It's Been Weeks Since I've Had A Good Drinking Contest!

[guide_beregond]

It would seem I've been challenged to a drinking contest by a computer program. And any self-respecting man of Gondor cannot walk away from a challenge. He wished for a wager, too.

Well, then.

*nods to the bartender, settles into a comfortable booth, and waits to see if Smith changes his mind or not*

Comments

[code-smith.livejournal.com]

Ha! Change my mind? You should be so lucky.

Ready to go?

[guide-beregond.livejournal.com]

I've been here for hours. Took you long enough! I'm sure you had to talk yourself back into this again, though, quite understandable.

*waves for bartender to bring a large pitcher of ale and a glass*

Now then - did you bring your 'drinks'? Let's see them.

[code-smith.livejournal.com]

Oh, please. At this point, nothing can talk me out of this contest. I was late because I had to do some extra research on the alcohol content of your ale, so I could properly simulate it.

*plops down virtual ale pitcher, with a fetching Agent Smith^TM logo on it*

Alcohol content estimated at 12%.

To quote you silly humans: Beregond, you are going down.

[guide-beregond.livejournal.com]

*scowls at pitcher* Nice that you have your insignia on it to remind yourself who you are, since you won't recall your own name soon enough. Now then. I'll pour for you and you pour for me. When one of us can't pour glasses any longer, they lose. Sound fair?

*picks up your pitcher and pours you a tall glass, sniffs it, shudders and sets it in front of you*

[code-smith.livejournal.com]

*picks up your undistinct and boring pitcher and pours you a glass of ale as well*

You know, perhaps you should write your name on your pitcher, too. I have my own name hard-coded into me, so it's unlikely I'd forget it under any circumstances. You humans on the other hand, have your names stored only in RAM. Hardly reliable.

[guide-beregond.livejournal.com]

*wonders if I've just been insulted* You just worry about remembering who you are, and don't tell me where to ram things. Less talk, more action, Smith.

*tilts back my glass, drinks deep, doesn't set it down till it's empty*

Match that. *stretches* *takes a deep breath*

[code-smith.livejournal.com]

Less talk, more action, Smith.

*smirks* I was built with extensive multi-tasking capabilities, thank you very much. It's too bad you humans are incapable of such things.

*absorbs the glass of ale in 1 nanosecond*

Ready for the second round? *grins*

[guide-beregond.livejournal.com]

*blinks, stares*

Um, sure. *pours you another*

I'll have you know I can drink AND make witty banter at the same time. And look good doing both. I'd call that multi-tasking!

*takes my newly filled glass, and a deep breath, then downs in in five gulps*

[code-smith.livejournal.com]

*absorbs the next glass in 1.5 nanoseconds*

*frowns at the 0.5-second delay* Unacceptable.

[ Begin process of optimizing system...]

I'll have you know I can drink AND make witty banter at the same time. And look good doing both. I'd call that multi-tasking!

Heh. I can look good without any effort on my part at all. Tsk. Poor humans. You must actually groom and work to look good, whereas I was created in the image of perfection. *preens*

[guide-beregond.livejournal.com]

ah. I thought programs were all about efficiency and performance. *smirks* We had a trebuchet back home that was ugly as sin. Big, lumbering thing, beat up, scratched, dirty, heavy as Mount Doom.

But it could fling a rock from Osgiliath across the Pelennor field without worrying about looking good doing it.

*pours again* Here ya go. Now, are you a trebuchet or a primadonna? *downs mine, blinks to clear my vision*

[code-smith.livejournal.com]

Hmph. You seem to forget, Mr. Beregond - it is entirely possible for a program to be efficient, and have a great user interface.

*absorbs next glass of ale*

[ Buffering... buffering... ]

*System filters out the ethanol and quarantines it*

Now, are you a trebuchet or a primadonna?

Neither. A trebuchet does nothing but fling things. The most primitive type of 'machine', if it can even be called that. Why would I compare myself to such an unintelligent piece of junk? I could not be more offended if you tried to imply that my operating system is Windows.

As for a primadonna... well, prima donnas do nothing but look good. They occasionally sing. That's hardly an accurate description of me. I have many useful functions.

*grins at Beregond* But I don't think appearances will be much of an issue for you anymore, considering how your eye-sight is deteriorating from the alcohol.

[guide-beregond.livejournal.com]

*slurs slightly* That trebuchet saved hundreds of lives! 'snt junk! And I think you're gettin drunk, Smith, what's a window got to do with a program? *snorts, laughs, hiccups* Unless some prissy program needs tossing out a window, maybe.

My eyesight is just fine. Although you're looking better by the minute. You're cheating! Quit changing your looks! *pours, only slops a few drops* Drinky drinky, programmie. *stares at my 4th, salutes it solemnly, then downs it* It was a good soldier but now it's gone.

[code-smith.livejournal.com]

*rolls eyes* You think that mechanical contraption saved lives? How many has it killed? What's its input/output ratio, hmm?

But I digress. In my opinion, the real credit for "saving lives" should go to the ones operating the trebuchet. After all, would it do anything without human input? I think not.

You're cheating! Quit changing your looks!

Pfft. I have no need to change my looks. It is your eyesight that's malfunctioning. You really should consider debugging it.

*absorbs another glass of ale*

*A system check reveals only minor slow-downs in non-essential periphery devices*

I think I have a good idea of who's going to win this contest.

[guide-beregond.livejournal.com]

*glowers and pours you another, urging you to drink it quickly, wondering where you're putting it all*

No bugs in my eyes. NOW who's seeing things? You seein bugs, now, Schmithy? Human input, yeah, that's the thing. That's ME, the soldier behind the big ugly traybooshay. Who's the guy with his hand up your ass making -YOU- talk? Who wrote you and make you dance, Smittie?

Urg. Gimme m'drink. *takes a while but manages to get his fifth down*

[code-smith.livejournal.com]

*casually absorbs another glass of ale*

*The alcohol buffer is slowly filling up, but not yet affecting Smith too much*

The human system is full of bugs and flaws. I guess you're so used to them you don't even see them anymore.

Who wrote you and make you dance, Smittie?

The Architect wrote me. But our last encounter had him cowering in his little corner, behind his little consoles, so I think it's safe to say that he no longer makes me 'dance.' Just the opposite, in fact.

You know, this gives me an idea. When I win this contest, I'm going to make you dance for me. *smirks*

[guide-beregond.livejournal.com]

Arshitect? They design buildings! You're not a building. *shakes head to clear vision, wishes immediately I hadn't done that, wobbles*

Hey, wait. He wrote you, you scared him off... how'd this mun person get you? Um, and how'd my mun get me? 'm not a program. 'm a guy. Guy who can't dance, never could, Smitheeeeee gonna make Berrie dance? You dance with me? Nice slow dance, we can waltz and spin and spin and spi--- oh, no more spinning. Drink, less you are ready to give up, eh? Ready to give up? *tilts up the last of my sixth, sets the glass down... in mid-air two feet to the right of the table and lets go*

[code-smith.livejournal.com]

He wrote you, you scared him off... how'd this mun person get you? Um, and how'd my mun get me?

My mun managed to capture me as I was transitioning between the worlds - I'd just left the Matrix, you see. Not sure how your mun got you. Did you at one point attempt to leave one world for another? Inter-dimensional travel & all that?

*absorbs next glass of ale* *feels slightly light-headed*

Oh yes. I will definitely make you dance. And dance and dance, so I can laugh and laugh and laugh.

Next round! Since it would seem that you've broken your glass, Mr. Beregond, how about you use mine temporarily? I don't think you can take much more than one more glass anyway.

*pours ale into own glass and hands it to Beregond*

Don't let the weight of the glass tip you over!

[guide-beregond.livejournal.com]

Inter-dementia? Nah, I just came here from the White City, 'sall. All on my own three, er two feetsies. Dunno where the mun came from. She's a bitch, though, love to slap her around some. *grumbles*

*scowls at glass* This is a program glass, I'cn drinkie from it? Will I turn all programmy from Smithiey-germs? Ah-ha. *picks up glass, slops a third of it on the table and frowns* Your glass is defective.

*manages to drink the other two thirds, just barely*

*sets the glass down, taking my time with it, but it still falls over* Dammit.

Your turn. I'm watching you carefully, Smitschieee. *passes out*

[code-smith.livejournal.com]

*shrugs* *absorbs another glass of ale*

Ready for another round, Beregond?

*silence*

Beregond?

Agent Smith walks over and nudges Beregond with his feet. No response. Smith grins triumphantly.

Victory!

Smith turns Beregond over and stamps 'Property of Agent Smith' on Beregond's forehead.

Ha! Weakling. Thought he could out-drink me? A sentient program! Utterly ridiculous!

Why, I could easily drink another glass of ale.

Just as Agent Smith reaches for another round, he stumbles and falls on his face.

Ow. Urgh.

With a final check to see that Beregond is still unconscious and hasn't seen anything, Smith ungracefully crawls back to his journal.

I still win.