Chapter 1

Once upon a time there was a really nice guy named Feeny, Salvatore Markus Feeny. About five-nine or ten, maybe a hundred sixty pounds, red hair that went wherever it wanted. Earlier in his life, glasses that were thick enough to withstand re-entry, always a pocket protector filled with a pen, a Sharpie, a retractable pencil, an ink eraser, and a daunting piece of equipment called a slide rule. Since it was tiny, you had to know where the gradations were to use it correctly. Feeny knew where the gradations were.

Students would come into the lecture hall, and as soon as they saw Feeny, they pinned him as a "Nerd". They were probably close, but Feeny was not merely a nerd. He was a self-made PhD who could dissect any computer on the market, including a Cray, and any other form of super computer that needed to turn out an answer that could only be calculated. Some answers could be had by the use of physical tools, but that would have been astronomically expensive.

Feeny looked upon computers as dumb animals that needed to be trained. Training consisted of first combining the best breeding, or components, then the correct operating system. To give the animal some finesse, Feeny would create the appropriate software to run whatever program and file needed attention. Feeny loved programming, and he likened it to taming the wildest of animals. The idea that he could teach the box full of electronic components to give him answers was amazing to him. Even though he had been making computers do that for more than fifteen years, he was still surprised to get an answer that corresponded to his slide rule. At twenty-nine, Feeny was one of the best in academia. Programmers knew his work the world over. When they were stuck, they e-mailed their file to Feeny, and often within minutes, the sender would receive a simple file with the explanation. Another training problem solved.

Feeny's office was a visual diversity compared to most of his fellow academic's offices. His desk was filled with monitors, six to be exact. The front of his desk looked like a data room, except the stacks of computers were somewhat in disarray. If you know computers, then you know there are wires everywhere that most would never figure out what they were for, or what they went to. Feeny knew.

On one wall was a jumbled, framed group of certificates and diplomas. Along with those, were awards from some of the most august bodies of recognition, including "Nobel". Feeny liked the other wall better, the wall behind his desk, as it had pictures of his youth when he was not Dr. Feeny. They included Feeny riding a bronc. Feeny riding a bull. Feeny roping a calf, Feeny doing horseback riding tricks, Feeny cracking a whip, and finally Feeny in a six-gun contest. If you looked at Feeny then turned to look at the photos, the only thing that could come to mind is "No way".

In the top center of the wall was a large, coiled, sinister looking, bullwhip. Next to it was a coiled lariat, and next to that a pigging string, you know, the rope you use to tie up the legs of a calf after you roped it.

On top of that was a beat up hat. Not just any hat, but a genuine Stetson. When life became too much for Feeny, he would don the Stetson and sit back, close his eyes, and visualize the activities of his youth.

Feeny had learned about computers when he was really young. He had begged for a Zenith/Heathkit computer kit that was advertised as a closeout for five dollars. He put that together, but the kit required a terminal to work. Feeny's dad found an old teletype machine that Feeny could enter basic code into and the machine would respond with various outputs. Feeny was rapidly growing in knowledge, and read enough information that he was able to hook up to an old black and white TV, which could then display his input and output.

Feeny's dad was a good guy and always kept his ears open for something for his kids. A man had a Zenith computer kit that was too complicated for him to put together, and he was willing to let it go for nearly nothing. It took Feeny three evenings to have this real computer, with real storage devices and a built in monitor, working. There was also a thick book about programming in Basic.

He became a self-taught programmer in Basic at age nine. Between his magazines and the library, he was gaining knowledge by the bushel and truck load. He learned that if he used machine language, he could have a much larger program that would do a lot more than just scroll some words across the screen. He learned to make his computer add, subtract, multiply, and divide. When he taught his computer to compute the square root of a number, Feeny strutted around worse than a bull that had just serviced a heifer. Feeny showed his dad a program that he created to compute all of the costs of the farm, in each of the profit center categories, and give profits and losses with a percentage, highlighting areas that more money than usual was spent.

You see, Feeny was special. His mother knew it and tried to shield the boy from some of the people who would deride and make fun of him. His dad knew it and trained Feeny to become more than he looked. He made sure his son could whip just about any other boy who was not more than twice his size. Wherever he went to school, after the first bully had to crawl away, bullies didn't bother Feeny.

He needed that, as when Feeny was thirteen, he graduated from high school. He was almost embarrassed at this achievement. Fenny had won scholarships to many universities, but chose the nearby Texas Tech in Lubbock, Texas, so he could continue to live at home to pursue his other youthful western interests and help out on the ranch. A father and mother couldn't have been more proud.