The basement supercomputer has been acting up again.

Sadly, it woke me up from cryogenic sleep, where I had been snoozing for over 25,000 years, resting in SpaceShip Earth while creeping in spirals ever so slowly to my next stop on the way back home.

YAWN!  Where are we?

Hmm…this looks interesting.  But…what’s this?

Where are the cave people?

Where are the hunters and gatherers?

What language do they speak after we gave them a new vocabulary to go with the current (or previous, if you will) generation of central nervous system?

Looks like I’m going to adjust my future prediction algorithm slightly to accommodate the conditions that put me no longer in bottom of an anonymous hill and instead in the middle of…what do they call it?  A suburban neighbourhood?

Excuse me.  What is the name for this structure?  A semi-d?  Okay, thanks.

It’s interesting, comparing my expectations to their reality.

According to my algorithm, the newborns should have mastered their alphabets and numbering system in utero.

Instead, they’re still taking years to master the basics of innerspecies communications.

Let’s see…how is their interspecies communications?

Excuse me.  What is that tree saying?  ‘Go hug a root, you green environazi treehugger’?  No, it’s saying that it’s hungry.

Looks like another major tweak is in order.

Oh well, the supercomputer was right.  I did need to wake up just now, didn’t I?

A few twists of the dial, a few reconnections of grass and tree root networks and we’ll have Spaceship Earth back in tiptop shape before I return to the dream of dreams where I’m home, no longer managing a planet as my transportation device, quietly rubbing what you might possibly call elbows to reproduce our kind and wallowing in battery acid baths for exoskeleton rejuvenation.

Supercomputer, I’m ready if you are.  The cicadas are offering their wonderful soothing bedtime music.

Three….

Two…

One..

Zzzzzzzz.