The James Buchannan Presidency as a Warning;

Sam's notes in his notebook began to take shape. His Protagonist would be a politician who arrived in Washington politically chaste. He would be contradicted by legislative congress, and this would threaten his lifestyle. While re-orienting himself politically, he would be angered at the way his patriotic efforts are twisted to be used against his will. Once this protagonist was re-oriented, he would start winning and acquire a taste for this shit.

Sam pondered whether his hero should ride off into the sunset, or become corrupted to the values of the system in a tragedy. He put a question mark beside this note, and began to contemplate names.

Publius was a good one, but suitable only for fiction - no one could seriously believe that the founding Father's pseudonym was a real character. He made a note to look up baby names, and their derivations.

He consulted his bank balance in his "prudish" browser - the one he ONLY used for online transactions (online cookies were a curse,) and reopened the more promiscuous version again. He soon found the bookmark where he had seen the plot converter for sale. It advertised that it would allow flow-charting of some ridiculous number of characters from incident to incident. Sam estimated that IF he was careful, even he and Travis wouldn't leave any plot holes.

He checked his Google gmail, and noticed Travis was online. He felt like a little cloak and dagger humor anyway, and he hit the online "chat" selection. Travis was terse in his reply. "Open up your 'settings' section and tell it to 'always use https,'" was his first gambit. He duly did the dance. "What does that do Travis?" he asked. Online "Techpublius" responded predictably with the correct response. "It turns on secure socket layer." Sam decided to nudge Travis towards a little better social convention. "Why don't you just tell people that it stands for 'security?'" he asked. Travis let the clock run down a while, just to show he had a life. When he began typing again, Sam saw the indicator, and put down his lemonade. "Well, for one thing Sam, you're not PEOPLE, and for another thing, I _cannot_ ABIDE to LIE!" Sam used CB to certify his response, and indicated that he would become Travis' advocate and spokesman to this end. At Travis' insistence he promised to tell everyone he suggested it to, that it only worked between terminal and server, so that BOTH parties had to use it for it's mathematically optimal use. Practically, this meant "Tell Ursula," and he didn't worry unduly about the commitment. Ursula had a 6th sense about who was dumb and who was smart, and usually told the right people.

Travis had his own agenda. "I want UNICODE passwords Sam, not just for ME, but for EVERYBODY!" Sam turned this over in his brain. UNICODE allowed every character to be represented differently even for FONT. He experimented with 'sending' @ and sent Travis an ASCII 7 beep, by holding down his 'alt' key while he typed in "007." When he released the alt key, the computer dutifully beeped, and Travis cussed him out. "Sam, you're NOT taking me SERIOUSLY," was Travis' complaint. His all-caps were plaintive to the online aficionado. "The first 32 characters are the ONLY ones I think help, and other than that there's just 96. If I make 96 a part of every password I use, they'll just start laughing at me, and call me -96-!"

Sam attempted to be practical. "Well Travis, how on EARTH will you specify a FONT that way?" he began. "For one thing, the computer has to let you ENTER the thing, and for another, you have to figure out a way to write it DOWN! Can you imagine making your password EeEeEEE?" Travis' reply was chastened. "I can sure imagine it Sam, but I agree it'd be HARD to remember for sure. Fact is, it was little challenging just writing that one down. That's why I love conversations in general. I can point out YOUR mistakes, and you can give ME good ideas like THAT." Sam could see that Travis was not quite himself. "All, right then, you figure out how to make a server take 'em and I'll figure out how to ship 'em back and forth over the existing 'net," he promised. "One thing's for sure. 2^32 or 2^64 raised to the power of the length of the password DOES get mathematically intractable even for Astronomical computers. I can see why you'ld like 'em." Travis signed off. "That ought to fix 'em at LEAST till they go quantum," he agreed. "I'd just as soon kick Al Quaida's ass in person ANYWAY!" "Don't take any wooden nickles." "Don't sell any solid copper bullets." He closed the IM window. Travis was a character.

He turned his attention to his script plot again.
- The bad actors will try to assist us with cell phone free zones for peace and quiet, just like hospitals and theaters.

...he wrote. Hmmm... you can't call a theater in anticipation of a fire, but you COULD call 911 from inside, before it took hold. Better take THAT off the list. He'd _have_ a fire in a crowded theater, and his hero's son would get away by yelling "Fire," and then not joining the stampede. He'd stay down until the bodies piled up at the door, and after everyone was either out or dead, he'd take a SCUBA breath and crawl over bodies to safety. The alternative was to have a commanding stranger have everyone make an orderly exit by rows, but as a plot vehicle it was a bust.
- Controlled power outages would be another way to arrange a cell blackout.

He recalled "Eagle Eye," and made a note to watch it critically. It was a compendium of used ideas, and if he duplicated, he'd be subject to libel. On the other hand, if he kept his creativity untainted, he might infer fun ideas FROM it; too bad "Live Free or Die Hard" had taken the whole concept of FIRE SALE.

He noted a good working title. "Milk of Camphor." Probably NEVER get a movie made named "Milk of Camphor," but it would keep them from later rejecting a sentimental favorite.

His reverie was broken by a yell. "Y'all Come!' shouted Ursula. He was _very_ agreeable. A meal would certainly make him feel better.