crn files belonged to an obscure little program called CoadRunner, coad as in code but also road without the r. Go down to Lazlo’s and have a couple of burgers.” And Talk, he didn’t add.Ī Google search on the computer that could handle the browsers that could handle the internet–that’s to say, not the Quadra–told me that. “I was thinking that we could have a night out, the two of us. With Dad, sometimes if you just repeat a few of his phrases, he’ll think you’re having a conversation. “I’m a bit busy, Dad.” I wasn’t paying attention, not even to the way my shoulders knotted up. It had one file in it, a 77Mb document named SELDON.crn.ĭad knocked on my door.
It was an early drive and an early disk, and it made a lot of noise for 100 megs, but it worked pretty well.
Bbedit blood bowl zip#
I turned on the zip drive, booted up the computer, and stuck the disk in. I couldn’t think what she’d want to burn. She wanted me to tell her about girlfriends and classes and any juvenile delinquency I got into, and she told me about alcohol and sex and everything Dad didn’t want to talk about, like the time she got busted sneaking into a topless bar. Whatever the original label said had been worked over in sharpie, and the new label read only BURN THIS DISK.Īndy was always open with me–ten years older and thinking she could tell me the secrets of life. It’d been stuck between the pages, not fit into one of the pockets, and that was weird, considering Andy. I opened one case and a disc fell out, dropping between the wheels on my chair. I was just looking through Andy’s zip disks, thinking about her. Andy loved how the air smelled after it rained I didn’t smell anything.
Bbedit blood bowl cracked#
I sat at my desk, feet jammed between the Quadra’s tower and my Dell’s, window cracked to let in the wet air. While Dad Talked through my door about coming to terms with our grief and coming together as a family and letting go, I was bent over with the edge of the desk cutting into my chest, holding a flashlight in my mouth, trying to screw the monitor’s cord into the tower. Why? Andy had some overclocked Alienware monstrosity with aspirations of becoming Skynet for her serious work, but the Quadra was her baby. I spent hours unsnarling cables and coaxing life into a machine obsolete since the late ’90s. I spent that weekend avoiding my father (who thought we needed to Talk with a capital T) by setting up the Quadra on a corner of my desk, which turned into half my desk and most of my legroom. I kept a case of zip disks, a zip drive, and the ancient Mac Quadra she used them on. Dad kept her highschool soccer medals and her autographed copy of Neuromancer. My uncle came in to help Dad and me go through her stuff, weaning us from box after box sent to Goodwills or donated to advocacy raffles, but Dad and I both kept things. My sister Andrea died in a bicycle-car collision when I was 16.
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