Chapter 13: Howard's Hacked Robot Arm
Howard Wolowitz was a man who, in his own way, was a genius. He was a man who had built a robot arm that could perform a series of complex tasks, a man who had designed a space toilet for NASA, a man who, in his own way, was a hero. He was also a man who, in his own way, was a dork. A self-proclaimed "ladies' man" with a series of cheesy pickup lines and a love for tight pants. He was a man who, in a world of chaos, was a small, quiet island of comedy. And that, in my own way, made him a perfect target. Because a small, quiet island of comedy, in a world of chaos, is just a target waiting to be hit.
Paige and I were sitting in my office, a look of profound satisfaction on our faces. The "Labyrinthine Lunch" prank had been a masterpiece. Leonard was a mess, and we were the ones who had made him that way. It was a beautiful, chaotic, and incredibly fun thing. But as all great victories come to an end, we had a new target. A new victim. A new… friend.
"Howard's the one," I said, a wide, triumphant grin on my face. "He's the one who's always there to make a joke. He's the one who's always there to try to impress Bernadette. He's the one who, in a world of chaos, is a small, quiet island of comedy. We're going to break him. We're going to break his sanity. We're going to break his spirit."
Paige, a look of genuine concern on her face, looked at me. "Are you sure? He's a good guy. He's a friend. Are we really going to do this to him? He's a funny, sweet, and incredibly good-looking man who deserves a break."
"He's a good guy," I said, a small smile on my face. "He's a friend. But he's also a scientist. He's a man of technology. And we're going to use that against him. We're going to use the System to hack into his robotic arm. We're going to send him on a wild goose chase. A journey into a world of pure, unadulterated chaos."
I opened the System's interface, the holographic screen shimmering with a blue light in front of me. I clicked on the "Technological Manipulation" function and, with a few simple mental commands, I was in. I was in Howard's robotic arm. I was in his technological brain. I was in his… underwear.
I started to work, a small, triumphant grin on my face. I altered the robotic arm's programming, making it perform a series of slapstick antics. I made it try to steal Howard's food. I made it try to change his TV channels to a Spanish soap opera. I made it try to put his underwear on Sheldon's head. It was a beautiful, chaotic, and incredibly fun thing.
Paige, who was watching over my shoulder, let out a small, joyful gasp. "You're a genius," she said, her voice a low, reverent whisper. "That's… that's beautiful. That's a work of art. That's a prank that a god would create."
"I know," I said with a triumphant grin. "And he's going to spend days trying to figure out why his perfect, logical, and beautifully elegant robot arm is a chaotic, nonsensical mess. It's going to be glorious."
The next few hours were a work of art. A beautiful, chaotic mess. Howard, a look of profound confusion on his face, was trying to use his robotic arm to impress Bernadette. He was a man on a mission. He was a man on the verge of a breakthrough. Or so he thought.
"Look, Bernadette," he said, a wide, triumphant grin on his face. "I, with my own two hands, have designed and built a robot arm that can do a series of complex tasks. I can, with a single mental command, make it steal my food, change my TV channels, and even put my underwear on Sheldon's head."
He made a mental command, and the robot arm, in a moment of pure, unadulterated slapstick, tried to steal his food. He looked at the robotic arm, a look of profound confusion on his face. He tried again. The robotic arm, in a moment of pure, unadulterated slapstick, tried to change his TV channels to a Spanish soap opera. He tried again. The robotic arm, in a moment of pure, unadulterated slapstick, tried to put his underwear on Sheldon's head.
The guys, who were watching, were baffled. They were a mess. They were a chaotic, nonsensical mess. They were convinced that the others were cheating. They were convinced that the others were trying to sabotage them. They were convinced that the others were trying to make them look like a dork. And it was a beautiful, beautiful thing to watch.
The robot arm, in a moment of pure, unadulterated slapstick, held up a sign that said, "Howard is a dork." The guys, who were watching, erupted in laughter. Howard, a look of utter defeat on his face, looked at the robotic arm, then at me and Paige, a look of profound resignation on his face. He knew what was going on. He knew who was responsible. And he knew that he was powerless to stop it.
He, in a moment of pure, unadulterated sadness, let out a small, pained sigh and retreated back to his apartment, a defeated man. He was a man who had been through a lot. He had been through a lot of pranks. But this was a new level of pranks. This was a new level of chaos. This was a new level of funny.
I looked at Paige, a wide, triumphant grin on my face. "I think we just won," I said. "I think we just won the game."
"I think we just won the game," she said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "And we didn't even have to lift a single, tiny, insignificant finger."