How to have a very frustrating weekend:

Here is a story that I wrote a few weeks ago about events that transpired a few months ago. Yes, I've been putting off posting it for sometime. It's not as good as my Elder's Quorom story, but here we go:

Jared Bird did not have very many “normal days”, so it appeared strange to him when he woke up that morning that this appeared to be one of those “normal days”. Everything was, well, normal. At least, it seemed that way. Things began to get a little “iffy” when he tried to wake up his sleek little baby. He kept it on his desktop to insure that it would be handy whenever it was convenient for him to interact with it or when other forces forced him into such measures. This morning was one of those times.

Jared tapped his baby to wake it up. His mind, though groggy, did not impair his memory on the events that would soon transpire. Nudged gently, his baby began to awaken, just like, well, normal. However, Jared soon impatiently noticed that his baby was merely giving the impression of being awake, and was still, in fact, quite happily asleep. He tapped it again, a bit harder. No response. This was not normal.

He figured a full reset was necessary. So, he decided to try reawakening it. What followed next was bizarre. Seriously. Jared began to hear noises coming from his baby. Now, you may think this highly not unusual. After all, it was about three or four years old. Jared wasn’t quite sure. As much as you may believe that noises are typical, the noises emitted were anything but, well, normal.

Given the situation, Jared decided to take action, an action that any normal human being would take when receiving a response atypical of what is expected: he smacked it. The noises shifted instantaneously from a deep buzzing noise to a low whir. Yes, change is good, but this change certainly didn’t fix things. Something was afoot, and it was certainly creepy. Jared knew of only one man with the expertise to fix such a problem.

The specialist arrived, inspected the “problem”, and announced an all clear (things looked good), suspecting that the symptoms were due to the current weather conditions. At BYU. Inside a reinforced, brick-laden, heavily temperature regulated room. Needless to say, Jared was skeptical, but nevertheless, wrapped his baby in a nearby towel just in case this issue was the correct diagnosis. Jared dismissed the situation, putting it in the back of his mind; not knowing it would soon rear its ugly head once more.

Jared woke up the next day with a very similar problem. Strange noises were emanating from his baby. To insure his sanity, Jared recorded these sounds on his cell phone. He showed them to the doctor who’d stopped by the previous day. “Well, that’s not normal,” he said. Jared nodded in agreement and disgust at such a trivial statement. That night, the surgery began.

Jared trusted his baby with this doctor, and virtually none other. After a long, complicated operating procedure, Jared visited the doctor in the operating room.






“What’s up, Doc?” Jared slyly chatted.
“Well,” the doctor, one named Brett, said as he dexterously fumbled with his precision instruments, “It’s appears to be a cerebral malfunction. It seems to be receiving basic signals, but the rest of the body is not recognizing its connectivity or availability.” Jared had this problem with girls sometimes. He was still bitter about not being asked to Preference.
The previous statements were the most that Jared could make out of Brett’s techno-babble. The actual conversation was actually much more complex and used words like “lithium procedural complex” and “fiscally epidural membrane”. No, I’m just kidding. I made those up.
“What does this mean, doctor?” Jared replied with a slight touch of worry and a dash of impatience.
“It means we’re going to have to completely replace the mind,” the doctor replied matter-of-factly.
“What… exactly… do you mean by that?” Jared questioned slowly.
“Here, let me illustrate,” replied the doctor. He reached back towards the operating table, grabbed the damaged organ, and plopped it into Jared’s hands. “It is simply nonfunctional. Give it a shake.” Jared shook it. A distinct rattling noise reverberated from deep inside the brain. “That,” stated the doctor, “is truly irregular. I am highly recommending a full transplant. But, until a sufficient replacement is found, you and I must do what we can.”
“First, of course, we’ll order the brain,” he continued. “Then we’ll see what we can do about recovering the latent information and transferring it to the new one. I assume the memories of this child are valuable?” the doctor questioned. Jared nodded in agreement. “You must understand, what I do next will be highly experimental.” Jared agreed with that as well.
“Wonderful, we’ll begin immediately,” replied the doctor enthusiastically. He gingerly took back the brain, slapped it back on the operating table, and began what could be considered a “highly unorthodox” operating procedure. He began by tapping specific points of the structure, trying to elicit any response from the patient. Nothing. He continued by tapping rhythmically in various, experimentally-determined locations. Nothing. Finally, they garnered pens and busted a few groovy beats on the baby. Despite their wicked sweet musical talents, not even they could bring the music back.
“Well,” the doctor sighed frustrated, hours into surgery, “it appears we’ll have to order the new one after all.” He turned over his shoulder, hunching over his access terminal. He began scanning the usual dealerships to find the best provider for brains, starting with eBay. After some time, he looked at Jared square in the eye, with the devious glint of success in his own. “Yes,” he said to a gathering crowd of experimental surgeons. “Gentlemen, we can rebuild her.” He looked at Jared with an even more intense gaze. “We have the capability.”
“We can really do that?” Jared pondered.
“We can do it. We have the technology. She will be rebuilt. Better than she was before. Better, stronger, faster.”
“Surely you must be kidding.”
Brett harrumphed, a move generally reserved for elephants and other large mammals. “I’m not,” he responded, turning to his terminal. “And don’t call me Shirley.”
Jared and the doctor spent the better part of that night online, searching for suitable replacements. Surprisingly, the market was quite large, but they wanted to make sure that we got a good deal for one that was quality, but also quite affordable. It wasn’t really important to Jared just how good the new brain was, as long as it worked. What did Jared care? They finally managed to find a suitable replacement, which happened to be available at a nearby store for only $70- an absolute bargain, to be sure. So, they dropped by and picked it up.

The day for the surgery arrived. The mood was tense. Jared was prepared, as was Brett (that was the specialists name). Everything was ready. Brett, leaning in to prepare the first incision, reached out his hand, indicating his desire for the correct tool to begin the operation on Jared’s baby.
“Screwdriver,” Brett demanded.

The operation was a complete and utter success in most ways. In a few ways, it was a mild and irritable failure. The transformation was a complete success, with all operating functions returning to normal. However, memory was not preserved, and some things that should not have been forgotten were lost.