Argument

Transform XML into a Javascript object

2007-11-02T16:21:17Z

After the Wordpress editor crashed all three of my browsers (Firefox, IE, Opera), I decided to say "screw it" and post here instead of the blog I made for the stuff that's boring to the public at large.

I’ve been looking for a Javascript way to navigate through an XML document like an object. That is, I wanted to take an XML document returned from an AJAX request (eg:

<book>
  <author>
     <name>Miguel</name>
  </author>
  <title>Hello</title>
</book>

), and go through it by saying something like “book.author.name”. Surprisingly, it was very difficult to find a solution–or more accurately, impossible. I had figured that this was something someone would have invented long ago, but I actually couldn't any implementations of this idea. I ended up writing my own function, and I’ve posted it below. (I realize that I could have saved effort by using JSON instead, but XML I don't think you'll always be able to get a JSON representation for a project)

I get the impression that this function is going to be slow–I put each node into an array (in case there are multiple nodes with the same name), and afterwards, flatten any arrays of length 1. However, I don't think it's slow enough to have any visible effect on small files (you have no business doing it with big files anyhow!). Any comments are welcome, as this code probably has shortcomings. For starters, it will flatten any array of length 1, even if it makes more sense to keep it as an array (eg: a grocery list consisting of one item should still be an array). Also, this code gets attributes as well, so be sure not to have any conflicting names. I'm sure there I made other unsafe assumptions, but for now, it works on Firefox, Opera, and IE.

    function createObj(xml) {
        var obj = {};
        if(xml.attributes) {
            for(var j = 0; j < xml.attributes.length; j++) {
                obj[xml.attributes[j].name] = xml.attributes[j].value;
            }
        }
        for(var i = 0; i < xml.childNodes.length; i++) {
            var x = xml.childNodes[i];
            /* Note: IE and Opera do not define Node or its constants. You'll need to define them yourself
             * for the benefit of said browsers.
             * 
             * Meanwhile, the childNodes.length check is there because Firefox counts any whitespace as text nodes.
             * This function, then, will only work on the assumption that "real" text nodes are the lone content
             * of their parents.
             */
            if ((x.nodeType == Node.TEXT_NODE && xml.childNodes.length == 1)) {
                return x.nodeValue;
            }
            if (x.nodeType == Node.ELEMENT_NODE) {
                // Assume a child node consisting of the empty string if there are no further children.
                if (x.childNodes.length == 0) {
                    return "";
                }
                if (!obj[x.nodeName]) {
                    obj[x.nodeName] = $A();
                }
                obj[x.nodeName][obj[x.nodeName].length] = createObj(x);
            }
        }

        for(var a in obj) {
            if(obj[a] instanceof Array && obj[a].length == 1) {
                obj[a] = obj[a][0];
            }
        }
        return obj;
    }

cmarguel @ 2007-10-08T22:23:00

2007-10-08T14:52:13Z

I saw the classiest DS Lite today. With a US retail price of $150, I think PhP 8800 is a fairly good price for it, considering it comes with Brain Age 2, a carrying case, and a fairly sexy color scheme. I'm not really the sort of guy who'd spend good money just for a better looking version of something I have, but replacing my DS Phat with it would have practical advantages.

I could play at any time. Technically, you could do this with the DS Phat, but the backlight is so dim that the sun actually DROWNS OUT your game. Contrast this with a DS Lite, which uses some sort of nuclear core for each screen.
It's smaller. Not by much, but it's compact enough to fit in my pocket comfortably. Plus it comes with that nifty carrying case which makes it look like you're an adult by merely holding it.

Anyway, if anyone wants to buy my current DS from me, I can let it go at a negotiable PhP 6000. I'm not sure if my homebrew kit (Supercard plus Superkey, DS is NOT modded) is compatible with the DSL, so if it turns out that it isn't, I can include that in the package for a total of 9000 bucks. Now, you might wonder: why would you pay that much for my DS?

It's harder to play in the sunlight. This will instill discipline, and encourage you to work or study during the day, rather than waste time capturing Pokemon.
It's bigger. Christ, have you seen that DS Lite? It's so tiny that you probably wouldn't notice if you lost it until it was too late. Plus it doesn't need some gay carrying case; it can survive scratches all by its lonesome with its hard and durable casing.

So if you're interested, get in touch with an offer and I'll hook you up.

cmarguel @ 2007-10-08T12:11:00

2007-10-08T05:27:27Z

It took me the longest time to get Python's MySQLdb library running on Cygwin. Since I technically didn't have Python installed (it wasn't in the Windows registry), I couldn't use the binary provided on Sourceforge. I had to build it from source, but several problems got in the way. I'm blogging the process in case anyone else gets the problem (I found the ultimate solution on some random forum which is tucked deep in the the search results).

mysql_config could not be found as it wasn't on my path. I had to edit one of the cfg files in the MySQLdb directory to find it. (I think it was site.cfg)
I then had to edit mysql_config itself because it wasn't outputting the correct paths. That actually didn't work, so I just copied the libs and includes from the MySQL folder into the paths specified by mysql_config.
I couldn't just rename config-win.h into my_config.h--I got a lot of compile errors. I ended up downloading someone's copy of my_config.h off the internet (and editing out a line which was including some local file of his)
Removed the -lnsl link (or something like that) that mysql_config was including. I hope this doesn't impact anything, but some of my search results showed people removing it safely.
I compiled it with thread safety off. I'm not sure if the thread safety version works on cygwin.
This last one was the trickiest and took hours. I was getting a lot of permission denied errors. After chmodding just about everything related to MySQLdb (I didn't think chmod even made sense on a FAT file system), I found out that mysql.dll was getting cached in HOME/.python_eggs, and that's the dll the module was actually using. I chmodded it +x and FINALLY everything worked.

Reading over this entry, it is quite boring and maybe I should just put this sort of thing on a separate blog.

cmarguel @ 2007-10-05T11:18:00

2007-10-05T03:23:32Z

Just attention whoring here but I decided to register a blog for talking about what I was talking about in my last entry, and it's right here: http://phillippinos.blogspot.com.

cmarguel @ 2007-08-21T22:14:00

2007-08-21T15:23:45Z

Well, I guess everyone on the blogosphere is up in arms over Malu Fernandez, and I thARRRGH JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU STUPID GITS

Leave it to the Philippine "blogosphere" to get all riled up the moment someone says something bad about Filipinos. It's fucking ridiculous; people are making a big deal over nothing. Everyone has something bad to say about their country and countrymen, and I doubt any of those things are any more fair than Malu's remarks. So she put her foot in her mouth, or has Tourette Syndrome or something. Big deal. This isn't patriotism, it's nothing but an embarrassing display of mob mentality. ONLINE mob mentality. Way to put yourselves at the level of Harry Potter shippers, guys. You're not exactly doing our image any favors by being all immature about it.

I mean, even Manuel Quezon III is getting into the act. While I'm glad someone disagrees with this fellow and his campaign, I'm disappointed that he followed it up with a terribly unfunny caption contest. Not only is this ridiculous meme in bad taste, but it's completely devoid of anything resembling humor. Believe it or not, getting pictures of the writer and insulting her appearance are not a road to instant comedy. What's next on your agenda, guys? A Photoshop contest? Great! Let's show this bitch just how mature we REALLY are!

What goes on in the mind of the blogger? I can't help but imagine someone shaking his fist in anger, shouting loudly in his mind, "hey guys hey look over there someone just talked trash about the motherland, LET'S GET HER! PHILIPPINE DEFENSE FORCE ASSEMBLE!"

What we need is not gruesome parody. What we need is not some sort of punitive measures. What we need is to CHILL THE FUCK OUT RARRGHH BECAUSE YOU PEOPLE ARE DRIVING ME TO THE EDGE OF INSANITY

See also:
Claire Danes goes to Manila
Americans eat at Jollibee
I'm somewhat ashamed of ever making this one, in retrospect

edit: Congratulations, bloggers. You sure showed her. Are you now going to start blogging about your victory over this week's greatest evil? I guess I have yet another event to append to filipinos.txt.

edit 2:
Here you all go: philippine-defense-squad.txt
Special mention to Dom, whose comments I partially copy-pasted.

cmarguel @ 2007-08-16T14:16:00

2007-08-16T06:24:03Z

Hey everyone! Hey! I have this great idea that I'm sure would take off and make a lot of money if done right, but it's not something I want to associate myself with, so I'm giving it to whomever wants it, in exchange for royalties.

The target demographic is: approximately 70% of white-collar workers. The product idea is: coffee-flavored cigarettes.

I neither drink coffee nor smoke so someone had better hurry and follow up on this idea then give me a 20% cut of the profits. That is all.

cmarguel @ 2007-07-22T00:21:00

2007-07-21T16:30:40Z

Mark blogged recently about how he reviewed some potato chips, and how its makers, Fukuda, saw the entry and sent him 63 boxes of their various products. Mark went on to give the advice:

I was left in shock and awe after opening both boxes. I simply could not believe my good fortune. Their contents exceeded all expectations, and then some. If this story of mine does not inspire you to go out there and blog about whatever it is you are passionate about, then I do not know what will.

Ahem... the Wii by Nintendo, the Sony Playstation 3, and the Microsoft X-Box 360 are all really great, and I'm really passionate about the video game industry.

Ok, Nintendo, Sony, and Microsoft. I reviewed your products. Come on, guys. Fill 'er up!

Mystery

2006-11-06T05:30:08Z

Last Thursday, the internet connection at my house went down for the nth time. I, of course, attributed it to PLDT being totally worthless, just as they had continually proven over the years. However, the problem was much worse than I initially thought.

When I got home from the office, I tried connecting to the internet to see what would happen. Much to my surprise, the Linksys wireless router has ceased responding. I did not even want to think that my third, brand new, router had gone down so soon. It was plausible, however, due to the power fluctuations that we experienced during the recent typhoon. I restarted it, with some success. To my chagrin, it quickly disconnected itself not a minute later. I tried connecting to the internet directly, in hopes that I could bypass the router. I remained connected for much longer, but I nevertheless ended up disconnected many minutes later.

It was only then that I noticed that the light on the DSL modem was blinking on and off. Was something wrong with the DSL modem itself? This appeared to be the case. I lifted my phone off its receiver, and was greeted with loud static. I noticed then that even the act of lifting the receiver would cause the modem light to simply blink out; it was a horrible thing, hearkening back to the days of dial-up networking. Perhaps, then, the wireless router was going down due to some sort of corrupt data passing through the DSL modem. Nevertheless, it was clear that whether it was the modem or the line, the problem was something that was PLDT's responsibility to fix. Satisfied, I sat back down and used the computers.

My problems were not to end there, however. Disconnected from the internet, I tried using the computer. Again, the wireless router quit on me. I lifted what remained of my bloodied head (a sad after-effect of shooting yourself in the face) and tried to figure out what the problem was.

Until that point, I was wondering why every single facet of my home network seemed to have gone down. It hit me then. I had made all my diagnoses on a horrifyingly flawed premise: that there was only one problem. There was no question that PLDT's lines were broken, but there was a second problem. Quickly, I opened up a Cygwin console.

netstat

Hundreds of connections to several IP addresses popped out at me. The packets being sent were labelled "microsoft-ds" and "netbios-ssn". It doesn't take a networking guru to figure it out from there. I don't know how it happened, but the second problem was now clear. I had been hit by worms. Worse, it turned out that my firewall had somehow been uninstalled.

To this day, I run anti-virus scans every night, hoping to eliminate the threat that has installed itself on my property. It is a Sisyphean struggle at best, but I do what I must do. Sad to say, there is no happy ending here, at least not yet. There is not even a moral. There is only me, rambling like a madman, trying to convey in a thousand words the very same emotions encompassed in a single picture:

cmarguel @ 2006-10-02T00:31:00

2006-10-01T16:32:07Z

TRAPPED IN BLACKOUT STOP SEND HELP STOP

cmarguel @ 2006-09-19T17:33:00

2006-09-19T09:35:42Z

If anybody tries to speak like a pirate to me today, I will stab him or her in the face (over the internet).

cmarguel @ 2006-09-04T13:13:00

2006-09-04T05:14:40Z

Steve Irwin dies of stingray barb through chest
oh god, steve...
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
This is made worse by the fact that his wife is hiking up a mountain and does not yet know. Amazing. Millions of Internet denizens will know about it before she does.

I just heard this story

2006-08-12T06:40:28Z

So, there's a man crawling through the desert.

He'd decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, had
great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit a
big rock, and then he couldn't get it started again. There were no cell
phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family,
his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his few
friends had no idea he was out here.

He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran out
and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, now
that he'd paid attention to the sun and thought he'd figured out which way
was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to go
about 30 miles or so and he'd be back to the small town he'd gotten gas in
last.

He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based upon
how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no
flashlight, he's afraid that he'll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So,
he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication
later, brings an umbrella he'd had in the back of the SUV with him to give
him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottle
in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds a
cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the
direction he thinks is right.

He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day he's really thirsty. He's
been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. He's reapplied
the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feels
sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocket
is really getting tempting now. He knows that it's mainly water and some
ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison to
it to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the poison is, and
whether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst.

He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark.

By the end of the day he starts getting worried. He figures he's been
walking at least 3 miles an hour, according to his watch for over 10 hours.
That means that if his estimate was right that he should be close to the
town. But he doesn't recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek bed
a mile or two back, and he doesn't remember coming through it in the SUV. He
figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the dry
creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that he's
close, and that after dark he'll start seeing the town lights over one of
these hills, and that'll be all he needs.

As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things,
he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights.

Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands back
up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars.

He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummy
and his mouth and nose feel like they're full of sand. He so thirsty that he
can't even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. He'd
forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadn't noticed it the
night before because he'd been in his car.

He knows the Rule of Threes - three minutes without air, three days without
water, three weeks without food - then you die. Some people can make it a
little longer, in the best situations. But the desert heat and having to
walk and sweat isn't the best situation to be without water. He figures,
unless he finds water, this is his last day.

He rinses his mouth out with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He
waits a while after spitting that little bit out, to see if his mouth goes
numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just in
his mind? He's not sure. He'll go a little farther, and if he still doesn't
find water, he'll try drinking some of the fluid.

Then he has to face his next, harder question - which way does he go from
here? Does he keep walking the same way he was yesterday (assuming that he
still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has no
idea what to do.

Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the direction
he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhat
to the left of that, and starts walking.

As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a couple
of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first,
and then stops. He starts getting worried at that - when you stop sweating
he knows that means you're in trouble - usually right before heat stroke.

He decides that it's time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He can't wait
any longer - if he passes out, he's dead. He stops in the shade of a large
rock, takes the bottle out, opens it, and takes a mouthful. He slowly
swallows it, making it last as long as he can. It feels so good in his dry
and cracked throat that he doesn't even care about the nasty taste. He takes
another mouthful, and makes it last too. Slowly, he drinks half the bottle.
He figures that since he's drinking it, he might as well drink enough to
make some difference and keep himself from passing out.

He's quit worrying about the denaturing of the wiper fluid. If it kills him,
it kills him - if he didn't drink it, he'd die anyway. Besides, he's pretty
sure that whatever substance they denature the fluid with is just designed
to make you sick - their way of keeping winos from buying cheap wiper fluid
for the ethanol content. He can handle throwing up, if it comes to that.

He walks. He walks in the hot, dry, windless desert. Sand, rocks, hills,
dunes, the occasional scrawny cactus or dried bush. No sign of water.
Sometimes he'll see a little movement to one side or the other, but whatever
moved is usually gone before he can focus his eyes on it. Probably birds,
lizards, or mice. Maybe snakes, though they usually move more at night. He's
careful to stay away from the movements.

After a while, he begins to stagger. He's not sure if it's fatigue, heat
stroke finally catching him, or maybe he was wrong and the denaturing of the
wiper fluid was worse than he thought. He tries to steady himself, and keep
going.

After more walking, he comes to a large stretch of sand. This is good! He
knows he passed over a stretch of sand in the SUV - he remembers doing
donuts in it. Or at least he thinks he remembers it - he's getting woozy
enough and tired enough that he's not sure what he remembers any more or if
he's hallucinating. But he thinks he remembers it. So he heads off into it,
trying to get to the other side, hoping that it gets him closer to the town.

He was heading for a town, wasn't he? He thinks he was. He isn't sure any
more. He's not even sure how long he's been walking any more. Is it still
morning? Or has it moved into afternoon and the sun is going down again? It
must be afternoon - it seems like it's been too long since he started out.

He walks through the sand.

After a while, he comes to a big dune in the sand. This is bad. He doesn't
remember any dunes when driving over the sand in his SUV. Or at least he
doesn't think he remembers any. This is bad.

But, he has no other direction to go. Too late to turn back now. He figures
that he'll get to the top of the dune and see if he can see anything from
there that helps him find the town. He keeps going up the dune.

Halfway up, he slips in the bad footing of the sand for the second or third
time, and falls to his knees. He doesn't feel like getting back up - he'll
just fall down again. So, he keeps going up the dune on his hand and knees.

While crawling, if his throat weren't so dry, he'd laugh. He's finally
gotten to the hackneyed image of a man lost in the desert - crawling through
the sand on his hands and knees. If would be the perfect image, he imagines,
if only his clothes were more ragged. The people crawling through the desert
in the cartoons always had ragged clothes. But his have lasted without any
rips so far. Somebody will probably find his dessicated corpse half buried
in the sand years from now, and his clothes will still be in fine shape -
shake the sand out, and a good wash, and they'd be wearable again. He wishes
his throat were wet enough to laugh. He coughs a little instead, and it
hurts.

He finally makes it to the top of the sand dune. Now that he's at the top,
he struggles a little, but manages to stand up and look around. All he sees
is sand. Sand, and more sand. Behind him, about a mile away, he thinks he
sees the rocky ground he left to head into this sand. Ahead of him, more
dunes, more sand. This isn't where he drove his SUV. This is Hell. Or close
enough.

Again, he doesn't know what to do. He decides to drink the rest of the wiper
fluid while figuring it out. He takes out the bottle, and is removing the
cap, when he glances to the side and sees something. Something in the sand.
At the bottom of the dune, off to the side, he sees something strange. It's
a flat area, in the sand. He stops taking the cap of the bottle off, and
tries to look closer. The area seems to be circular. And it's dark - darker
than the sand. And, there seems to be something in the middle of it, but he
can't tell what it is. He looks as hard as he can, and still can tell from
here. He's going to have to go down there and look.

He puts the bottle back in his pocket, and starts to stumble down the dune.
After a few steps, he realizes that he's in trouble - he's not going to be
able to keep his balance. After a couple of more sliding, tottering steps,
he falls and starts to roll down the dune. The sand it so hot when his body
hits it that for a minute he thinks he's caught fire on the way down - like
a movie car wreck flashing into flames as it goes over the cliff, before it
ever even hits the ground. He closes his eyes and mouth, covers his face
with his hands, and waits to stop rolling.

He stops, at the bottom of the dune. After a minute or two, he finds enough
energy to try to sit up and get the sand out of his face and clothes. When
he clears his eyes enough, he looks around to make sure that the dark spot
in the sand it still there and he hadn't just imagined it.

So, seeing the large, flat, dark spot on the sand is still there, he begins
to crawl towards it. He'd get up and walk towards it, but he doesn't seem to
have the energy to get up and walk right now. He must be in the final stages
of dehydration he figures, as he crawls. If this place in the sand doesn't
have water, he'll likely never make it anywhere else. This is his last
chance.

He gets closer and closer, but still can't see what's in the middle of the
dark area. His eyes won't quite focus any more for some reason. And lifting
his head up to look takes so much effort that he gives up trying. He just
keeps crawling.

Finally, he reaches the area he'd seen from the dune. It takes him a minute
of crawling on it before he realizes that he's no longer on sand - he's now
crawling on some kind of dark stone. Stone with some kind of marking on it -
a pattern cut into the stone. He's too tired to stand up and try to see what
the pattern is - so he just keeps crawling. He crawls towards the center,
where his blurry eyes still see something in the middle of the dark stone
area.

His mind, detached in a strange way, notes that either his hands and knees
are so burnt by the sand that they no longer feel pain, or that this dark
stone, in the middle of a burning desert with a pounding, punishing sun
overhead, doesn't seem to be hot. It almost feels cool. He considers lying
down on the nice cool surface.

Cool, dark stone. Not a good sign. He must be hallucinating this. He's
probably in the middle of a patch of sand, already lying face down and
dying, and just imagining this whole thing. A desert mirage. Soon the
beautiful women carrying pitchers of water will come up and start giving him
a drink. Then he'll know he's gone.

He decides against laying down on the cool stone. If he's going to die here
in the middle of this hallucination, he at least wants to see what's in the
center before he goes. He keeps crawling.

It's the third time that he hears the voice before he realizes what he's
hearing. He would swear that someone just said, "Greetings, traveler. You do
not look well. Do you hear me?"

He stops crawling. He tries to look up from where he is on his hands and
knees, but it's too much effort to lift his head. So he tries something
different - he leans back and tries to sit up on the stone. After a few
seconds, he catches his balance, avoids falling on his face, sits up, and
tries to focus his eyes. Blurry. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hands
and tries again. Better this time.

Yep. He can see. He's sitting in the middle of a large, flat, dark expanse
of stone. Directly next to him, about three feet away, is a white post or
pole about two inches in diameter and sticking up about four or five feet
out of the stone, at an angle.

And wrapped around this white rod, tail with rattle on it hovering and
seeming to be ready to start rattling, is what must be a fifteen foot long
desert diamondback rattlesnake, looking directly at him.

He stares at the snake in shock. He doesn't have the energy to get up and
run away. He doesn't even have the energy to crawl away. This is it, his
final resting place. No matter what happens, he's not going to be able to
move from this spot.

Well, at least dying of a bite from this monster should be quicker than
dying of thirst. He'll face his end like a man. He struggles to sit up a
little straighter. The snake keeps watching him. He lifts one hand and waves
it in the snake's direction, feebly. The snake watches the hand for a
moment, then goes back to watching the man, looking into his eyes.

Hmmm. Maybe the snake had no interest in biting him? It hadn't rattled yet -
that was a good sign. Maybe he wasn't going to die of snake bite after all.

He then remembers that he'd looked up when he'd reached the center here
because he thought he'd heard a voice. He was still very woozy - he was
likely to pass out soon, the sun still beat down on him even though he was
now on cool stone. He still didn't have anything to drink. But maybe he had
actually heard a voice. This stone didn't look natural. Nor did that white
post sticking up out of the stone. Someone had to have built this. Maybe
they were still nearby. Maybe that was who talked to him. Maybe this snake
was even their pet, and that's why it wasn't biting.

He tries to clear his throat to say, "Hello," but his throat is too dry. All
that comes out is a coughing or wheezing sound. There is no way he's going
to be able to talk without something to drink. He feels his pocket, and the
bottle with the wiper fluid is still there. He shakily pulls the bottle out,
almost losing his balance and falling on his back in the process. This isn't
good. He doesn't have much time left, by his reckoning, before he passes
out.

He gets the lid off of the bottle, manages to get the bottle to his lips,
and pours some of the fluid into his mouth. He sloshes it around, and then
swallows it. He coughs a little. His throat feels better. Maybe he can talk
now.

He tries again. Ignoring the snake, he turns to look around him, hoping to
spot the owner of this place, and croaks out, "Hello? Is there anyone here?"

He hears, from his side, "Greetings. What is it that you want?"

He turns his head, back towards the snake. That's where the sound had seemed
to come from. The only thing he can think of is that there must be a
speaker, hidden under the snake, or maybe built into that post. He decides
to try asking for help.

"Please," he croaks again, suddenly feeling dizzy, "I'd love to not be
thirsty any more. I've been a long time without water. Can you help me?"

Looking in the direction of the snake, hoping to see where the voice was
coming from this time, he is shocked to see the snake rear back, open its
mouth, and speak. He hears it say, as the dizziness overtakes him and he
falls forward, face first on the stone, "Very well. Coming up."

A piercing pain shoots through his shoulder. Suddenly he is awake. He sits
up and grabs his shoulder, wincing at the throbbing pain. He's momentarily
disoriented as he looks around, and then he remembers - the crawl across the
sand, the dark area of stone, the snake. He sees the snake, still wrapped
around the tilted white post, still looking at him.

He reaches up and feels his shoulder, where it hurts. It feels slightly wet.
He pulls his fingers away and looks at them - blood. He feels his shoulder
again - his shirt has what feels like two holes in it - two puncture holes -
they match up with the two aching spots of pain on his shoulder. He had been
bitten. By the snake.

"It'll feel better in a minute." He looks up - it's the snake talking. He
hadn't dreamed it. Suddenly he notices - he's not dizzy any more. And more
importantly, he's not thirsty any more - at all!

"Have I died? Is this the afterlife? Why are you biting me in the
afterlife?"

"Sorry about that, but I had to bite you," says the snake. "That's the way I
work. It all comes through the bite. Think of it as natural medicine."

"You bit me to help me? Why aren't I thirsty any more? Did you give me a
drink before you bit me? How did I drink enough while unconscious to not be
thirsty any more? I haven't had a drink for over two days. Well, except for
the windshield wiper fluid... hold it, how in the world does a snake talk?
Are you real? Are you some sort of Disney animation?"
"No," says the snake, "I'm real. As real as you or anyone is, anyway. I
didn't give you a drink. I bit you. That's how it works - it's what I do. I
bite. I don't have hands to give you a drink, even if I had water just
sitting around here."

The man sat stunned for a minute. Here he was, sitting in the middle of the
desert on some strange stone that should be hot but wasn't, talking to a
snake that could talk back and had just bitten him. And he felt better. Not
great - he was still starving and exhausted, but much better - he was no
longer thirsty. He had started to sweat again, but only slightly. He felt
hot, in this sun, but it was starting to get lower in the sky, and the cool
stone beneath him was a relief he could notice now that he was no longer
dying of thirst.

"I might suggest that we take care of that methanol you now have in your
system with the next request," continued the snake. "I can guess why you
drank it, but I'm not sure how much you drank, or how much methanol was left
in the wiper fluid. That stuff is nasty. It'll make you go blind in a day or
two, if you drank enough of it."

"Ummm, n-next request?" said the man. He put his hand back on his hurting
shoulder and backed away from the snake a little.

"That's the way it works. If you like, that is," explained the snake. "You
get three requests. Call them wishes, if you wish." The snake grinned at his
own joke, and the man drew back a little further from the show of fangs.

"But there are rules," the snake continued. "The first request is free. The
second requires an agreement of secrecy. The third requires the binding of
responsibility." The snake looks at the man seriously.

"By the way," the snake says suddenly, "my name is Nathan. Old Nathan,
Samuel used to call me. He gave me the name. Before that, most of the Bound
used to just call me 'Snake'. But that got old, and Samuel wouldn't stand
for it. He said that anything that could talk needed a name. He was big into
names. You can call me Nate, if you wish." Again, the snake grinned. "Sorry
if I don't offer to shake, but I think you can understand - my shake sounds
somewhat threatening." The snake give his rattle a little shake.

"Umm, my name is Jack," said the man, trying to absorb all of this. "Jack
Samson.

"Can I ask you a question?" Jack says suddenly. "What happened to the
poison...umm, in your bite. Why aren't I dying now? How did you do that?
What do you mean by that's how you work?"

"That's more than one question," grins Nate. "But I'll still try to answer
all of them. First, yes, you can ask me a question." The snake's grin gets
wider. "Second, the poison is in you. It changed you. You now no longer need
to drink. That's what you asked for. Or, well, technically, you asked to not
be thirsty any more - but 'any more' is such a vague term. I decided to make
it permanent - now, as long as you live, you shouldn't need to drink much at
all. Your body will conserve water very efficiently. You should be able to
get enough just from the food you eat - much like a creature of the desert.
You've been changed.

"For the third question," Nate continues, "you are still dying. Besides the
effects of that methanol in your system, you're a man - and men are mortal.
In your current state, I give you no more than about another 50 years.
Assuming you get out of this desert, alive, that is." Nate seemed vastly
amused at his own humor, and continued his wide grin.

"As for the fourth question," Nate said, looking more serious as far as Jack
could tell, as Jack was just now working on his ability to read
talking-snake emotions from snake facial features, "first you have to agree
to make a second request and become bound by the secrecy, or I can't tell
you."

"Wait," joked Jack, "isn't this where you say you could tell me, but you'd
have to kill me?"

"I thought that was implied." Nate continued to look serious.

"Ummm...yeah." Jack leaned back a little as he remembered again that he was
talking to a fifteen foot poisonous reptile with a reputation for having a
nasty temper. "So, what is this 'Bound by Secrecy' stuff, and can you really
stop the effects of the methanol?" Jack thought for a second. "And, what do
you mean methanol, anyway? I thought these days they use ethanol in wiper
fluid, and just denature it?"

"They may, I don't really know," said Nate. "I haven't gotten out in a
while. Maybe they do. All I know is that I smell methanol on your breath and
on that bottle in your pocket. And the blue color of the liquid when you
pulled it out to drink some let me guess that it was wiper fluid. I assume
that they still color wiper fluid blue?"

"Yeah, they do," said Jack.

"I figured," replied Nate. "As for being bound by secrecy - with the
fulfillment of your next request, you will be bound to say nothing about me,
this place, or any of the information I will tell you after that, when you
decide to go back out to your kind. You won't be allowed to talk about me,
write about me, use sign language, charades, or even act in a way that will
lead someone to guess correctly about me. You'll be bound to secrecy. Of
course, I'll also ask you to promise not to give me away, and as I'm
guessing that you're a man of your word, you'll never test the binding
anyway, so you won't notice." Nate said the last part with utter confidence.

Jack, who had always prided himself on being a man of his word, felt a
little nervous at this. "Ummm, hey, Nate, who are you? How did you know
that? Are you, umm, omniscient, or something?"

Well, Jack," said Nate sadly, "I can't tell you that, unless you make the
second request." Nate looked away for a minute, then looked back.

"Umm, well, ok," said Jack, "what is this about a second request? What can I
ask for? Are you allowed to tell me that?"

"Sure!" said Nate, brightening. "You're allowed to ask for changes. Changes
to yourself. They're like wishes, but they can only affect you. Oh, and
before you ask, I can't give you immortality. Or omniscience. Or
omnipresence, for that matter. Though I might be able to make you gaseous
and yet remain alive, and then you could spread through the atmosphere and
sort of be omnipresent. But what good would that be - you still wouldn't be
omniscient and thus still could only focus on one thing at a time. Not very
useful, at least in my opinion." Nate stopped when he realized that Jack was
staring at him.

"Well, anyway," continued Nate, "I'd probably suggest giving you permanent
good health. It would negate the methanol now in your system, you'd be
immune to most poisons and diseases, and you'd tend to live a very long
time, barring accident, of course. And you'll even have a tendency to
recover from accidents well. It always seemed like a good choice for a
request to me."

"Cure the methanol poisoning, huh?" said Jack. "And keep me healthy for a
long time? Hmmm. It doesn't sound bad at that. And it has to be a request
about a change to me? I can't ask to be rich, right? Because that's not
really a change to me?"

"Right," nodded Nate.

"Could I ask to be a genius and permanently healthy?" Jack asked, hopefully.

"That takes two requests, Jack."

"Yeah, I figured so," said Jack. "But I could ask to be a genius? I could
become the smartest scientist in the world? Or the best athlete?"

"Well, I could make you very smart," admitted Nate, "but that wouldn't
necessarily make you the best scientist in the world. Or, I could make you
very athletic, but it wouldn't necessarily make you the best athlete either.
You've heard the saying that 99% of genius is hard work? Well, there's some
truth to that. I can give you the talent, but I can't make you work hard. It
all depends on what you decide to do with it."

"Hmmm," said Jack. "Ok, I think I understand. And I get a third request,
after this one?"

"Maybe," said Nate, "it depends on what you decide then. There are more
rules for the third request that I can only tell you about after the second
request. You know how it goes." Nate looked like he'd shrug, if he had
shoulders.

"Ok, well, since I'd rather not be blind in a day or two, and permanent
health doesn't sound bad, then consider that my second request. Officially.
Do I need to sign in blood or something?"

"No," said Nate. "Just hold out your hand. Or heel." Nate grinned. "Or
whatever part you want me to bite. I have to bite you again. Like I said,
that's how it works - the poison, you know," Nate said apologetically.

Jack winced a little and felt his shoulder, where the last bite was. Hey, it
didn't hurt any more. Just like Nate had said. That made Jack feel better
about the biting business. But still, standing still while a fifteen foot
snake sunk it's fangs into you. Jack stood up. Ignoring how good it felt to
be able to stand again, and the hunger starting to gnaw at his stomach, Jack
tried to decide where he wanted to get bitten. Despite knowing that it
wouldn't hurt for long, Jack knew that this wasn't going to be easy.

"Hey, Jack," Nate suddenly said, looking past Jack towards the dunes behind
him, "is that someone else coming up over there?"

Jack spun around and looked. Who else could be out here in the middle of
nowhere? And did they bring food?

Wait a minute, there was nobody over there. What was Nate...

Jack let out a bellow as he felt two fangs sink into his rear end, through
his jeans...

Jack sat down carefully, favoring his more tender buttock. "I would have
decided, eventually, Nate. I was just thinking about it. You didn't have to
hoodwink me like that."

"I've been doing this a long time, Jack," said Nate, confidently. "You
humans have a hard time sitting still and letting a snake bite you -
especially one my size. And besides, admit it - it's only been a couple of
minutes and it already doesn't hurt any more, does it? That's because of the
health benefit with this one. I told you that you'd heal quickly now."

"Yeah, well, still," said Jack, "it's the principle of the thing. And nobody
likes being bitten in the butt! Couldn't you have gotten my calf or
something instead?"

"More meat in the typical human butt," replied Nate. "And less chance you
accidentally kick me or move at the last second."

"Yeah, right. So, tell me all of these wonderful secrets that I now qualify
to hear," answered Jack.

"Ok," said Nate. "Do you want to ask questions first, or do you want me to
just start talking?"

"Just talk," said Jack. "I'll sit here and try to not think about food."

"We could go try to rustle up some food for you first, if you like,"
answered Nate.

"Hey! You didn't tell me you had food around here, Nate!" Jack jumped up.
"What do we have? Am I in walking distance to town? Or can you magically
whip up food along with your other powers?" Jack was almost shouting with
excitement. His stomach had been growling for hours.

"I was thinking more like I could flush something out of its hole and bite
it for you, and you could skin it and eat it. Assuming you have a knife,
that is," replied Nate, with the grin that Jack was starting to get used to.

"Ugh," said Jack, sitting back down. "I think I'll pass. I can last a little
longer before I get desperate enough to eat desert rat, or whatever else it
is you find out here. And there's nothing to burn - I'd have to eat it raw.
No thanks. Just talk."

"Ok," replied Nate, still grinning. "But I'd better hurry, before you start
looking at me as food.

Nate reared back a little, looked around for a second, and then continued.
"You, Jack, are sitting in the middle of the Garden of Eden."

Jack looked around at the sand and dunes and then looked back at Nate
sceptically.

"Well, that's the best I can figure it, anyway, Jack," said Nate. "Stand up
and look at the symbol on the rock here." Nate gestured around the dark
stone they were both sitting on with his nose.

Jack stood up and looked. Carved into the stone in a bas-relief was a
representation of a large tree. The angled-pole that Nate was wrapped around
was coming out of the trunk of the tree, right below where the main branches
left the truck to reach out across the stone. It was very well done - it
looked more like a tree had been reduced to almost two dimensions and
embedded in the stone than it did like a carving.

Jack walked around and looked at the details in the fading light of the
setting sun. He wished he'd looked at it while the sun was higher in the
sky.

Wait! The sun was setting! That meant he was going to have to spend another
night out here! Arrrgh!

Jack looked out across the desert for a little bit, and then came back and
stood next to Nate. "In all the excitement, I almost forgot, Nate," said
Jack. "Which way is it back to town? And how far? I'm eventually going to
have to head back - I'm not sure I'll be able to survive by eating raw
desert critters for long. And even if I can, I'm not sure I'll want to."

"It's about 30 miles that way." Nate pointed, with the rattle on his tail
this time. As far as Jack could tell, it was a direction at right angles to
the way he'd been going when he was crawling here. "But that's 30 miles by
the way the crow flies. It's about 40 by the way a man walks. You should be
able to do it in about half a day with your improved endurance, if you head
out early tomorrow, Jack."

Jack looked out the way the snake had pointed for a few seconds more, and
then sat back down. It was getting dark. Not much he could do about heading
out right now. And besides, Nate was just about to get to the interesting
stuff. "Garden of Eden? As best as you can figure it?"

"Well, yeah, as best as I and Samuel could figure it anyway," said Nate. "He
figured that the story just got a little mixed up. You know, snake, in a
'tree', offering 'temptations', making bargains. That kind stuff. But he
could never quite figure out how the Hebrews found out about this spot from
across the ocean. He worried about that for a while."

"Garden of Eden, hunh?" said Jack. "How long have you been here, Nate?"

"No idea, really," replied Nate. "A long time. It never occurred to me to
count years, until recently, and by then, of course, it was too late. But I
do remember when this whole place was green, so I figure it's been thousands
of years, at least."

"So, are you the snake that tempted Eve?" said Jack.

"Beats me," said Nate. "Maybe. I can't remember if the first one of your
kind that I talked to was female or not, and I never got a name, but it
could have been. And I suppose she could have considered my offer to grant
requests a 'temptation', though I've rarely had refusals."

"Well, umm, how did you get here then? And why is that white pole stuck out
of the stone there?" asked Jack.

"Dad left me here. Or, I assume it was my dad. It was another snake - much
bigger than I was back then. I remember talking to him, but I don't remember
if it was in a language, or just kind of understanding what he wanted. But
one day, he brought me to this stone, told me about it, and asked me to do
something for him. I talked it over with him for a while, then agreed. I've
been here ever since.

"What is this place?" said Jack. "And what did he ask you to do?"

"Well, you see this pole here, sticking out of the stone?" Nate loosened his
coils around the tilted white pole and showed Jack where it descended into
the stone. The pole was tilted at about a 45 degree angle and seemed to
enter the stone in an eighteen inch slot cut into the stone. Jack leaned
over and looked. The slot was dark and the pole went down into it as far as
Jack could see in the dim light. Jack reached out to touch the pole, but
Nate was suddenly there in the way.

"You can't touch that yet, Jack," said Nate.

"Why not?" asked Jack.

"I haven't explained it to you yet," replied Nate.

"Well, it kinda looks like a lever or something," said Jack. "You'd push it
that way, and it would move in the slot."

"Yep, that's what it is," replied Nate.

"What does it do?" asked Jack. "End the world?"

"Oh, no," said Nate. "Nothing that drastic. It just ends humanity. I call it
'The Lever of Doom'." For the last few words Nate had used a deeper, ringing
voice. He tried to look serious for a few seconds, and then gave up and
grinned.
Jack was initially startled by Nate's pronouncement, but when Nate grinned
Jack laughed. "Ha! You almost had me fooled for a second there. What does it
really do?"

"Oh, it really ends humanity, like I said," smirked Nate. "I just thought
the voice I used was funny, didn't you?"

Nate continued to grin.

"A lever to end humanity?" asked Jack. "What in the world is that for? Why
would anyone need to end humanity?"

"Well," replied Nate, "I get the idea that maybe humanity was an experiment.
Or maybe the Big Guy just thought, that if humanity started going really
bad, there should be a way to end it. I'm not really sure. All I know are
the rules, and the guesses that Samuel and I had about why it's here. I
didn't think to ask back when I started here."

"Rules? What rules?" asked Jack.

"The rules are that I can't tell anybody about it or let them touch it
unless they agree to be bound to secrecy by a bite. And that only one human
can be bound in that way at a time. That's it." explained Nate.

Jack looked somewhat shocked. "You mean that I could pull the lever now?
You'd let me end humanity?"

"Yep," replied Nate, "if you want to." Nate looked at Jack carefully. "Do
you want to, Jack?"

"Umm, no." said Jack, stepping a little further back from the lever. "Why in
the world would anyone want to end humanity? It'd take a psychotic to want
that! Or worse, a suicidal psychotic, because it would kill him too,
wouldn't it?"

"Yep," replied Nate, "being as he'd be human too."

"Has anyone ever seriously considered it?" asked Nate. "Any of those bound
to secrecy, that is?"

"Well, of course, I think they've all seriously considered it at one time or
another. Being given that kind of responsibility makes you sit down and
think, or so I'm told. Samuel considered it several times. He'd often get
disgusted with humanity, come out here, and just hold the lever for a while.
But he never pulled it. Or you wouldn't be here." Nate grinned some more.

Jack sat down, well back from the lever. He looked thoughtful and puzzled at
the same time. After a bit, he said, "So this makes me the Judge of
humanity? I get to decide whether they keep going or just end? Me?"

"That seems to be it," agreed Nate.

"What kind of criteria do I use to decide?" said Jack. "How do I make this
decision? Am I supposed to decide if they're good? Or too many of them are
bad? Or that they're going the wrong way? Is there a set of rules for that?"

"Nope," replied Nate. "You pretty much just have to decide on your own. It's
up to you, however you want to decide it. I guess that you're just supposed
to know."

"But what if I get mad at someone? Or some girl dumps me and I feel
horrible? Couldn't I make a mistake? How do I know that I won't screw up?"
protested Jack.

Nate gave his kind of snake-like shrug again. "You don't. You just have to
try your best, Jack."

Jack sat there for a while, staring off into the desert that was rapidly
getting dark, chewing on a fingernail.

Suddenly, Jack turned around and looked at the snake. "Nate, was Samuel the
one bound to this before me?"

"Yep," replied Nate. "He was a good guy. Talked to me a lot. Taught me to
read and brought me books. I think I still have a good pile of them buried
in the sand around here somewhere. I still miss him. He died a few months
ago."

"Sounds like a good guy," agreed Jack. "How did he handle this, when you
first told him. What did he do?"

"Well," said Nate, "he sat down for a while, thought about it for a bit, and
then asked me some questions, much like you're doing."

"What did he ask you, if you're allowed to tell me?" asked Jack.

"He asked me about the third request," replied Nate.

"Aha!" It was Jack's turn to grin. "And what did you tell him?"

"I told him the rules for the third request. That to get the third request
you have to agree to this whole thing. That if it ever comes to the point
that you really think that humanity should be ended, that you'll come here
and end it. You won't avoid it, and you won't wimp out." Nate looked serious
again. "And you'll be bound to do it too, Jack."

"Hmmm." Jack looked back out into the darkness for a while.

Nate watched him, waiting.

"Nate," continued Jack, quietly, eventually. "What did Samuel ask for with
his third request?"

Nate sounded like he was grinning again as he replied, also quietly,
"Wisdom, Jack. He asked for wisdom. As much as I could give him."

"Ok," said Jack, suddenly, standing up and facing away from Nate, "give it
to me.

Nate looked at Jack's backside. "Give you what, Jack?"

"Give me that wisdom. The same stuff that Samuel asked for. If it helped
him, maybe it'll help me too." Jack turned his head to look back over his
shoulder at Nate. "It did help him, right?"

"He said it did," replied Nate. "But he seemed a little quieter afterward.
Like he had a lot to think about."

"Well, yeah, I can see that," said Jack. "So, give it to me." Jack turned to
face away from Nate again, bent over slightly and tensed up.

Nate watched Jack tense up with a little exasperation. If he bit Jack now,
Jack would likely jump out of his skin and maybe hurt them both.

"You remember that you'll be bound to destroy humanity if it ever looks like
it needs it, right Jack?" asked Nate, shifting position.

"Yeah, yeah, I got that," replied Jack, eyes squeezed tightly shut and body
tense, not noticing the change in direction of Nate's voice.

"And," continued Nate, from his new position, "do you remember that you'll
turn bright purple, and grow big horns and extra eyes?"

"Yeah, yeah...Hey, wait a minute!" said Jack, opening his eyes,
straightening up and turning around. "Purple?!" He didn't see Nate there.
With the moonlight Jack could see that the lever extended up from its slot
in the rock without the snake wrapped around it.

Jack heard, from behind him, Nate's "Just Kidding!" right before he felt the
now familiar piercing pain, this time in the other buttock.

Jack sat on the edge of the dark stone in the rapidly cooling air, his feet
extending out into the sand. He stared out into the darkness, listening to
the wind stir the sand, occasionally rubbing his butt where he'd been
recently bitten.

Nate had left for a little while, had come back with a desert-rodent-shaped
bulge somewhere in his middle, and was now wrapped back around the lever,
his tongue flicking out into the desert night's air the only sign that he
was still awake.

Occasionally Jack, with his toes absentmindedly digging in the sand while he
thought, would ask Nate a question without turning around.

"Nate, do accidents count?"

Nate lifted his head a little bit. "What do you mean, Jack?"

Jack tilted his head back like he was looking at the stars. "You know,
accidents. If I accidentally fall on the lever, without meaning to, does
that still wipe out humanity?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it does, Jack. I'd suggest you be careful about that
if you start feeling wobbly," said Nate with some amusement.

A little later - "Does it have to be me that pulls the lever?" asked Jack.

"That's the rule, Jack. Nobody else can pull it," answered Nate.

"No," Jack shook his head, "I meant does it have to be my hand? Could I pull
the lever with a rope tied around it? Or push it with a stick? Or throw a
rock?"

"Yes, those should work," replied Nate. "Though I'm not sure how complicated
you could get. Samuel thought about trying to build some kind of remote
control for it once, but gave it up. Everything he'd build would be gone by
the next sunrise, if it was touching the stone, or over it. I told him that
in the past others that had been bound had tried to bury the lever so they
wouldn't be tempted to pull it, but every time the stones or sand or
whatever had disappeared."

"Wow," said Jack, "Cool." Jack leaned back until only his elbows kept him
off of the stone and looked up into the sky.

"Nate, how long did Samuel live? One of his wishes was for health too,
right?" asked Jack.

"Yes," replied Nate, "it was. He lived 167 years, Jack."

"Wow, 167 years. That's almost 140 more years I'll live if I live as long.
Do you know what he died of, Nate?"

"He died of getting tired of living, Jack," Nate said, sounding somewhat
sad.

Jack turned his head to look at Nate in the starlight.

Nate looked back. "Samuel knew he wasn't going to be able to stay in
society. He figured that they'd eventually see him still alive and start
questioning it, so he decided that he'd have to disappear after a while. He
faked his death once, but changed his mind - he decided it was too early and
he could stay for a little longer. He wasn't very fond of mankind, but he
liked the attention. Most of the time, anyway.

"His daughter and then his wife dying almost did him in though. He didn't
stay in society much longer after that. He eventually came out here to spend
time talking to me and thinking about pulling the lever. A few months ago he
told me he'd had enough. It was his time."

"And then he just died?" asked Jack.

Nate shook his head a little. "He made his forth request, Jack. There's only
one thing you can ask for the fourth request. The last bite.

After a bit Nate continued, "He told me that he was tired, that it was his
time. He reassured me that someone new would show up soon, like they always
had.

After another pause, Nate finished, "Samuel's body disappeared off the stone
with the sunrise."

Jack lay back down and looked at the sky, leaving Nate alone with his
memories. It was a long time until Jack's breathing evened out into sleep.
Jack woke with the sunrise the next morning. He was a little chilled with
the morning desert air, but overall was feeling pretty good. Well, except
that his stomach was grumbling and he wasn't willing to eat raw desert rat.

So, after getting directions to town from Nate, making sure he knew how to
get back, and reassuring Nate that he'd be back soon, Jack started the long
walk back to town. With his new health and Nate's good directions, he made
it back easily.

Jack caught a bus back to the city, and showed up for work the next day,
little worse for the wear and with a story about getting lost in the desert
and walking back out. Within a couple of days Jack had talked a friend with
a tow truck into going back out into the desert with him to fetch the SUV.
They found it after a couple of hours of searching and towed it back without
incident. Jack was careful not to even look in the direction of Nate's
lever, though their path back didn't come within sight of it.

Before the next weekend, Jack had gone to a couple of stores, including a
book store, and had gotten his SUV back from the mechanic, with a warning to
avoid any more joyriding in the desert. On Saturday, Jack headed back to see
Nate.

Jack parked a little way out of the small town near Nate, loaded up his new
backpack with camping gear and the things he was bringing for Nate, and then
started walking. He figured that walking would leave the least trail, and he
knew that while not many people camped in the desert, it wasn't unheard of,
and shouldn't really raise suspicions.

Jack had brought more books for Nate - recent books, magazines, newspapers.
Some things that would catch Nate up with what was happening in the world,
others that were just good books to read. He spent the weekend with Nate,
and then headed out again, telling Nate that he'd be back again soon, but
that he had things to do first.

Over four months later Jack was back to see Nate again. This time he brought
a laptop with him - a specially modified laptop. It had a solar recharger,
special filters and seals to keep out the sand, a satellite link-up, and a
special keyboard and joystick that Jack hoped that a fifteen-foot
rattlesnake would be able to use. And, it had been hacked to not give out
its location to the satellite.

After that Jack could e-mail Nate to keep in touch, but still visited him
fairly regularly - at least once or twice a year.

After the first year, Jack quit his job. For some reason, with the wisdom he
'd been given, and the knowledge that he could live for over 150 years,
working in a nine to five job for someone else didn't seem that worthwhile
any more. Jack went back to school.

Eventually, Jack started writing. Perhaps because of the wisdom, or perhaps
because of his new perspective, he wrote well. People liked what he wrote,
and he became well known for it. After a time, Jack bought an RV and started
traveling around the country for book signings and readings.

But, he still remembered to drop by and visit Nate occasionally.

On one of the visits Nate seemed quieter than usual. Not that Nate had been
a fountain of joy lately. Jack's best guess was that Nate was still missing
Samuel, and though Jack had tried, he still hadn't been able to replace
Samuel in Nate's eyes. Nate had been getting quieter each visit. But on this
visit Nate didn't even speak when Jack walked up to the lever. He nodded at
Jack, and then went back to staring into the desert. Jack, respecting Nate's
silence, sat down and waited.

After a few minutes, Nate spoke. "Jack, I have someone to introduce you to."

Jack looked surprised. "Someone to introduce me to?" Jack looked around, and
then looked carefully back at Nate. "This something to do with the Big Guy?

"No, no," replied Nate. "This is more personal. I want you to meet my son."
Nate looked over at the nearest sand dune. "Sammy!"

Jack watched as a four foot long desert rattlesnake crawled from behind the
dune and up to the stone base of the lever.

"Yo, Jack," said the new, much smaller snake.

"Yo, Sammy" replied Jack. Jack looked at Nate. "Named after Samuel, I
assume?"

Nate nodded. "Jack, I've got a favor to ask you. Could you show Sammy around
for me?" Nate unwrapped himself from the lever and slithered over to the
edge of the stone and looked across the sands. "When Samuel first told me
about the world, and brought me books and pictures, I wished that I could go
see it. I wanted to see the great forests, the canyons, the cities, even the
other deserts, to see if they felt and smelled the same. I want my son to
have that chance - to see the world. Before he becomes bound here like I
have been.

"He's seen it in pictures, over the computer that you brought me. But I hear
that it's not the same. That being there is different. I want him to have
that. Think you can do that for me, Jack?"

Jack nodded. This was obviously very important to Nate, so Jack didn't even
joke about taking a talking rattlesnake out to see the world. "Yeah, I can
do that for you, Nate. Is that all you need?" Jack could sense that was
something more.

Nate looked at Sammy. Sammy looked back at Nate for a second and then said,
"Oh, yeah. Ummm, I've gotta go pack. Back in a little bit Jack. Nice to meet
ya!" Sammy slithered back over the dune and out of sight.

Nate watched Sammy disappear and then looked back at Jack. "Jack, this is my
first son. My first offspring through all the years. You don't even want to
know what it took for me to find a mate." Nate grinned to himself. "But
anyway, I had a son for a reason. I'm tired. I'm ready for it to be over. I
needed a replacement."

Jack considered this for a minute. "So, you're ready to come see the world,
and you wanted him to watch the lever while you were gone?"

Nate shook his head. "No, Jack - you're a better guesser than that. You've
already figured out - I'm bound here - there's only one way for me to leave
here. And I'm ready. It's my time to die."

Jack looked more closely at Nate. He could tell Nate had thought about
this - probably for quite a while. Jack had trouble imagining what it would
be like to be as old as Nate, but Jack could already tell that in another
hundred or two hundred years, he might be getting tired of life himself.
Jack could understand Samuel's decision, and now Nate's. So, all Jack said
was, "What do you want me to do?"

Nate nodded. "Thanks, Jack. I only want two things. One - show Sammy around
the world - let him get his fill of it, until he's ready to come back here
and take over. Two - give me the fourth request.

"I can't just decide to die, not any more than you can. I won't even die of
old age like you eventually will, even though it'll be a long time from now.
I need to be killed. Once Sammy is back here, ready to take over, I'll be
able to die. And I need you to kill me.

"I've even thought about how. Poisons and other drugs won't work on me. And
I've seen pictures of snakes that were shot - some of them live for days, so
that's out too. So, I want you to bring back a sword.

Nate turned away to look back to the dune that Sammy had gone behind. "I'd
say an axe, but that's somewhat undignified - putting my head on the ground
or a chopping block like that. No, I like a sword. A time-honored way of
going out. A dignified way to die. And, most importantly, it should work,
even on me.

"You willing to do that for me, Jack?" Nate turned back to look at Jack.

"Yeah, Nate," replied Jack solemnly, "I think I can handle that."

Nate nodded. "Good!" He turned back toward the dune and shouted, "Sammy!
Jack's about ready to leave!" Then quietly, "Thanks, Jack."

Jack didn't have anything to say to that, so he waited for Sammy to make it
back to the lever, nodded to him, nodded a final time to Nate, and then
headed into the desert with Sammy following.
Over the next several years Sammy and Jack kept in touch with Nate through
e-mail as they went about their adventures. They made a goal of visiting
every country in the world, and did a respectable job of it. Sammy had a
natural gift for languages, as Jack expected he would, and even ended up
acting as a translator for Jack in a few of the countries. Jack managed to
keep the talking rattlesnake hidden, even so, and by the time they were
nearing the end of their tour of countries, Sammy had only been spotted a
few times. While there were several people that had seen enough to startle
them greatly, nobody had enough evidence to prove anything, and while a few
wild rumors and storied followed Jack and Sammy around, nothing ever hit the
newspapers or the public in general.

When they finished the tour of countries, Jack suggested that they try some
undersea diving. They did. And spelunking. They did that too. Sammy finally
drew the line at visiting Antarctica. He'd come to realize that Jack was
stalling. After talking to his Dad about it over e-mail, he figured out that
Jack probably didn't want to have to kill Nate. Nate told Sammy that humans
could be squeamish about killing friends and acquaintances.

So, Sammy eventually put his tail down (as he didn't have a foot) and told
Jack that it was time - he was ready to go back and take up his duties from
his dad. Jack, delayed it a little more by insisting that they go back to
Japan and buy an appropriate sword. He even stretched it a little more by
getting lessons in how to use the sword. But, eventually, he'd learned as
much as he was likely to without dedicating his life to it, and was
definitely competent enough to take the head off of a snake. It was time to
head back and see Nate.

When they got back to the US, Jack got the old RV out of storage where he
and Sammy had left it after their tour of the fifty states, he loaded up
Sammy and the sword, and they headed for the desert.

When they got to the small town that Jack had been trying to find those
years ago when he'd met Nate, Jack was in a funk. He didn't really feel like
walking all of the way out there. Not only that, but he'd forgotten to
figure the travel time correctly, and it was late afternoon. They'd either
have to spend the night in town and walk out tomorrow, or walk in the dark.

As Jack was afraid that if he waited one more night he might lose his
resolve, he decided that he'd go ahead and drive the RV out there. It was
only going to be this once, and Jack would go back and cover the tracks
afterward. They ought to be able to make it out there by nightfall if they
drove, and then they could get it over tonight.

Jack told Sammy to e-mail Nate that they were coming as he drove out of
sight of the town on the road. They then pulled off the road and headed out
into the desert.

Everything went well, until they got to the sand dunes. Jack had been
nursing the RV along the whole time, over the rocks, through the creek beds,
revving the engine the few times they almost got stuck. When they came to
the dunes, Jack didn't really think about it, he just downshifted and headed
up the first one. By the third dune, Jack started to regret that he'd
decided to try driving on the sand. The RV was fishtailling and losing
traction. Jack was having to work it up each dune slowly and was trying to
keep from losing control each time they came over the top and slid down the
other side. Sammy had come up to sit in the passenger seat, coiled up and
laughing at Jack's driving.

As they came over the top of the fourth dune, the biggest one yet, Jack saw
that this was the final dune - the stone, the lever, and somewhere Nate,
waited below. Jack put on the brakes, but he'd gone a little too far. The RV
started slipping down the other side.

Jack tried turning the wheel, but he didn't have enough traction. He pumped
the brakes - no response. They started sliding down the hill, faster and
faster.

Jack felt a shock go through him as he suddenly realized that they were
heading for the lever. He looked down - the RV was directly on course for
it. If Jack didn't do something, the RV would hit it. He was about to end
humanity.

Jack steered more frantically, trying to get traction. It still wasn't
working. The dune was too steep, and the sand too loose. In a split second,
Jack realized that his only chance would be once he hit the stone around the
lever - he should have traction on the stone for just a second before he hit
the lever - he wouldn't have time to stop, but he should be able to steer
away.

Jack took a better grip on the steering wheel and tried to turn the RV a
little bit - every little bit would help. He'd have to time his turn just
right.

The RV got to the bottom of the dune, sliding at an amazing speed in the
sand. Just before they reached the stone Jack looked across it to check that
they were still heading for the lever. They were. But Jack noticed something
else that he hadn't seen from the top of the dune. Nate wasn't wrapped
around the lever. He was off to the side of the lever, but still on the
stone, waiting for them. The problem was, he was waiting on the same side of
the lever that Jack had picked to steer towards to avoid the lever. The RV
was already starting to drift that way a little in its mad rush across the
sand and there was no way that Jack was going to be able to go around the
lever to the other side.

Jack had an instant of realization. He was either going to have to hit the
lever, or run over Nate. He glanced over at Sammy and saw that Sammy
realized the same thing.

Jack took a firmer grip on the steering wheel as the RV ran up on the stone.
Shouting to Sammy as he pulled the steering wheel, "BETTER NATE THAN LEVER,"
he ran over the snake.

THE END

cmarguel @ 2006-07-19T01:45:00

2006-07-18T17:49:34Z

I've started writing stuff on argument.88-mph.net. I'll probably be crossposting most of the stuff here, though, especially as I think we're doing something wrong with the Rails config right now, as it seems slow despite being on the supposedly fastest Apache + FastCGI. Routing is also NOT fixed yet; the URLs look very ugly at themoment. I certainly would not want the data there wiped out by a fatal error during debugging.

Newbie on Rails Mini-entry

2006-06-13T05:50:23Z

Some cool features of Rails that I've found recently (and some important reminders to myself):

I was writing a simple blog engine that supported multiple blogs for multiple authors. One problem I was thinking about for a while was retrieving the most recent comments on a single blog. Now, of course, you can easily do this with some good SQL, but I figured that this was such an obvious need that Ruby must have handled it somewhere without requiring me to write a SQL query. Thankfully, handle it they did.

# It's as simple as
# A
def Comment
  belongs_to :entry
end

# B 
def Entry
  has_many :comments
  belongs_to :blog
end

# C
def Blog
  has_many :entries
  has_many :comments, :through => :entries, :order => 
end

# TA DAAAAH
@comments = Blog.find(params[:id]).comments

Sometimes, you want to let the user choose between multiple views of your site. In that case, override this method in the controllers you want to do this in. Make it return the correct rhtml file based on the contents of action_name and you're all set.

def default_template_name default=action_name
  "view_name"
end

Yes, I may have forgotten to mention that the variables action_name and controller_name will contain the names of the invoked action and controller. Useless in the actual action definitions, but these variables are also defined for the filters that are executed before and after the actions.

Very cute stuff.

cmarguel @ 2006-05-28T01:39:00

2006-05-27T17:46:47Z

Politicians today don't know what the hell they're doing. I was hoping they would end the war once and for all, but now all they're doing is fueling the flames with their latest retarded announcement. They made Hank McCoy the fucking US representative for the United States? Hello? He's a goddamn mutant! This won't end well! These fucking mutants just walk around like they own the place, and now this is going to make them feel as if their actions are justified! The government needs to wipe out the mutant threat now! This is like permitting nuclear bombs to freely walk around the planet! We don't even know if Magneto is still actively masterminding a new plot against us; why don't they go after him? Shit shit shitshit I can't stand these idiots any longer. We need to make a stand NOW.

Public service announcement

2006-05-17T06:35:32Z

SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT THE GODDAMN DA VINCI CODE!!!

Ex-excommunicado

2006-04-26T07:53:58Z

A: Two weeks of no internet.
B: One week with no phone.
C: One day with no cable.

A∩B∩C = Hell

A Haiku

At last it happened,
the nightmare is finally
over. Finito.

Hallemotherfuckinglujah.

With a preemptive "sorry" to the involved party.

2006-04-03T18:11:21Z

It's been a year since we've graduated and people still keep repeating a certain phrase I hate.

BUT SHE'S SACHA CHUA!

Okay, what's wrong with everyone? Every time I suggest doing something challenging, people who lack confidence will say they can't do it. And when I enumerate people who've accomplished it, Sacha often included therein, those I speak to will inevitably reply with this accursed phrase. I hate to break it to you people, but she is A HUMAN, albeit one with extraordinary dedication to what she loves. Certainly, there may be acheivements that she is more qualified to accomplish than others, but why should one let that stop him or her from trying? Here's a helpful hint. "Sacha can do something" is very different from "only Sacha can do something." The awesome things a person does are supposed to inspire, not discourage! Just because someone does something does not mean she is the only one capable of doing it!

I've said it before, and I will say it again: CARPE THE FUCKING DIEM. Why not try taking on that challenge?1 Trust me, though, it's never what you failed to do that you'll regret later on, but what you failed to try. Who knows? Maybe you'll do it, and maybe you won't. Either way, you'll come out stronger.

The lesson is simple: Have some more confidence in yourselves. The fact that someone you know has extraordinary qualities should NEVER prevent you from realizing that, perhaps, there might be something extraordinary about you too.

1 Necessary disclaimer: Note that this is directed towards those who lack confidence. If you're disinterested in something to begin with, that's a different story.

cmarguel @ 2006-03-25T01:04:00

2006-03-24T17:05:47Z

Why did the little sidebar jump from my LJ's left side to its right?

EDIT: And why is it now back to normal?

cmarguel @ 2006-03-08T22:18:00

2006-03-08T14:23:02Z

There's this silly "Atenista ba ako" meme going around, but I'm not into memes much, and it's really long, so I'll just answer a shortened version:

(x) had the worst lottery schedule for reg - The system uses random numbers now rather than a lottery, but in any case, I'd like to give the random numbering system one last and final, huge and hearty FUCK YOU. (sorry Ryan and Neil)

cmarguel @ 2006-03-02T19:39:00

2006-03-02T11:46:01Z

This is not so much a tutorial as it is a log of my effort to learn how to code for the Nokia S60 Platform using Python. My background in mobile development is not much--I've done J2ME, and the extent of my Python experience is reaching level nine of The Python Challenge, so pardon me if this is a very sparse and undetailed article; a lot of it is cobbled together from various sources, and it really is mostly for my own benefit. Nevertheless, I hope that someone might find it useful somehow. This article is, as always, accompanied by my standard empty promise of updating it.

1. Install the S60 emulator and Python for the S60, found here. Nokia's site is painfully tough to navigate, and I spent a day installing all this, so I am too tired to dwell on this.

2. Get the API documentation. Again, the site is difficult to navigate. I found a link instead on the Python for S60 Wiki.

3. Programming proper:

Classes:

appuifw

This is the main class for interfacing with the S60 UI.

Binding keys to functions:

bind(event_code, callback)

Event codes can be imported as follows (for all the keycodes, I hear Google is pretty good):

from key_codes import EKeyLeftArrow, EKeySelect, EKey9, EKeyEdit

Inputs:

someInput = appuifw.query(u"Question?", "text")

Allowed types aside from "text": "number", "date", "time", "query" (Ok/cancel), "code" (password field)

Notifications:

appuifw.note(u"notification", "info")

Allowed types aside from "info" (that makes it accompanied by an exclamation point): "error", "conf"

Messaging:
The one thing everyone's been waiting for:

import messaging
messaging.sms_send("phone#", "content")

This is the ONLY thing available in the messaging module.

Main loop:
This may be a misnomer, Although we can indeed have a main loop, as seen here...

def quit:
  running = 0

appuifw.app.exit_key_handler = quit

while running:
  # do stuff

... you can also simply lock the app by doing this (don't signal more than once; I don't believe the phone can take it)

app_lock = e32.Ao_lock()

def quit():
    app_lock.signal()

# stuff here

appuifw.app.exit_key_handler = quit
app_lock.wait()

If you remember your semaphores, that's pretty much what this is.

4. Resources:
Tutorial by a weird-looking dude whose name escapes me

cmarguel @ 2006-02-26T02:08:00

2006-02-25T18:20:23Z

I was speaking with Mike earlier about how pathetic the situation here was (note to President Arroyo: ). He remarked, "I wish I had a blog," and I told him to make one. He was too lazy.

SO I MADE HIM ONE MYSELF
thecoffee
CLICK AND READ THE BLOG OF ONE OF THE MOST AWESOME COOL DUDES AROUND AND HOPEFULLY HE WILL UPDATE IT

HERE IS TO YOU, MIKE!

cmarguel @ 2006-02-07T16:30:00

2006-02-07T08:38:53Z

It wasn't Gloria, it wasn't the government, and it certainly wasn't Willie Fucking Revillame. This is dumb.

Finding a scapegoat is ridiculous; it rests on the flawed assumption that people can only fall under the categories of "responsible for it" or "not responsible for it." THESE THINGS HAPPEN.

Everyone is acting like a bunch of kids playing pin the blame on the donkey.

Bad joke time: I don't know if he was arrested, but at least we know for sure that the guy who shouted out that there was a bomb got what he deserved. Either way, he was charged. :v

ATTENTION USER INTERFACE DESIGNERS ATTENTION

2006-01-21T10:19:53Z

Stop making your favorite textboxes steal my focus!

1. Google: Your amazing website is my default browser page! However, when I start my browser and type an address in the URL bar, your search box greedily takes what rightfully belongs to the URL bar! As a result, I end up typing half the URL into your search bar, and consequently, pressing the enter key and searching for half a URL! I do not wish to search for half a URL, or even a whole URL! I wish to go to that URL, and this is a service better provided by Mozilla Firefox than a web-based application!

2: Google: You have slyly placed javascript that sets the default text of the search bar on the results page to whatever I have just searched for! This is, in fact, useful! However, why use Javascript? When I search for something, and decide to search for something else, your code executes after the browser finishes loading the results! Guess what happens? That is right, if I decide to search for something else, in the middle of typing the new search term, the Javascript code resets my search text! As a result, I end up searching for strange and bizarre things, such as "perry biblenny arcade" and "mario brothersnix wright"! Clearly, nobody wishes to search for such amalgams!

3: Yahoo!: Your faults are the most critical of them all! When I log in, the username textbox steals focus after the page is finished loading! However, I am a fast typer, and by the time it takes my focus, I have already begun typing my password! Obviously, I do not wish for people to see me type "cmarguelmypassword" in the username box! Please fix this very soon!

All I am trying to say is that I like your really cool services! But it does things I do not like!

My New Year was better than your New Year.

2005-12-31T21:03:45Z

Update 1: Still no pics, but the cause has been discerned as stupidity. Some clever person decided to light a skyrocket inside his shanty.
Edit: comments on writing style also welcome. Still waiting on pics from cousins.

I only wish I had been wearing my glasses four hours ago, so that I could have perceived the events with clarity against the hazy orange glow of the fire.

If I were superstitious, I would have said it was an ominous way to start the new year. The moment my relatives and I realized it was midnight, we greeted and kissed each other, as we always have. Any apathy I felt at the routine party quickly disappeared as I heard my cousin's voice shouting, "Oh my god, there's a fire next door!" Between the roar of the fire and the undisturbed display of fireworks, the new year was quite literally starting out with a bang.

That fire had not been there when I went to watch my relatives play with sparklers ten minutes before the new year--yet, when we went outside to see it, there it was, already finishing its consumption of one of the shanties next door. A minute later and it would spread to the shelters built by the other squatters. Ten minutes later, and it might have extended its reach to our palm trees, in retrospect perhaps not placed in the most convenient location.

It would be pretentious to say that any of us sprang into action. In the first two minutes, all we could do was stare. Even after absorbing the facts, I, for some reason, felt the need to finish my text message: "Happy New Year everyone, I oh fuck my neighbors house is on fire." We, at least, had the sense to send somebody to the roof, to hose down the shingles and nearby trees. The fire was spreading dangerously close to the garden, and it took that long before any of us went to call the fire department. I do not know if they were quick to respond, or if someone elsewhere had already placed an earlier call. Whatever the case, they were there within minutes. As the heat pressed harder against our foreheads, we slapped water on our faces to cool ourselves. I wandered about our lot aimlessly, checking inside our own house and running to the gates to see if any firemen wanted to fight from our rooftop. They did. Outside, the streets were lined with spectators as fire trucks rushed all over. No less than ten fire trucks formed a chain that extended several blocks away. Several trucks drove into the compound from all possible directions, each sending out firemen who would keep shouting "pressure! pressure!" as they dragged out the hose. Walking away from the fire trucks, all I could see of the firemen and water in the blacked-out garden were smears of black against the glow of the blaze.

Just an hour before the fire, I was telling my brother to mark my words--that fireworks would cause a great disaster someday. It was not a practice that I ever approved of, and somehow, I felt guilty in being justified so poetically. Any feelings I had were cut short, though, as I noticed tiny speckles of light by the garden wall. Was the fire was trying to make itself known to us? As the firemen approached the wall, it became clear that my eyes were refusing to cooperate with me again. Though the fire had not broken through, the small crevice gave the firemen an idea--quickly, they smashed through the wall with a sledgehammer, creating a new opening for them to fight from. No less than ten hoses poured on to the fire from our roof alone, and even more were attacking from the surrounding streets. Firemen gathered around the hole, trying to create breaks to contain the fire.

As we grew less useful to the crisis, we began to calm. Some of us even sat and watched the spectacle. If we shared one thing in common with everyone in the vicinity, it was our need for excitement. The vicarious thrill of watching others in peril was never more blatant to me than it was now. The media covered the fire from the roof, while my relatives and I placed phone calls and sent messages to various friends. A fireman used the megaphone to broadcast Satanic laughter to the neighborhood. My brother and I took videos and pictures, trading more fire puns than it was prudent to, while every house in the settlement burned down. Several questions started nagging at me then--"Was it us? Was it them?"

Before the fire even ended, the mayor had already made a statement. He would provide the squatters with material to rebuild the shelters they had lost. He was quick to announce that they could have their houses back, in the same location as before, standing just as proudly as they always had, by the next day. I wondered if my father had similarly learned--would there be fireworks next year for us? How about for the neighbors?

The fire was under control from our end. It was still furious across the block, but we were no longer in any danger. We fed the firemen water and wine as they left, greeting each other a happy new year. With nothing left to do, I put on my glasses and sat down as the lights came back on. Through the hole in the wall, I fascinatedly watched the flecks of orange and blue blink in and out, to the sound of merry firecrackers and running water, as the smoke enveloped the stars one by one.

IN CONCLUSION I WANT YOU GUYS TO REMEMBER TO COME OVER ON NEW YEARS EVE BECAUSE THE ARGUELLESES HAVE THE MOST EXCITING NEW YEARS PARTIES AROUND K?

Keep your eyes peeled on this entry for exciting videos and pictures!