Inventing The Intranet
CERN common room, 1993.
Tim Berners-Lee: Remember that time we invented the Internet?
Robert Cailliau: Yes, although we actually invented the World Wide Web which is different because -
Tim: Right okay I don’t care. I only bring it up because I’ve had an even better idea. I call it “The Intranet.”
Robert: What is it?
Tim: It’s just like the Internet, except only for work stuff. Workplace news and events, staff rotas, health and safety guidelines. Exciting, yeah?
Robert: It sounds quite dull.
Tim: Typical, that’s bluddy typical. I work my arse off all week on a new idea and you cannot wait a single second before shooting it down with your negativity rifle.
Robert: It’s just -
Tim: No, no, no. You’re right, as always! My ideas are horrible and stupid and so am I and I’m going to throw my plans in the bin and then stick my head in a proton beam. Plans. Bin. Head. Beam. Happy? ARE YOU HAPPY?
Tim bursts into tears and storms out. Robert follows. Al Gore enters and rummages through the bin. Tim and Robert re-enter and sneak up on Gore.
Tim: Seize him!
Robert wrestles Gore to the ground and puts him in a leglock.
Gore: The Intranet is mine! Finders-keepers!
Tim: Shush up, Gore. The Intranet isn’t real. Humanity would never accept the imposition of such a soul-eroding network. The Intranet was merely was a rouse, designed to help us capture you.
Gore: Damnation! Free me at once!
Tim: As soon as you promise to stop stealing my amazing ideas.
Robert: Our ideas.
Tim: Not now, Rob. Gore, what do you say?
Gore: (mumbles) I swear on almighty Ra I shall never steal any of your ideas ever again. Now unhand me, you Belgian brute! Your fingernails are digging into my ezcema!
Gore is set free.
Gore: You have bested me on this occasion but be warned; when I am elected President I will take credit for all your ideas and everyone will believe me because I will be EL PRESIDENTE.
Tim: How can you be so sure you’ll be President?
Gore: I’m the most charismatic man in the world. It is inevitable.
Robert: It’s true, Tim. He’s the policy wonk with the hip-hop vibe, Tim. There will never be another like him, Tim. Tim, Tim. Timmy, Tim, Tim.
Tim: Inevitable? We’ll see about that. Throw him in the Intranet!
Robert grabs Gore’s finger and sticks it in a computer port. A flash of light and Gore has disappeared.
Gore: (tinny echo) Where am I?
Tim: Inside the intranet! It’s vortex of dullness will drain your charisma. You will soon be reduced to a staid shadow of your former self! Lunch?
Gore: (tinny echo) One block of Weetabix, tap water, three moon-dried raisins.
Tim: Not you, Gore. Rob?
Robert: Can’t move. 97% of brain engaged in pun creation. Me catch later up you will.
Tim exits. Ten minutes pass.
Gore: (tinny echo) Almost. Try a different letter.
Robert: Al Gorp?
Twenty minutes pass.
Robert: Ah! (clears throat) Adieu, Al Bore!
Robert backflips away.