By Jason Fink
Surprisingly enough, the Singularity didn't start with theinternet. It started with an amputee.And his name was Dack.Once upon a time, Dack was born. He slid into the worldwith a minimum of fuss, for which his mother was exceedinglygrateful. He was a he and not a she, not an it, not at allconfused by anything but the cold bright air that pounced on himsuddenly. He cried a bit, sucked a bit, pooped a bit. Beforelong, he was off to a university.The middle bits were unimportant, really. So was theuniversity where he’d decided to go, and eventually went. Theuniversity would have most likely been fairly unimportant aswell, except that’s where he lost his hand.Not that he actually lost it. He knew perfectly well whereit had gotten off to, not that he’d had any say in the matter.His hand had meandered off one evening while the rest of hisbody had been doing the overly-hormonal boy thing, that is tosay showing off for some girls in the hopes of getting laid.The problem with hormones and boys and girls and sleeplessnights spent trying to prove that they were deep and meaningfulby calling it themselves Dawn Patrol and spinning some taleabout how meaningful the sea is and adding alcohol to the mix;the problem, one might say, is that in this mix there lies agreat abundance of stupidity.And lo, did Dack drink of the never ending flagon oftemporary idiocy, and he found it good. For a moment at least.