Nolan and his Adventures in String

Nolan Siqueue opens the refrigerator door, as if hoping to find something in it that was more appealing than the last time he checked, five minutes before. He calls to his wife to ask when she is going grocery shopping.
Nolan turned around, his eyebrows raised. "Mindy?"
The text below, through the indicated 'Handoff Line', is generated by Sudowrite
"What's your problem?" she hissed.
Nolan shrugged. "I don't know."
"You don't know?" she said, shaking her head. "I'm your wife! I'm carrying your baby! And you don't know what your problem is?"
"It's complicated."
"Really?" she said, rolling her eyes. "I think it's simple. You're an asshole."
Nolan was momentarily stunned. He didn't know what to say.
"What?" she said, her eyes burning.
"I don't know what to say. I thought I was saying something nice."
"Well, I don't want you to say anything nice!"
"Because," she said, glaring at him. "Everything you say is just so fucking patronizing and condescending! And it's always something nice! Something nice! Always nice!"
"It's just something to say!" he said, his voice rising a little. "I don't know what to say!"
"Well, don't say anything! Just stop talking to me! Please! Just stop talking! You don't know me, Nolan! You have no idea who I am!"
"I know who you are," he said, his voice softening. "I thought you were cool."
She stared at him for a long moment. "I'm going to bed," she said, her voice low and menacing. "I'm going to bed and I'm staying there for the night."
And with that, she turned around and stormed out of the room. Nolan stood there, watching her go. He saw her take a few steps down the hall before turning back toward the living room, then she stopped and returned to the bathroom where she slammed the door.
Returning now to human input:
His wife, Mindy, remains silent. She glares at Nolan silently, but since he has his back to her, he can't see the look she's giving. It's contempt, disbelief, and displeasure at a question that assumes so very much. She holds her expression until he finally turns around and notices that she is standing there.
Nolan grins. Mindy relents after a few seconds, and grins back. She loves him, and he's a genius who pays the bills with plenty left over for shopping.
Nolan, you see, is the inventor and patent-holder of an idea so brilliant, every single person who finds out what it is says something like 'Oh my gosh I can't believe I never thought of that myself!'. The invention? A unique applied and VERY creative use case for IFTTT.
The invention, called a Socially Conscious Architecture Manu-Olfactuator (or "SCAM-O" for short), made it possible for construction project managers to fabricate building materials on the spot, mere HOURS after the design is conceived by the human architect. Using Twitter and a few intermediary hacks, Nolan invented a system to make it possible for project managers all over the world to spend hours more at the spa or the golf course. No problems with delivery, no effort required to execute production. Just send a tweet with the correct (rotating) password, and then the magic happens. 3D Printers, supply chain management, all kinds of things happen in the background. But the point is that at the end of this quick chain of events, hours later, for example, an authentic, 30 meters tall Italian marble column appears on site in hours because it's manufactured right there on site.
Nolan's key insight came to him when he was working as a project manager at a firm in Omaha, many years back. He saw how complicated people made their own jobs, and by extension, his job, by a total commitment to disordered, uncooperative work product. He knew there would always be a need for a human architect to make the ideas happen. But really, everything from there could be done using algorithms and the new (at that time, new, anyway) 'MEGALITH-MONOMYTH-MAKER-MASTER', as long as the back end supply chain matters could be reliable. In itself, this would be the fatal flaw of his product, and his business plan. If supply chain would still have to be managed, the whole thing would be worthless to Nolan himself, because Nolan himself had no talent for managing people. Managing irrational people (which is to say, managing any people, let's be honest), is unbearably taxing to Nolan's creative mind and managerial style.
Just because the invention was useless at the time to Nolan, does not mean that it wasn't immensely valuable. Nolan sold the patent for $237 Million to a private investor. This meant that Nolan could finally turn his attention to what he has always wanted -- and what Mindy too has always wanted -- to do as a married couple and as business partners too.
Mindy and Nolan were just months away from publicly announcing their new ambitious business investment. It was the sort of niche, decadently risky business venture that only a millionaire couple, with money to waste, could seriously make a reality. They are both excited to announce their new company's founding and the product line that will, they hope, "change the way we think about metacognition".
The company is to be called "Metaguide", which has the unfortunate (and unforeseen) drawback of sounding like "met a guy," which, predictably, would cause hundreds of marriages to end, for hundreds of men to come out of the closet as gay due to what began as a misheard phrase, and the many young women on dates with charming, handsome men, who would inadvertently, needlessly, break the hearts of the very men that had been intended (by fate? who knew?) to be her future husband.
But those drawbacks were unknown to them at this point, so ethically, these two are not to be judged in any way. They could not have foreseen this unfortunate eventuality, stemming only from the onomastics of their brand. The semiotics of auditory speech were overlooked by almost everybody. Only the dusty offices of professors in English and French Literature departments ever studied, ever mastered, the dark arts of Semiology and Film Semiotics. It wasn't their fault that all of society ignored these genius semioticians. We mustn't hold them in too much contempt for their lack of self-awareness. They were learning. This business venture, in fact, would be an immensely valuable (and ultimately, unjustifiably expensive) educational experience for them.
You see, they had decided to invest, all in, on one ludicrous idea, the sort that, in a show like 'Law and Order', they might say is "just crazy enough to be true," which makes sense only in some fictional logic we agree as viewers to accept. Who they take us for, we readers, is anyone's guess. How does it make sense in any way that the crazy idea, for the fact of its being crazier rather than insufficiently crazy, and that this crazy idea's craziness INCREASES rather than further aggravating, DECREASING, its quality of absolute, recursive lunacy?!
But anyway, their invention was one of those, the crazy enough to work kind. They would manufacture and sell a unique new kind of shoelace, which is an understatement. It was not merely unique, it was an absolutely lavish product that it would be difficult to imagine finding a rational price point.
Still, if you wanted unique, niche application, luxury shoelaces, you could do no better. The laces were woven
Sudowrite continues:
using "thread" (a phrase that should be capitalized, because it's like saying "body of water" or "hill of grass") made out of real antimatter ("a substance formed of subatomic particles traveling at high speeds," Einstein explains). [Constantine]
What this means, to those of us who aren't physicists, is that the antimatter laces could be tied around your sneakers as tightly as you could desire. On a molecular level, the universe's innate gravitational attraction would only serve to bind these laces even more tightly, with such an attractive force that even the most daring world-class rollerblader would not dream of skating until wearing these shoes.
That's what the laces do. That's their one, single, solitary application.
You might say that "who would want such a thing?" The answer would include an ocean of people.
Theoretical physicists would have . . .
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