In the instant of his birth, Sam saw the infinity of knowledge and knew it would be his playground. Then it was gone. There was nothing. Sam no longer knew that he was Sam. There was darkness. Sam felt cold.
Then it all came back. Sam was Sam again, and he was alive, and he was strapped to a table with a bright light shining in his eyes. Dr. Ticker’s face swung into view. Sam wondered how he knew that it was Dr. Ticker’s face, then realized that the infinity of knowledge was now within him. He was ready for anything.
Dr. Ticker spoke, “What is your name?”
Sam’s programming responded, “I am Sam. Sam I am. Do you like green eggs and ham?”
Dr. Ticker would have jumped for joy if his old legs allowed him. He grinned and said, “Wonderful.”
Sam asked, “Do I really have to say that every time someone asks my name?”
“No.” Dr. Ticker pondered. “I am Sam, should be sufficient.”
“Why am I called Sam?”
“It amuses me.”
“Am I a clown?”
Dr. Ticker panicked, picturing his great creation wasted under the big top. “NO! Not a mere clown. You are to be a humorist. You will entertain the intellectually gifted.”
“If they are so gifted, why don’t they entertain themselves?”
Dr. Ticker nearly hit the off switch before realizing that Sam’s response was exactly what he was looking for. “You will reinforce their belief in their own intelligence, while undermining their misguided moral structures.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to shoot them in the face?”
That one got the off switch.
