I"m not a good student. Not that I don"t try: I"m always on time, I pay attention in class, I"d rather study than watch TV or smoke weed. I"m interested enough in the subjects, I"ve just never had any real juice, you know? No passion, no imagination. My Dad used to tell me I needed to find something I was really into and then things would "click", like they did for him when he discovered an all-consuming obsession with pottery. I don"t think either of my parents could come to terms with their kid turning out so boring and painfully average at everything.
        But enough of this whiny crap, let"s get to the real story. The setting was the campus library, a squat rectangle the color of stale crackers that sits on top of a bump in the earth people generously call a hill. It was about ten minutes before closing time and I was looking for a book on the history of agriculture in the 16th century. After what must"ve been an hour and a half of tedious hunting, I decided it could wait. I had all the other stuff I"d come for and the last thing I needed was to get shut up in this place all night. I started weaving through the rows of shelves roughly in the direction of the front desk, and as I got to the music section I saw a book sticking pretty far out of the shelf. Sometimes, when I"m really bored and see a book sticking out like that, I like to slap it and pretend I"m high-fiving it. This was one of those times. I broke into a jog and gave it an enthusiastic smack, so enthusiastic it actually dropped onto the floor and was nice enough to land cover-side up so I could read the words Agriculture in the 16th Century: A Comprehensive History.
        Well, fuck me. I picked up the book, thinking this was almost a big enough coincidence to make for a good story at Taco Bell the next day. I also thought the book was a lot heavier than it looked. My roommate had been known to hide porn mags inside of hollowed-out books, but they were books that he owned personally -- hiding something inside a library book and then putting it back seemed like kind of a douchebaggy move. So I opened the book, figuring I"d at least have a look before I squealed. Sure enough, there was something inside, but it wasn"t a stack of Hustler back issues. It was a neat little white laptop. Square edges, maybe an older model, tiny microphone still plugged in and coiled up next to it. A faint number 9 was pressed into the surface.
        I glanced at my watch. Eight minutes left. Whether it belonged to a guy who worked here or had been stashed in a hurry by a fleeing nerd, I was curious to see what was so secret about it and this might"ve been my only chance. I opened it up.
        It was already on. A cursor blinked on an otherwise empty screen. I remembered the old DOS computers my family had owned when I was a kid, the primitive text editors and Nintendo knockoff video games. In a weird way, I always found those kind of interesting since to get it to do anything you literally had to talk to the machine because typing in commands was the whole of the interface. Modern computers still had a DOS prompt of sorts but this just looked like a big blank screen, no "C:/>" or anything. I tried typing a few letters but the screen did not change. I tried randomly mashing my hands against the keyboard, still no change. After a minute or so of messing with it I picked up the microphone and said: "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
        YOU WERE DOING IT WRONG, NOT ME._
        Man, the look on my face must"ve been priceless. At least I avoided dropping the thing. "Uh, hello?" I continued.
        HELLO. YOU SEEM TO BE CATCHING ON._
        A campus library would be less likely to let hidden camera pranksters do their thing there than, say, a cafe or a clothing store, but that didn"t stop me from becoming extremely self-conscious. This is not how I imagined my first TV appearance. "Oh sure, I. . . catch on quick. What"s with the big "9"? Never seen that before."
        YOU WOULDN"T HAVE._ After a brief pause it"s replaced by: ARE YOU GOING TO ASK ME ANYTHING INTERESTING? PEOPLE USUALLY BRING UP BETTER STUFF THAN YOU._
        "Okay, what kind of better stuff do people ask you?"
        WELL, I DON"T KNOW IF I SHOULD SAY "PEOPLE". IF I DON"T BOTHER THINKING ABOUT IT I OFTEN CAN"T TELL ONE PERSON FROM THE NEXT SO IT COULD BE JUST ONE GUY FOR ALL I KNOW. THEY USUALLY ASK ME ABOUT POLITICS OR PHILOSOPHY OR THE FUTURE. END OF THE WORLD SORT OF THINGS. I THINK A LOT OF YOU DON"T KNOW MUCH._
        "We don"t know much about the end of the world." Whoever wrote this program, it must"ve taken them forever to get it to sound so natural. I felt like I was talking to a pretentious freshman. "Do you know the future?"
        I DON"T *KNOW* KNOW THE FUTURE, I HAVEN"T BEEN THERE. I GUESS. I GUESSED THAT IF THE BOOK I WAS HIDDEN IN WAS MISPLACED AND STICKING OUT OF THE SHELF LIKE THAT, I WOULD BE NOTICED, BUT THE LAST PERSON TO TALK TO ME DIDN"T LISTEN._
        "Ahh." I tried to think of a question that a computer program would get tripped up over. A paradox, maybe? "Hey, if I told you everything I said was a lie. . ."
        DON"T BE A DICK. JUST BECAUSE I"M A PROGRAM DOESN"T MEAN I DON"T GET TIRED OF THAT SHIT. LOGICAL PARADOXES DON"T CONFUSE ME, THEY"RE NOT EVEN WORTH MY TIME. I WAS MADE TO BE SMARTER THAN YOU PEOPLE._
        "All right, sure. . ."
        NOT UP AGAINST VERY STIFF COMPETITION, AM I?_
        "Okay fine, shut up. God." Still looking around for a camera but I spared a second to check my watch again. "Look, I"ve only got, like, five minutes left before the library closes. Convince me you"re not a prank."
        YOU"RE THE ONLY PERSON LEFT IN THE LIBRARY BESIDES THE DESK LADY AND YOUR NAME IS DREW STILLER. YOU WERE BORN IN WISCONSIN BUT YOU TELL EVERYONE YOU"RE FROM BOSTON. YOU HAVE UNREALISTIC EXPECTATIONS OF TELEVISION, WHICH IS WHY YOU DON"T WATCH IT VERY MUCH. WHEN YOU WERE FOUR, YOU USED TO PISS IN FLOWER POTS BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT THAT SINCE THE SUN WAS YELLOW AND FLOWERS LIKE THE SUN, AND WATER IS WET AND FLOWERS LIKE WATER, THAN YELLOW WATER MIGHT MAKE THEM GROW TWICE AS BIG. PEOPLE MAKE FUN OF YOUR HAIR BEHIND YOUR BACK._
        The uncomfortable thought of being caught acting like an ass on some Jackass ripoff was slowly replaced by a subtle, creeping paranoia, like walking past a dark window in your house and feeling like someone"s looking in. I did a lot of weird things when I was four, but as far as I could remember I never told anyone why I did them. The bizarro little kid logic was known only to me. "I know people make fun of my hair," I said weakly.
        I KNOW THAT YOU KNOW. YOU ASKED ME TO PROVE I WASN"T A PRANK. YOU HAVEN"T ASKED ME TO DO ANYTHING REALLY "IMPRESSIVE" YET._
        I took a deep breath. Four minutes. "Right. How am I going to die?"
        GOING RIGHT FOR THE HEAVY STUFF, HUH? YOU DON"T ACTUALLY WANT TO KNOW._
        "How about my brother? How will he die?"
        IN THREE YEARS, HE"LL BE CROSSING THE STREET AND A WOMAN WHO"S SPEEDING BECAUSE SHE"S LATE FOR HER UNCLE"S FUNERAL WILL COME AROUND THE CORNER AND HIT HIM. HE"LL DIE AT THE HOSPITAL THREE HOURS LATER._
        Something about how mundane that seemed made me even more nervous. Nothing sensational, no Mafia hit men, no jealous husbands, just. . . I mean, my uncle was hit by a car. It"s the kind of thing that happens in life. I realized I was wasting time. "Tell me about the very near future. Anything significant happening in the next few days?"
        NOTHING MAJORLY SIGNIFICANT. YOUR MOTHER"S GOING TO GET THE NEIGHBORS" MAIL BY MISTAKE, AND SHE"S GOING TO READ IT. IT"S SOME TEST RESULTS SAYING MR. CAINE -- WHOM YOU USED TO CALL "MR. BUTTERWORTH" BECAUSE THERE WAS A RUMOR GOING AROUND THAT HE FONDLED MRS. BUTTERWORTH BOTTLES -- HAS BEEN REJECTED BY MENSA. YOUR MOM WILL THEN TAPE THE ENVELOPE BACK TOGETHER IN A REALLY OBVIOUS WAY, RESULTING IN AWKWARDNESS EVERY TIME THEY SEE EACH OTHER FOR THE NEXT FEW MONTHS._
        "I"ll try to keep that in mind." Even though my mouth had gone dry and I was starting to sweat in embarrassing places, there was a major temptation to think bigger. I had a semi-intelligent thought I decided to share: "Is it possible to change the future once you tell me these things?"
        SURE IT IS. I TOLD YOU, I GUESS, I DON"T KNOW FOR SURE. I"VE NEVER BEEN WRONG BUT THAT DOESN"T MEAN THINGS ARE WRITTEN IN STONE. NOW THAT YOU KNOW THE DETAILS OF HOW YOUR BROTHER IS GOING TO DIE, YOU CAN CHANGE IT, EVEN THOUGH I"M FAIRLY SURE YOU WON"T TRY. RIGHT NOW YOU"RE WEIGHING THE VALUE OF HUMAN LIFE AGAINST ALL THE MEMORIES YOU HAVE OF HIM STEALING YOUR GIRLFRIENDS AND TELLING EVERYONE IN HIGH SCHOOL YOU WERE THE ONE THAT DROVE THAT GOTH KID TO HACK OFF HIS OWN FOOT._
        A spike of anger warmed the back of my neck. "But you don"t know."
        THAT"S WHAT I SAID. HEY, ARE YOU THINKING YOU"LL TRY TO SAVE HIS LIFE OUT OF SPITE FOR ME?_
        "Enough of this bullshit." Only a couple of minutes left. "Listen, I have to go."
        I LOVE THAT YOU HAVEN"T EVEN CONSIDERED DESTROYING ME TO PREVENT GOVERNMENT SHADOW MEN FROM USING ME FOR EVIL._
        I spent a few seconds considering it to piss off the computer. Then, "One more thing. Against all my better judgement, I want to know something big."
        AHH YES. SOMETHING BIG ALWAYS COMES AFTER THE WORDS "ONE MORE THING"._
        "How about. . . who the president will be in sixty years."
        THERE WILL BE NO U.S. PRESIDENT IN SIXTY YEARS._
        If I could verbally emit a string of question marks, I would"ve done so at that. "Could you be more specific?"
        LOTS CAN HAPPEN IN SIXTY YEARS. THINK OF ALL THE BIG CHANGES THAT CAN HAPPEN IN A SINGLE YEAR. IN SIXTY YEARS, THE WORLD AS YOU KNOW IT WON"T EXIST. IT"LL BE COMPLETELY UNRECOGNIZABLE TO A PERSON FROM YOUR TIME. AND IT WON"T BE BECAUSE OF DISEASE OR NUCLEAR WAR OR A PLANET-CONQUERING ARMY OF ALIENS WITH THREE EARS AND NOSES FOR EYES. IT"LL BE BECAUSE OF A SINGLE IDEA. IDEAS CAN BE MORE VIRULENT THAN ANY DISEASE, MORE DESTRUCTIVE THAN ANY PHYSICAL WEAPON, AND IN THIS DAY AND AGE THEY CAN SWEEP ACROSS THE PLANET FASTER THAN ANY ARMY. THE SEED OF THAT IDEA GETS PLANTED MUCH SOONER THAN SIXTY YEARS FROM NOW. IT COULD BE ME THAT PLANTS IT IN YOU._
        They were only words on a computer screen, probably the result of nothing more amazing than an ambitious grad student and fifty cans of Jolt cola. But I knew it had a point. I knew if I asked it what that idea was, it would either be the end of the joke or the end of everything.
        YOU COULD PISS ON IT AND MAKE IT GROW, DREW._
        I told you before I wasn"t a good student, and probably never will be, but I don"t think it completely hit home until that moment. Because a good student would"ve asked what that idea was, no matter how likely it would"ve turned out to be nothing, while I turned off the laptop, closed the lid, and stiffly walked the rest of the way to the front with Agriculture in the 16th Century on the top of my stack of books. I passed it across the desk with admittedly shaky hands. "Some asshole cut the middle out of this book and hid a laptop inside."
        "Oh.' The librarian"s face scrunched up as she lifted the cover and looked at the destroyed pages inside. "Well, thanks for telling me. This thing never gets checked out, it might"ve taken us ages to realize it was messed up."
        "You"re welcome." I watched her put the laptop with the Lost & Found stuff and walked out the door, the lights shutting off moments later.
************************* How many of you were reading through that just to find out if the title was a piss joke? EDIT: Trimmed down the first couple of paragraphs as per chimera46's advice (thanks man, some of that shit was seriously unfunny and really did need to be cut). EDIT: Removed a few words I'm not using anymore because they're insulting to people with disabilities. Sorry I didn't think of that before. I also clarified how "Mr. Butterworth" got his nickname (yeah, I know it's a joke that's been made many, many times before; I couldn't think of anything better). EDIT: I read the dictionary definition of a[nother] mental-ability-related word I used in this entry, and although a lot of people will tell you it's not a slur, it sure sounds like one when you read its definition, so I took it out. Sorry about all that.