2.3 - The Royal Society

It was not the winning that made Kath's name with the Royal Society, nor was it the fact that someone several years younger than most of the entrants - not to mention female - had won one of the most prestigious prizes for scientific invention of the age. The thing that really stood out about Kath was the way that she understood circuitry like nobody else alive. She really seemed to be one with the machine.

Or so everybody thought at the time.

Little Kathy had been invited to London to demonstrate her work to an eminent computer scientist, who at the time was excitedly promoting exciting ways of networking academic machines together in Universities, for research purposes. He had heard of this precocious child who lived in a house full of pieces of expensive computers and had thought he would be able to exploit her remarkable mind to help his own causes.

He was wrong.

When the little girl and her father first arrived, they were treated with ridicule and scorn. It was impossible for the bearded collective to imagine this little girl had anything at all to offer, but the scientist was very persuasive and eventually they agreed to give the child an audience, to satisfy their own curiosity for the most part, but also 'just in case'.

Kathy was utterly terrified when the nervous little bald man gave his introductory speech. She did not hear much of it and sat on the stage in the big hall wringing her hands and biting her lip, thinking about the ashen colour of his voice and the way each enthusiastic word spiked into the air like a tiny firework. Once the anticipatory applause had picked up and then died away, her father leaned over.

'Okay love,' he whispered, 'just like you showed me last night. Everything you need is there on the table.'

'I'm scared!' she said.

'Don't worry, pumpkin.' Her father squeezed her hand comfortingly. 'You have something very special to share today, don't you? I'm right here, I promise I won't leave your side.' He stood up and held out his hand. 'Come on, I'll buy you an ice cream after.'

They stepped up to the table together. There was nothing remarkable on it, a standard IBM 486 computer. One of the ones with the new VGA colour screen, some electronics equipment (diodes, capacitors, wires) and various tools.

The computer was switched on and the audience were treated to the familiar sight of the windowed operating system starting up, projected onto a large screen behind the couple on the stage. Kathy and her father played a quick game of Reversi to show this was indeed just an ordinary computer and there was polite applause when Kathy won easily, then chuckles when she ordered her father to begin dismantling the large white case.

The next half an hour was a blur of activity, wiring and soldering during which the little girl chattered away, explaining what she was doing in minute detail. She did not refer to any notes, or take guidance from her father, but merely spoke quickly in her sing-song voice, using the special language the two of them had created in order to make sense of the shapes and colours she could see and nobody else could.

She had the feeling that not one of the people in the room really knew what she was talking about, but their eyes remained glued to the big screen, which was now showing a bird's eye view of the workbench, computer parts laid out neatly like an exploded technical diagram. She knew her descriptions often left out many crucial details, but in the end it was impossible to argue with the results. For now she would have to try and ignore the pained looks and impatient coughing.

Kathy finished by carefully placing the monitor back onto the desktop facing the audience. She picked up a microphone she had plugged into the back of the machine, which now looked like it was being attacked by a swarm of snakes, or several octopi. She held the microphone up to her lips nervously, she had been so busy building and chatting that she had forgotten where she was.

The little girl looked up at her beaming father and he took her hand reassuringly.

'Go ahead, love,' he said, squeezing her fingers. She shut her eyes for a moment, then spoke loudly into the microphone.

'Hello Unicorn,' Kathy said.

The screen flickered on and briefly filled with rows of text. The text was quickly replaced by a swirling whirlpool of rainbow colours that resolved into the image of a face, looking as if it were pressed against an undulating sheet of brightly coloured silk.

'HELLO WORLD,' the face said, pixellated lips forming an impressive approximation of the words, the voice a caustically grating electronic sound. Kathy winced. She would have to work on that.

'My name is Kathy.'

'HELLO KATHY, YOU MAY CALL ME UNICORN.'

'I am very pleased to meet you,' said Kathy, 'I would like to introduce you to the members of the Royal Society.' The multi-coloured eyes on the screen seemed to wander round the room and there was not a man there who did not feel in his bones that the machine was looking at him.

'IT IS AN HONOUR TO MEET YOU, THE ROYAL SOCIETY.'

The applause was deafening.