long enough to fight

To fight so hard not to dream let alone think of you

Only that am tragically disadvantaged

Since I can't determine what day and dreams to have

 

"Shut up Timputer, I know the contents of that log."

Channeling the drink to his mouth for another gulp, he let the drink bite into his taste buds for a moment too long, and then swallowed it in an instant.

"So, for how long and how did you know?"

"Since…since… you started acting sentimental, since you reverted to writing poems something you had long strayed from."

The exposé was fulfilling than the lurid attempt at concealing what indeed was plaguing his artistic mind. He felt relieved that at least someone knew, only in reality that someone was a mere extension of his creative imagination.

"Tim I think it's time you told her about it, or are you going to drink it off again."

"No, am not getting myself drunk over it again."

Tim genuinely returned.

"You know what Timputer, I have this very crazy and unintelligent idea."

"But it has serious consequential repercussions."

He deliberated as he drowned the last volume of the drink in a mouthful.