Hilbert 2.0

I recently entered a writing contest.  The rules were to write a science related story in no more than 350 words.  I didn't win.  However, you can read the story here!

Hilbert 2.0

‘Drop it.’

‘Grrrrr’

‘I said “drop it.”’

‘GRRRRR’

Whack.

Thunk.

My anachronistic, resource squandering, tree killing insistence on receiving New Scientist in hardcopy comes in handy as Mini drops the remote control.

Mini, aka, Hilbert 2.0, is my dog.  Hilbert, my previous dog, died last March.  When Hilbert died I went into a depression, locking myself in my room, reading years of archived stories on NewScientist.com. 

I studied every article I could find on cloning.  Finally realizing that a cloned version of Hilbert would neither look nor act exactly the same as the original, I decided the world would be better if I adopted a shelter dog.

But then I hit upon robotics and artificial intelligence.  Hundreds of e-mails later, from every continent, with lots of help from Google Translate, I had a workable plan.

I bartered for a wireless router; a set of speakers; a heating pad; miscellaneous electronic bits and a Commodore 64.  For this I gave up my collection of Philip K. Dick hardbacks -- not a problem because I have them all on my Kindle.  I added to the haul some fabric and a roll of duct tape.   Then I set to work.

After eight days straight living on coffee and soldering fumes, I loaded the neural network into my new Hilbert.  Due to some conversion problems (damn metric system!) I ended up with a dog two-thirds the size of Hilbert. Hence, the nickname Mini.  That was six months ago.

Apart from size, Mini is Hilbert, including his chaotic, random number, decision tree powered brain.  If it runs, chase it; if not, eat it.  The only other difference is house-training; I deliberately omitted that.

Tired and sweaty from running after Mini, I go up to soak in a warm bath.  I grab a dead tree edition of New Scientist off the back of the toilet.  At least it won’t short circuit if I drop it in the tub, unlike my Kindle.

‘No, Mini, down.  NO!’

Splash.

Sigh.  Time to visit the animal shelter.   

Shoebert putting the back issues of

 New Scientist to use the rat terrier way

BTW, don't let the story mislead you.  I would never hit Mini or any of my dogs with a rolled up Magazine.