From: dpayton@qcinet.Gwinnett.COM (Doug Payton)
Subject: My Answer
Date: Wed, 18 Nov 1992 16:13:22 GMT
Organization: Quality Consultants, Inc.

I spent hours agonizing over a particularly long answer I gave to a
question some time ago, and I kinda hoped it would be Oracularitized,
but alas it was not.  (What's the typical length of time between when a
question is answered and (when chosen) it appears in the Oracularities?)

Anyway, here it is.  Perhaps it was too long, perhaps it didn't have
enough swearing, perhaps it wasn't R-rated; who knows why it didn't make
the digest.  Enjoy!

-----------------------------------------------

The Oracle has pondered your question deeply.
Your question was:

> 
> % whoami
> 

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} The mountain was higher and steeper than it looked, thought the weary
} supplicant as he climbed Mt. Oracle.  He'd brought enough provisions for
} the journey, except for an extra can of stamina.  But he had to reach
} the summit, so on he went.
} 
} It had been a long and winding path of circumstance and opportunity
} that had brought the supplicant to this point.  His wife, the
} understanding soul that she was, agreed to let him embark on this
} seemingly futile quest.  The legend of the Man of Knowledge that lived
} on Mt. Oracle was dismissed by most, but some, mostly the older
} inhabitants of the villages that surrounded the mountain, insisted that
} those fervently seeking an answer would be allowed to ask the Oracle one
} question in their lifetime.  And now was his time.
} 
} "He" was Eggbert J. Cornhusk, poor farmer from upstate New York.  But at
} this moment, he was Supplicant Extrodinaire, looking for the answer to
} his true self--his inner begin.  Surely the Oracle, who knew all, saw
} all, and made a great Hollandaise sauce, could at least nudge him
} towards the answer to that mystery.
} 
} Nearly at the summit, Cornhusk spotted a small opening in the rock face.
} Brushing the snow away, he saw that the opening had been ornately
} chiseled by some unknown hand.  He knew what he must do.
} 
} Just inside was a small anteroom with stairs that appeared to go up
} right to the inside of the summit.  With each step, he considered how he
} would grovel to the Oracle, hoping to earn the man's sympathy.  As each
} footfall echoed in the stairwell, he considered how best to elucidate
} his query, not wanting to sound to "common".
} 
} At last; the final stair!  Cornhusk's legs were weak, but his mind was
} racing, and his enthusiasm urged him on as he entered the room at the
} top.  But then, confusion struck the mind of the supplicant.
} 
} Inside the room was what appeared to be a computer terminal with an
} attached printer.  Above the terminal, mounted to the wall, was a
} complex machine.  Below the machine was a plaque with was tastefully
} inscribed with these words:
} 
} BEWARE THE <ZOT> GUN
} 
} The supplicant's heart sank as he not only realized that there was no
} Man of Knowledge, but that what knowledge was here was asleep because
} there was no power to the equipment.  However, no sooner than that
} thought crossed his mind, the terminal blinked on, the printer powered
} up and reset, and the ZOT gun sprang to life.  Startled, Eggbert jumped
} back, but regaining his composure, he inched forward to read the
} terminal screen:
} 
}      Welcome to the ORACLE
} 
}      Please enter your name:
} 
} He was confused.  Was this cold, inhuman machine going to give him
} insight into his own life?  Had he come this far only to be ridiculed?
} 
} Again, the room seemed to read his thoughts.  The ZOT gun started
} whining as though it was preparing to engage and the terminal screen now
} nearly shouted:
} 
}      PLEASE ENTER YOUR NAME:
} 
} Cornhusk rapidly typed:
} 
}      Eggbert Jasper Cornhusk
} 
} The response came:
} 
}      Please enter your question:
}      %
} 
} Crazed with fear, he typed
} 
} > 
} > % whoami
} > 
} 
} He was too tired and frightened even to bother with the space bar.  And
} in response:
} 
}      WHAT!? No groveling!?  
}      This does not bode well for you.
}      Please wait while the ORACLE ponders.
}      Results will be on the printer.
} 
} Within seconds, the printer began pounding out dots.  The paper was
} ejected, and all the machinery went quite, even (thankfully) the ZOT
} gun.  Cornhusk examined the printout.
} 
}      The Oracle has pondered your question.  Your question was:
} 
}      whoami
} 
}      And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
} 
}      In consideration of the fact that there was no groveling of any
}      kind, and that the question appears to have been hastily asked (no
}      spaces), the ORACLE decrees that the common man will answer your
}      question.
} 
} Below this was a convention badge:
} 
}      HELLO! My name is        (in big letters)
}      Eggbert J. Cornhusk      (in poor scribbling)
} 
}      The ORACLE requires you to wear this badge forever.  Whenever you
}      ask this question again, anyone in the vicinity will be able to
}      answer you.
} 
} "This is insane!", screamed Eggbert.  "I've come all this way to be told
} my question wasn't good enough?  Of all the..."  Just then, the ZOT gun
} began to again power up.  Cornhusk, in his fear, dropped the paper and
} ran for the stairs.  He descended as fast as he could.  He never once
} looked back while descending the mountain.
} 
} In the room of the ORACLE, a paper lies on the floor to this day, the
} front of which has a convention name badge.  On the back it says, "Heh,
} heh. Just kidding.  A little ORACLE humor there.  The true answer to
} your question is on page 2.  You owe the ORACLE a new joke book."
} 
} A page sits in the printer, covered with text in an elegant font.  The
} title reads "Knowing Oneself".  It has never been read.
} 
-- 
Doug Payton -- Internet:  dpayton@qcinet.gwinnett.com

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          An open mind is good, but, like an open window,
           it still needs a screen to keep the bugs out.
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