Half-eaten Apple

Half-eaten Apple
By
Raman Jalota

    "What is this? Why do the petals go one way first and then another way? Why
…why .. why?"
    Alan stood staring at the lone daisy growing in the hockey field while leaning on his hockey stick, the rest of the boys were busy around the goal trying to score or just hit the hockey ball out of the D, depending on which side they were on. He knelt down and stared at the kaleidoscope of yellow petals growing clockwise and counterclockwise. He started to count the patterns. Someone yelled at him and broke his thought process. He shook his head and joined the other boys. The game ended shortly thereafter and as he walked home with some of the boys he dug into his school bag and took out the half-eaten sandwich, looked at it and cringed his nose. He threw it away towards the edge of the road behind a horse buggy clopping down the London Street. He put his hand back in the school bag and found the apple. He rubbed it on his white shirt, part of the white and blue uniform of his school, and took a bite out of it.
    As he stepped past the gate and onto the sidewalk, he froze. He stared at the shovel, the rake, the scissors and other tools lying on the lawn as his father worked the flowerbed. "Why must we use different tools for different tasks? What if there was one tool capable of doing every task involved … a machine that did an extremely simple task like pushing a pointed finger down or sideways. Then depending on the task, it could rake the dirt or loosen the dirt or clip a twig or …"
He stubbed his toe on the step near the front door and fell; he rolled and brought his hands out to lessen the impact of his fall. There was a thud and his mother came running out. She saw Alan lying face down, an apple with a bite taken out of it, lying by his side. She didn't see any blood but screamed, knowing something terrible must have happened.

…..

    "What if? … yes if we could decipher a few words then using a simple algorithm like this …" Alan scribbled furiously.
    " But the Nazis have changed the code suddenly. How can we …"
    "Well you have my algorithm that I developed from studying the enigma."
    "Yes and it worked perfectly till today. But now …"
    Alan raised his eyebrows and raised his hand, "OK. Here I will show you in even more detail …"
    "Ah, but where can we get the initial decipher from?"
    "That should be easy … our friends the Poles."
    "Of course."
    "Now where was I? What if we used the Universal Turing machine for every thing? The simplest task is laid out in the algorithm, then depending on the task the 'main brain' chooses how the algorithm is performed and how many times to get the desired function performed to which parts of the data. In almost the same fashion as the brain functions. What if? …. "
    Alan reached over into his desk at the MI5 headquarters and took an apple out. He took a bite out of it and stared at The Colossus almost ready for D-day. It looked almost like a Frankenstein creation, large, unwieldy and ugly. The one word that summed it best - ugly. As he bit into the apple, an assistant brought him rows of paper tape - the first result of the testing of The Colossus. Methodically, almost painfully slowly, Alan started checking the accuracy of the design of his machine, absolutely sure that it will assure victory for the allied forces come D-day.

…..

    The director of the British secret service got up from his chair and picked up the tape just delivered to him. He put it in his briefcase and locked the briefcase. He signed the delivery receipt and watched as the naval courier left his office. He immediately walked out of his office and down the corridor to the stairwell. He went down the three floors to the decoding offices or as they all called it "The Factory." He walked and looked inside Alan's office, he wasn't there. He walked briskly to the top secured area two doors down from Alan's office and knocked.
    He was let in and he walked gingerly over and around wires strewn over the floor to where Alan was furiously scribbling notes and following wires and connectors on the monstrosity they called "The Colossus."
    "Alan, I have just received a tape of German messages from the naval yards. Are you ready to try out The Colossus?"
    "Absolutely sir, let's give it a go."
    Alan took the tape and motioned for one of the assistants to mount it on one end of the table next to the colossus. The assistant threaded the tape and nodded.
    "OK, start my machine."
    The director smiled, it truly was Alan's machine. He had conceived of it, designed all the components of it, supervised the assembly and had even wired parts of it. If anyone could call it "mine" it was Alan.
    The Colossus started making small noises as the audio tape started rolling and parts of machines started moving. It was bizarre; lights were blinking, rollers were moving back and forth and paper tapes were being produced. Alan grabbed one of them and started reading it intently. He tore most of the tape off and handed it to the director, "Does any of it make sense? To me it all sounds logical and valid but I do not know the names and locations of the areas being discussed."
    The director studied the tape, "Yes it does sound relevant to me. Can I expect a full report later tonight?"
    Alan smiled a little, "We have used part of the Polish interceptions for the initial setup and it seems to be working. I will stay here till the whole tape is decoded and compile the report for you."
    The excitement on the director's face was unmistakable. "I just can't wait. Have a courier summon me when the report is ready. Wake me up if it's late. And thank you, lan."
    Alan casually nodded and moved towards one of the assistants who had been trying to get his attention. As he walked he started reading the half-torn paper tape that had been deciphered so far and smiled.

…..

    "What if? …… " Alan scribbled furiously.
     "Yes, … there's a central area where all the interlinking and computations can be done within split seconds as and when needed, the data doesn't reside here but is brought here in small chunks for manipulation … Where the hell does the data reside then? …. What if the data resided on a media that could be accessed for immediate transportation to the central area? … How would the system choose the chunk of data to be extracted for computations?   What if the operator or the system or a pre-defined set of rules could determine which chunk of data to select? Yes …. It could work … it could be done.    "He reached over to the fruit bowl on the dining table and picked an apple. Dark red, almost maroon, the apple was more pear shaped than round. The narrow part had multiple ridges … "What did they represent?   Did apples with ridges taste better?"        He studied the apple for a while, his eyes narrowed in concentration and then suddenly he smiled.
    "Who am I, Newton? I should just eat the damn thing." He took a bite and felt the juice flow down the side of the apple and his lips. He sucked it in as his taste buds responded. He looked at the notebook in which he had been scribbling and drawing strange diagrams. He picked up his pencil and started drawing another scheme.

…..

    Alan looked at the Times article and his head started spinning. All these men in Denmark! It would be great if … What if I could get some introductions and go to Denmark and meet these handsome men? … and what if? … and maybe I could meet some men in these men only dance clubs … what if? …
    His mother looked at him as he ate his breakfast. "Alan Dear. You seem to be thinking of something devious again. What's up?"
    "Oh Mom. Nothing, I was just thinking of maybe taking a vacation to Denmark or Sweden in March."
    "Why, what's there?"
    "Oh, I may have some friends there."
    His mother understood and sighed. She poured some more tea in his cup and pushed the milk towards him.
    Alan called Jeffry as soon as he got to his desk, "Jeff man, Alan here. Did you see that article in the Times?"
    "Of course, pretty neat huh?"
    "I want to go there and meet some of these men, they seem pretty liberal over there. Not like bloody England. Do you know anyone there?"
    "No I don't, but I can sure find out from some of my other friends. Someone's bound to know someone."

…..

    Winston Churchill shook hands with "C" and then stood next to him sipping from his cup of tea. "You chaps are good. The allied forces would have lost miserably if you had not broken the code."
    "The Colossus did it. Or more accurately Alan Turing did it."
    "Yes, I have heard his name before. A most remarkable chap I hear. Someday I must meet him and shake his hand. The free world owes him a thank you."
    "I would be delighted to convey your comments to him, Sir."
    "Do you know him personally? What sort of a chap is he? A bloody genius, I think."
    "Well sir, he is a great asset to MI5. And as you said, he is a genius. "
    "Send me some notes on him. We should have Her Majesty bestow a knighthood on him or something."

…..

    It was raining as 'C' looked out his office window at the dreary London landscape. "I wonder if Alan will get a knighthood. Maybe a big purse? Maybe a mention in Her Majesty's speech? Maybe …"
    The secret Police squad car parked on the street and two men walked into the building. They went to the office of Alan Turing and knocked on his door. Alan opened the door expecting to receive another military problem for him to solve. "Yes, what can I do for you?"
    "Sir, you are Alan Turing, right?"
    The tone in the officer's voice sent chills down his spine, "Yes?"
    "I am sorry, Sir, but I have to place you under arrest."
    "Surely, you must be wrong … why?"
    He glanced at the men who were milling outside his office and whispered, "For your sake sir, let's leave the office and I will tell you the charges in the squad car."
    As Alan was being led by the two officers, "C" came walking down the hall. He understood there was something terribly wrong by the way Alan was being led away. He called the Home Secretary immediately. "Alan Turing, our most brilliant scientist was just led away by the secret police. I demand to know what's up?"
    "Calm down, it's just that his security clearance has been cancelled …"
    "What bloody nonsense … why?"
    "He is queer … did you know? Can't have any of them in the bloody MI5, you know."
    "What the hell?"

…..

    Alan lay on the examination table as the nurse slowly injected the last dose of Oestrogen in his buttocks. "What if … I didn't have to have these to slow down my libido … what if men could love men openly? … what if a society accepted men and women for what they were and didn't force its views on them? … No this society, just like others, is a fucking bitch … it won't let people live in peace … peace .. what if peace ruled the earth instead of war and the monsters who thrive and preach war and nothing but war? … did I mistakenly help end one war for several hundred others? … what if? …
    He walked into the MI5 offices and the guard smiled and let him in. "How do Mr. Turing."
    He nodded and walked into his old office and sat down in front of the latest incorporation of his machine - the Manchester Computer. He fiddled with some of the diodes and started a series of tests. He pulled out his notes from the previous weeks and started reading them.
    "C" walked into his office and shook hands with him, "How are you doing, Alan?"
    "Thanks Alex, I feel much better working here in my old office designing the ultimate Turing machine. I can't thank you enough for bringing me back in."
    "Never mind that. Now that I am the director I can do a few things, but please keep your personal life and its details as quiet as possible."
    "You can count on me, Alex."

…..

    "What use is this? … I have been working for MI5 for almost a year fighting the same bureaucracy, trying to fix the same machine … is it worth it?"
    He took a watering jug and watered the plants in his home nursery. He cut a fresh daisy and affixed a thin slice of it on a slide and pushed it under the microscope. The night progressed slowly as his mind alternated clockwise and counterclockwise like the patterns on the daisy.
    The house cleaner found him when she came into his room in the morning. She screamed. Alan's mother came running into his room. She saw Alan lying face down, an apple with a bite taken out of it, lying by his side. She didn't see any blood but screamed, knowing something terrible must have happened.
    When the doctors told her, she felt she knew that he had accidentally ingested cyanide from his fingers after an amateur chemistry experiment … little did she know that Alan had gone through another series of whirlwind what ifs and had successfully contrived his death in such a way as to allow her alone to believe this.

…..

    Steve Jobs smiled with pride. "Today we have finished designing the first fully functional, fully contained computer, what should we name it?"
    Steve Wozniak wiped the sweat from his forehead and took an apple out of his desk and bit into it. Steve Jobs' face broke into a wide mischievous grin, "What if we name our computer Apple and use a half-eaten apple for the logo?"
    "No one will ever know."

The End           2461 words

Copyright © 2004 Raman Jalota. All rights reserved. No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.

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