Chronicle-1995

recognised under certain names, robbers; muggers; thieves; murderers; rapists, being the most common, these creatures who were (surprisingly) bom human, have taken to preying on the weak, defenceless and helpless.They are rarely caught,and are responsible for more deaths than almost any other cause on the planet. But it's not quite as bad as is seems.The night is not so dark as it may appear. The most widely accepted and acknowledged creature of the night is a man who, although being dead for more than a few centuries, is still believed in by almost every under ten year old in civilised countries. Father Christmas,St. Nicholas,Santa Glaus,different namesfor the same person;a man who is meantto visit every house in the world on Christmas eve, and leave whatever presents you asked him for.(If you're good,that is!) So, whatever you believe in goes: pixies, elves, gnomes, spirits, murderers, tooth fairies, demons, devils, werewolves, bogey-men, dream-stealers, vampires,or just plain old Jeffrey Dahmer. Good night! Matthew Roper Form 4 A HOSPITAL VISIT I will never forget the day I ran into the hospital, my heart racing with excitement, my body working hard and my mind thinking overtime. I sped lightly up the stairs and into his room where he had lain for so long. But now the sheets were folded neatly, his flowers, books and cards were gone, and his bed made to look like a thin white box. As in a dream I turned slowly around and walked carefully down the stairs, my body numb with the fear ofthe worst.The bang ofblood in the brain shut out all of the shameful and posed faces as I walked slowly across the waiting room to where my family sat in a shocked world of reality and a practical joke."Where's granddad?" I asked. "Mum, where's ..." I stopped. Tears welled in my eyes, my throat ached with agony and I knew he had died. I looked around at all the sad, puzzled faces. On the other side ofthe room sat my two younger sisters. They had realised that death could reach into their midst, youth could not shelter them and they were confused. They had loved him, shared in fun, excitement and mischief with him and now that sat together like a pair of frightened birds. The smell of disinfectant surrounded me like a cloud of thick, choking smoke and I ran towards the open doors gasping for air. Sitting on the step outside I gasped the air into my lungs. The numbness wore off and the will to live flooded into me.But still the seconds seemed like hours and the minutes, decades."Why me?"I asked."What have I done to deserve this?" "Nothing!"my father said behind me,"Nothing at all!" "Then why,dad?"I asked. "I don't know",he replied."But something I do know is that this is a blessing in disguise. It will make us stronger,give us new life and help us grow".Only then did I stop crying and realise the true need of death and loss, and the numerous gifts which accompany it. The last gift that my granddad had given us was his death. by Morgan Hayes Form 3 LIFE,THE OTHER THING I DO I am in a house of treasures. Surrounding me is the collective knowledge of five million people. I have a printout halfan inch thick.Each page has the names of66 files. Each file contains one hundred pages of valuable information.With this,I will be supreme,ready to take on the world, but the figures in the bottom right comer,bed time and pocket money, are blinking, flashing, stabbing my conscience.They hiss their story:"04:18/R23.46". This is an example of Intemet addiction. Of the 8 million(or was that 8 billion?) people around the world who are"wired",roughly 20% ofthem,one out ofevery five, have this kind of "addiction" to the 'net. In our universities, these people spend more and more of their time in the computer rooms, more and more of their time "on-line". Their marks, and their social lives off line, disappear into oblivion. They don't care. They are more interested in proving to the 'net'that cold fusion is possible. Life becomes:The Other Thing They Do. Many people say that this is an example of computers becoming our masters. But is it? Let me tell you about my experiences on-line. I first bought a modem (a device which lets you connect to other computers via the telephone lines) in September of 1994. During the December holidays, I went wild. I spoke to people about my favourite topics, became involved in a heated discussion on abortion, played multi-player strategy games, and took over worlds, expanded my knowledge of computers in huge leaps, and even played chess with self-proclaimed Grand Netmasters. By the end of the month our home telephone bill had risen from R250 to R995. I am still trying to pay off the debt, but I don't regret it. I am just starting to go on-line again, although this time with more restraint.ButIcannot stay off-line for long.If you don't use the 'net', you are dead to it. People ignore you and that really hurts. Whatrules you in the 'net'is not computers,but people, and incomprehensibly huge amounts of raw information. The computers are merely the tool that is used to bring this effect about. Clearly then,the current Intemet is not an artificial intelligence which is about to declare man redundant and destroy him. It is made up of people, talking to other people over computer. But what about real artificial intelligence, as I mentioned above? We are proceeding towards "thinking machines" at an incredible rate. Genetic algorithms,an idea developed in the sixties and coming back into vogue now, are programs which change themselves, spawn children and mutate in much the same manner as people do. Perhaps one day machinepeople will exist, with full civil rights. Perhaps one day machines will do our work for us,discover new planets and life forms for us and our civilisation will sink into a Utopian state. What then if the machines we created in ourimage decide that we are useless,and destroy us? 44 Kearsney Chronicle 1995

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