GiNaC 1.0.9 now available (AKA Episode I - The Indexed Menace)

[Christian Bauer]

  FADE IN

  EXT. UNIVERSITY BUILDING - EVENING

It is a quiet, hot summer evening. The setting sun casts its last rays on
the Physics Department building, giving the stone walls a wonderful warm
golden glow. The only sounds that are heard are the raspy cries of a black
swarm of ravens that circles in the sky. Two cyclists ride down the street
in front of the building.

                                                               CUT TO

  INT. UNIVERSITY BUILDING, OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

There are numerous desks and computers in this small, dimly lit room in the
fifth floor of the Physics Department building. The walls are lined with
large cupboards, science fiction posters, GiNaC logo designs and hardcopies
of 'Dilbert' cartoons. Quiet piano music fills the air.

Only two people are still working at this time of day. One, RICHY K. is
sitting in a corner of the room, close to the window, with his bare feet
laid on top of the desk and a notebook computer in his lap. The other,
CHRISTIAN B., is busy studying eBay article listings on one of two monitors
on his desk in the middle of the room.

RICHY K. presses a few keys on his notebook and takes a sip from a cocktail
glass. Then he speaks without turning his eyes away from the screen.

               RICHY K.
    There's a tarball at the usual place now.

               CHRISTIAN B.
    Cool...

CHRISTIAN B. clicks on the 'shell' icon on his computer's desktop and starts
typing commands.

               CHRISTIAN B.
    So we're going to release today?

               RICHY K.
    Yup.

He brings up a Mozilla window displaying the Slashdot front page on his
notebook.

               CHRISTIAN B.
    Did you put the champagne in the fridge?

               RICHY K.
    Pardon?

               CHRISTIAN B.
      (louder)
    Did you put the champagne in the fridge?

               RICHY K.
    We don't have any champagne.

               CHRISTIAN B.
    How can we release without champagne?

               RICHY K.
    Only drinking all the time...

CHRISTIAN B. types some more commands.

               CHRISTIAN B.
    Is this 1.1.0?

               RICHY K.
    Nope, 1.0.9.

               CHRISTIAN B.
    Will we have champagne when we get to 1.1.0?

               RICHY K.
    Maybe...

CHRISTIAN B. slams down the 'Return' key on his keyboard and leans back.
Progress messages of a compiler run start scrolling down the screen. He
returns his attention to the eBay listings on the second monitor.

               CHRISTIAN B.
    They're selling an eight-CPU Origin for 180,000 here...

               RICHY K.
    Cool. Tell Hubert to buy it.

               CHRISTIAN B.
    Where is Hubert, anyway?

               RICHY K.
    I don't know...

RICHY K. takes another sip from his orange-red cocktail. CHRISTIAN B. glances
over the compiler output but then looks back at his browser window and types
in a URL.

               CHRISTIAN B.
    Did you get yesterday's User Friendly?

               RICHY K.
    What?

               CHRISTIAN B.
      (louder)
    Yesterday's User Friendly. Did you understand the punch line?

               RICHY K.
    Nope.

               CHRISTIAN B.
    What does that Russian sentence mean?

               RICHY K.
    Don't know.

               CHRISTIAN B.
    You ought to know. You've been in Russia.

               RICHY K.
    They all spoke English there.

               CHRISTIAN B.
    Oh.

The compiler run is still in progress. CHRISTIAN B. grabs his coffee mug,
slowly stands up, and walks over to the coffee machine. After filling the
mug he returns to his place.

               CHRISTIAN B.
    You're already writing the announcement?

               RICHY K.
    It's your turn this time.

               CHRISTIAN B.
    No, it's not. I wrote the announcement for 1.0.8.

               RICHY K.
    No, you didn't. I did. It's your turn now.

               CHRISTIAN B.
    It's always 'my turn'. Why is it always my turn?

               RICHY K.
    It isn't. You're only trying to sneak out of having to write it.

               CHRISTIAN B.
    I'm not.

He turns back to the monitors. Seeing that the compiler run has finished
successfully, he continues to enter commands.

               CHRISTIAN B.
    RPM builds fine. I'll move it to the FTP server.

               RICHY K.
    Pardon?

               CHRISTIAN B.
      (louder)
    I will upload the RPM to the FTP server.

               RICHY K.
    Suit yourself...

               CHRISTIAN B.
    Did you tag the CVS?

RICHY K. gasps with ostentation and starts pressing keys.

               RICHY K.
    Tagged.

               CHRISTIAN B.
    Nearly...

CHRISTIAN B. still hacks away at his keyboard.

               RICHY K.
    Are you writing the announcement now?

               CHRISTIAN B.
    It's your turn. Besides, I can't write announcements without champagne.

               RICHY K.
    There should still be some wine in the cupboard.

CHRISTIAN B. turns around to the cupboard behind him and opens the lower
door. His face brightens up when he sees several bottles of red and white
wine.

               CHRISTIAN B.
      (smiling)
    I'll write the announcement...

  FADE OUT