Back of the Envelope

Glenn Reynolds has pointed out a slashdot article about robots hunting down uncooperative human subjects. Unfortunately, whether for humor purposes or as a simple misunderstanding, they misread the original invitation for proposals, which actually says:

There are many research efforts within robotics in path planning, exploration, and mapping of indoor and outdoor environments. Operator control units are available that allow semi-autonomous map-based control of a team of robots. While the test environments are usually benign, they are slowly becoming longer and more complex. There has also been significant research in the game theory community involving pursuit/evasion scenarios. This topic seeks to merge these research areas and develop a software/hardware suit that would enable a multi-robot team, together with a human operator, to search for and detect a non-cooperative human subject. The main research task will involve determining the movements of the robot team through the environment to maximize the opportunity to find the subject, while minimizing the chances of missing the subject. If the operator is an active member of the search team, the software should minimize the chance that the operator may encounter the subject. As a simplification, the building layout could be given, although operating in an unknown environment with unknown obstacles is more realistic. The latter case should be studied at least in simulation. The software should maintain awareness of line-of-sight, as well as communication and sensor limits. It will be necessary to determine an appropriate sensor suite that can reliably detect human presence and is suitable for implementation on small robotic platforms. Additionally, the robot may not have the intelligence, sensing, or manipulative power to perform reconnaissance under full autonomy. For example, the robot may not be able to negotiate all obstacles, determine the course of action when confronted with difficult choices, or have sufficient team members to optimally search. Part of the research will involve determining what role the human operator will play in the search task. The system should flag the operator when assistance is required. Typical robots for this type of activity are expected to weigh less than 100 Kg and the team would have three to five robots.

Now, the problem is that the term used here is 'non-cooperative', not 'uncooperative,' and the two are not synonymous. Uncooperative, as a commonly used term, means someone who is "unwilling to work with you." It can be a euphemism for anyone you disagree with. Non-cooperative, in this context, is a technical term that has nothing to do with the subject's willingness or unwillingness. It refers to whether someone is actively helping in the task, namely, their own detection, and more specifically, actively helping in an agreed upon manner, such as by transmitting a radio signal. A non-cooperative subject could, in fact, be someone trying to hide from the robots, but it could equally well be someone who is unable to communicate, or who simply doesn't know how. If you have a system that detects cooperative subjects by radio transmitters, then someone standing on a hilltop waving a flag, but who lacks a radio transmitter, is non-cooperative.

I'll be hosting the next Storyblogging Carnival, the ninety-third, here at Back of the Envelope. It'll be going up in two weeks.

If you use your blog to share your fiction, then the Storyblogging Carnival is your opportunity. Here we host any and all forms of storytelling in blog format. If you're curious about what this looks like, have a look at some examples of previous storyblogging carnivals. This next carnival will be going up Novemebr 3rd.

If you'd like to participate, please e-mail your story submissions to me at dscrank-at-alum-dot-mit-dot-edu (or post in my comments), including the following information:

• Name of your blog
• URL of your blog
• Title of the story
• URL for the blog entry where the story is posted
• (OPTIONAL) Author's name
• (OPTIONAL) A suggested rating for adult content (G, PG, PG-13, R)
• A word count
• A short blurb describing the story

The post may be of any age, from a week old to years old. The submission deadline is 11:59 PM Eastern time on Saturday, November 1st. More detailed information follows (same as always):

1. The story or excerpt submitted must be posted on-line as a blog entry, and while fiction is preferred, non-fiction storytelling is acceptable.
2. The story can be any length, but the Carnival will list them in order of length, from shortest to longest, and include a word count for each one.
3. You may either send a complete story, a story in progress, or a lengthy excerpt. You should indicate the word count for both the excerpt and the complete story in the submission, and you should say how the reader can find more of the story in the post itself.
4. If the story spans multiple posts, each post should contain a link to the beginning of the story, and a link to the next post. You may submit the whole story, the first post, or, if you've previously submitted earlier posts to the Carnival, the next post which you have not submitted. Please indicate the length of the entire story, as well as the portion which you are submitting.
5. The host has sole discretion to decide whether the story will be included or not, or whether to indicate that the story has pornographic or graphically violent content. The ratings for the story will be decided by the host. I expect I'll be pretty lenient on that sort of thing, but I have some limits, and others may draw the line elsewhere. Aside from noting potentially offensive content, while I may say nice things about stories I like, I won't be panning anyone's work. I expect other hosts to be similarly polite.
6. The story may be the blogger's own or posted with permission, but if it is not his own work he should gain permission from the author before submitting to the Carnival.

If you'd like to be added to the e-mail list, please let me know. Finally, I appreciate folks promoting the carnival on their own blogs, and I'm always looking for bloggers willing to host future carnivals.

Welcome to the ninety-second Storyblogging Carnival. It's a little bit late, even though there aren't that many stories, so it really shouldn't be that much work. Ah well. Rather than make excuses, here's the carnival:

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Quotation from Lenny's Wife
by Marco Kaufman of 55 Flash Fiction Friday
A 55 word brief story rated G.

A famous quote from Mao Tse-Tung is given a new twist

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First Installment of Cheese Pyrates!
by Mark Rayner of The Skwib
A 400 word brief story rated PG.

A tale of curdled revenge, as Ensign Jim Quinn tries to defeat his father's killer, Captain Jack LaBung.

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My Close Encounter (I Think) with Paul Newman
by Madeleine Begun Kane of Mad Kane's Humor Blog
A 500 word brief story rated PG.

Humor column about the time I'm pretty sure I encountered Paul Newman in a New York City bar.

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Crossing Over, Part VI (The Whole Story)
by Donald S. Crankshaw of Back of the Envelope
The next 2,926 words of a 17,473 word short story rated PG-13.

Continuing the CRFH fanfiction, it all gets very exciting.

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This concludes the eighty-eighth Storyblogging Carnival.

If you'd like to take part in a future carnival, please contact me. I am also looking for hosts. Other carnivals can be found here.

The Storyblogging Carnival can be found at The Truth Laid Bear's ÜberCarnival.

The Rest of the Story: You can find it here.

I've been neglectful in getting this story posted, and in getting the Storyblogging Carnival done. I'll get both of them done tonight.

This is the next to last part of my College Roomies from Hell!!! fanfiction (posted with permission. It's almost over, but I'm not going to make it easy.

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Crossing Over
Part VI
Margaret held "Dahlia" while she cried. Her head was slumped on Margaret's chest while her hands clutched the short sleeves of her "Die!" tee shirt. Her sobs had finally trailed off into whimpers, but it didn't seem like she would be done any time soon. Margaret awkwardly patted her back, at a loss for what to say. She'd already done "There, there" and shushing sounds, and that had exhausted her repertoire for handling these sorts of situations. In retrospect, it probably was not a good idea to get the female Dave to talk about "Mark."

Girl-Dave had denied that Mark had hit her, although Margaret wasn't all that certain she believed her. But if she remembered that happening, that wasn't what she had wanted to talk about. Instead she had spoke of his rudeness, his attempts to distance himself and drive her off, how he always blamed himself for anything bad that happened to her. The description was all too familiar, but hearing this account of "Mark" from this feminine Dave gave her a new insight into it. She found herself becoming angry on "Dahlia's" behalf, and if she could have, she'd have given this Mark the beating of a lifetime. No matter how justified he was in his concern, he had hurt Dahlia badly. Unfortunately, she was Mark, and self-flagellation would not help matters in the least. At the same time, she cursed "Dahlia" for giving her such a clear idea of what it had been like to be on the receiving end of her wrath. Dave had never done so. Although he'd communicated his concern and his love until she was sick of hearing of it, he always whitewashed the anger and frustration he'd felt, always ready to forgive or worse, excuse, her actions. If she hurt him, and she had, he would act depressed and distant for a while, but he'd keep coming back without letting her know how she'd hurt him or why he'd return despite that. "Dahlia" had no such reluctance in discussing her feelings with Margaret. Margaret really wished she did.

She realized that "Dahlia's" whimpers had ceased, and that only slow breathing came from her now. She'd fallen asleep. Margaret gently disengaged her hands from her tee shirt and then removed herself, laying the girl-Dave down on the couch. She found the blanket the girls used when they slept there and draped it over her, then took the half-full water glass to the sink and began washing it out. When the phone sounded, she picked it up on the first ring. "Dahlia" stirred in response, but didn't awake. Chelsea, who'd taken refuge under the couch during the storm of weeping, looked up from where she lay on the couch near her owner's feet, but otherwise didn't move.

"Hello," Margaret said.

"Hello, Margaret?" said Roger. "We think we have an answer to our Dahlia problem."

"No, no, no, you idiots!" A voice yelled in the background. "A cat's eye marble is not an acceptable substitute for an actual cat's eye. I told you to use three newts' eyes—the book says that'd be fine!" That sounded like Marsha.

"If the solution involves Marsha cooking, I'm not interested," Margaret said.

"No, no, she's not cooking, just supervising, and Mike's making sure everything's going right. See, there's this potion…"

"A potion?"

"Yeah, it's supposed to change a person's gender. If 'Dahlia' drinks it, she should turn back to Dave."

"I thought we were just going to try to reverse the spell," Margaret said. "I'm not sure about messing with potions."

"Well, we've researched it and we don't think there's a way to just reverse the spell. Transforming Dave seems to have been a random misfire, and there's no way to duplicate the effect. This should work, though. Fluffy says so."

"Fluffy?"

"Yeah, I went and got it when Mike and Marsha showed up. It's been a big help."

"I'm sure it has. So if this potion changes Dave back into a guy, will it fix his memories too?"

"We think so."

"Think?" Margaret asked, disliking this more and more.

"Well, there's no way to know for sure, as we don't know what changed his memories, but it could just be the trauma of being transformed screwing with his mind. I've read about cases like this. Changing him back should be just like hitting an amnesiac over the head again."

"Does that actually work?"

"It does on TV. You should always believe what you see on TV, Margaret."

This is sounding crazier and crazier, but Roger's usually right about the crazy stuff, Margaret thought. "Okay, I'll bring him down. When will this potion be done?"

"It's almost done now, and you need to hurry. It loses its potency within half an hour."

Margaret hung up, then walked over to girl-Dave and gently shook her shoulder. "C'mon, Dave, Dahlia, whoever. Time to get up. We've found a solution."



Dave groaned as he came awake, a hand shaking his shoulder. "Ouch, that hurts. What happened?" he asked.

"You passed out," someone said. It sounded like Mark, but he still couldn't see anything. Were his eyes shut? "I'm sorry I hurt you, but you wouldn't stop."

"Yeah, I'm like that," Dave said. A cold weight was over his eyes, he realized, and he reached up to pull the damp washcloth away. Now he could see a blurry shape in front of him. He blinked, and he thought it became less blurry, but he could still see nothing distinct. He focused on what he could feel. It felt like he was reclining on the couch, sitting up with a pillow beneath his back. He ached all over, but that shouldn't surprise him. "I don't suppose I convinced you of anything?"

"You convinced me that you're even more stubborn than I thought. And you're a better fighter than I expected."

Dave shook his head, and discovered that he could make out Mark's face now. Not well—as blurry as his vision was, it looked no different from Margaret's—but at least he could separate it from the background. "Think about what's happened over the past couple of months. I doubt it happened the same way for you guys as it did for me, but I'm betting it was close. Think of the fights and arguments between the six of you, driving you apart, causing you to run off. Rose, too. You blamed Satan for all of it, and I think you're at least partly right. But what was his goal?"

"He wanted to get to me through my friends…"

"Or maybe he wanted to separate you from your friends. I think it was divide and conquer. Get each of us alone and vulnerable and use that to break us. He came close with me: that false angel almost took away what little hope I had. And Mike—well, that's another story."

"False angel?" Dave started to say something but Mark interrupted, "No, it's not important. It's all my fault, anyway."

Dave continued, "You aren't listening. It's not just you, it's all of us. Alone we're prey, maybe even tools he can use, but together we're a threat somehow. No, I don't know how, but that's what I think. If any of us runs off, he only makes himself vulnerable and the rest of us weaker."

"You really believe this, don’t you?" Mark asked.

Dave sighed, "Yeah. For all the good it does. You'll go on blaming yourself for everything no matter what."

"Well, we'll worry about that later. We need to get going."

"Huh, why?" Dave asked, but he was already swinging his feet off the couch and levering himself up. He winced at the pain, and even the wincing hurt.

Mark helped him to his feet while Dave tried to force his legs to obey. "Rose thinks she and the witches have found a way to fix your problem," Mark said. "For what it's worth, she says Fluffy agrees."

"Uh-huh. And would this solution involve turning me into a girl?" Dave asked.

"Well, yeah," Mark admitted.

"And what if I don't want to be one?"

"Look, I told you before, it's just that your memories are all screwed up. You liked being a woman."

"Even if my memories are mixed up, what I remember is being a guy. Why would I want to be a girl?"

"But once you're changed back, your memories will be fixed, too. At least that's what Rose thinks."

"And if they aren't? Then I'll just be a guy in a girl's body." Dave sighed. "I'm almost afraid to go down there, but we better get this straightened out now. Come on."

Dave limped into the hallway, refusing to lean on Mark. Any more than he had to, anyway. Chester followed behind, thankfully sensing that hitching a ride on Dave's chest might cause his soul-mate to topple over. I should have known better than to pick a fight with a male Margaret. I'm going to be aching for a month. Oddly, though, I do feel better. I guess I needed to get that out of my system. I wonder if I got through to him. He glanced at Mark, who looked concerned and guilty, though he tried to hide it. Ugh! He still thinks I'm Dahlia. Hopefully, I'll be able to disabuse him of that. They took the elevator rather than attempting to navigate the stairs, for which Dave was grateful, as his body didn't seem ready for anything more strenuous than a walk down the hallway.

They found the door to Steve's and Waldo's—no, make that Stella's and Wendy's—apartment ajar, a strange odor wafting out. Mark pushed the door wide, and Dave limped into the crowded apartment. Adam, Michelle, and Marvin were in the dining room, although Adam and Michelle were on opposite sides of the room. Through the open door to the kitchen, Dave could see three women he had never met but whom he recognized instantly. The girl with stiff, curly blond hair, glasses, and Fluffy in her arm had to be Rose, and her tee shirt saying "Queen of the Moon People" merely confirmed that. Stella and Wendy looked way too much like Steve and Waldo in dresses for Dave's comfort. They were huddled over the stove, ladling a purple liquid bubbling in the pot on the stove into a glass with Tweetey and Sylvester on it.

Adam was the first to see them enter, and his smile dropped away the moment he saw Dave's condition. "Good God, Dahlia!" he exclaimed. "What happened to you?"

"Look, I'm not Dahlia. I wish you guys would believe me. And until we get that sorted out, I'd rather not say what happened. But first, I want to know what Wendy and Stella are up to."

"We finished the potion that will change you back," said the female-Steve. "Although I think you ought to stay this way. You're much better looking," she said with a most unladylike leer.

"I agree," Dave said, and lasered the glass out of her hand, sending it crashing into the wall where it promptly shattered and sent its contents splashing over the wall and countertop. Several people screamed, but Dave couldn't tell who as Mark's startled jump had removed a vital support and he'd fallen to the floor.

"What the Hell was that?" Mark yelled at Dave as he levered himself off the floor yet again. The others were staring at him, and while there were murmurs between them, no one besides Mark spoke to Dave himself.

"That was my laservision," Dave said, as he regained his feet. "And have you noticed that I seem to be spending an unusual amount of time on the floor today? Even for me? I swear it's like gravity has it in for me or something." He wobbled but his legs seemed steady enough to keep him upright. Mark didn't offer to support him this time.

"When did that witch get laservision?" Stella asked.

"Yeah, that potion's supposed to be simmered, not microwaved," Wendy asserted.

Everyone else was staring at him like he might blast them at any moment. Even Mark seemed scared, in that about-to-go-for-his-guns way. Dave smiled, and he imagined that as bruised and puffy as his face was right now, it probably looked grotesque, maybe even threatening. He hoped so. "Mike, Roger, and I got really drunk after I made one of my stupid attempts to get Margaret to love me. We ended up swimming in a toxic pool, and we mutated. I got laservision."

He looked around, wondering whether anyone believed him. None of them seemed willing to be the first to speak. "Now do you believe me? I'm not Dahlia. And you are not my friends. Or my enemies." His eyes glowed briefly as he shot a look at Wendy and Stella, and they both took a step back. "I don't know what's going on any more than you do, but if Rose is anything like Roger, I suspect she does. Or at least that rock does." Rose looked scared and... Uh oh, Dave recognized that look. "Don't ruin your tee shirt on my account, Rose. I'm not going to hurt anyone, and besides, laservision beats werecoyote every time. Trust me, I know."

"Well, okay," Rose said, "I'll ask Fluffy." She whispered something to the rock, and soon they were engaged in a heated, if half-silent and half-whispered, debate. Dave only caught a few words, like "wormhole" and "quantum mechanics." After a while, Rose looked up from her rock and said, "Fluffy's just as confused about the whole laservision thing as I am, but it suggests that maybe Wendy's and Stella's spell actually worked."

"Huh?" Dave asked. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the spell wasn't supposed to change you—or Dahlia, if you aren't her—into a guy. It was supposed to send you to another plane of existence."

"You mean like an alternate dimension?" Adam asked. "Where everything's really similar to here but with slight differences?"

"Hmph. Since when did you become an expert on other planes of existence?" Michelle said.

"Since I read webcomics. Traveling to alternate dimensions happens all the time in them, like the Dimension of Portuguese in Sluggy. All the same people are in both dimensions, but they're different in small ways, like they speak Portuguese instead of English."

"Yes, that's exactly what Fluffy says," Rose answered. "Only in this dimension, everyone's the opposite gender. Other than that, events are mostly parallel, so that when Wendy and Stella were sending Dahlia to that dimension, their counterparts were sending Dave here."

"It makes more sense than most of Roger's theories," Dave said. "So how do we fix it?"

"I think," Rose replied, "that if Wendy and Stella just cast their spell again, it'll send Dave to wherever they sent Dahlia. Assuming that Dave and Dahlia just switched places, then that should put him back where he belongs. If everyone on the other side is doing the same thing, then they should be sending Dahlia back at the same time."

"Only it's never that easy in the webcomics," Adam said. "If there were more than two dimensions involved in the exchange, or if events don't exactly parallel—and they don't, not unless Dahlia has laservision and you and Michelle are mutants too—then things could get messy."



"Just drink it already," Margaret said. Her impatience was making her angry.

"It smells funny," the girl-Dave said, making a face as she peered into the glass full of the ugly purple liquid. She'd been doing that for over a quarter of an hour now. Everyone was crowded into Steve's and Waldo's little kitchen, waiting on her to decide whether to drink the potion. Margaret had tried her best to convince her to, and sometimes Mike and Marsha had joined in, but Roger and April had been mostly silent. So had Chelsea, who sat on the countertop and refused to go anywhere near the potion. Margaret was getting worried. If "Dahlia" wouldn't drink this stupid potion, then she'd—they would never get Dave back.

"Then hold your nose when you drink it," Margaret advised.

"But I don't want to be a boy," she whined, apparently giving up on excuses.

Waldo guffawed at that, and Steve said, "Hey, if she wants to be a girl, I don't see why we should be forcing her—"

"As if I can't see you staring at her breasts, Steve. And for the last time, Dave, you are a boy whether or not you look like one right now," Margaret said. "You're just messed up. If we don't fix it, there'll be a whole rash of problems that will come from it."

"Margaret's right," Mike said, gesturing with his tentacle. "Dahlia's" fearful eyes locked onto Mike's mutated appendage and tracked it, as they always did when she let herself look at Mike. Usually she did her best not to. "We need the Dave that's not afraid of our mutations. Whose laservision can make short work of jokers like these two. We don't need a scared little girl."

"You… you think I'm useless?" girl-Dave asked.

"Dave isn't," Mike said.

"If she's going to drink it, she better hurry," Roger said. "It loses its potency soon."

There was silence for several long minutes. "I want to be this hero you've all been talking about, but I'm afraid," she said.

"It's your choice," Margaret said. "But we need Dave."

"Dahlia" sighed, then closed her eyes as she lifted the glass to her lips.

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This is a 2,926 word excerpt of a 17,473 word story rated PG-13.