A Micro Vision

The Hopewell family was first on their block to buy each new product. They had even brought home a robot-though Ed Hopewell got his money back when the Bulatron summoned the police every time he came home late from the office.
Their latest acquisition was the Intelligent Processing Superluminal Integratron, billed as "the very last computer you'll ever want to own." The small black box now sat on the table next to an odd-looking helmet. Deciding not to wait for his wife to return from driving the kids to school, Ed flipped up the screenand donned the helmet. A small spot of laser light appeared.
"Hey!" Ed exclaimed. "It actually works!"
OF COURSE, intoned an androgynous voice.
Ed stared at the machine. "Who said that?"
I DID, answered IPSI. I AM DECODING YOUR BRAIN WAVES.
A little nervous now, Ed glanced down at the box and noticed a small red button. He pushed it.
AH, YOU HAVE ACTIVATED THE TEMPORAL RELEASE, IPSI recited. IN LIEU OF ORDINARY ELECTRICAL SIGNALS, MY SUPERLIMINAL PROCESSOR USES TACHYONS, OR PARTICLES THAT TRAVEL FASTER THAN THE SPEED OF LIGHT. WHATEVER TRAVELS FASTER THAN LIGHT ALSO TRAVELS BACK IN TIME. MY SP, THEREFORE, WILL ENABLE ME TO ANSWER QUESTIONS BEFORE YOU ASK THEM.
"That's impossible," said Ed. "What if I want the answer to-"
FOUR, the machine intoned.
"-two plus two," Ed finished. "Well, if-"
IF I AM SO INTELLIGENT, CAN I COMMENT ON THE COMMODITIES MARKET? CERTAINLY. YOUR INVESTMENT IN SOUTH AFRICAN OSTRICH FEATHERS WILL BRING MRS. HOPEWELL A TIDY PROFIT.
"Mrs. Hope-"
AS YOUR BENEFICIARY ... YOU SEE, MR. HOPEWELL, MY PROCESSOR HAS INFORMED ME OF YOUR IMMINENT DEMISE.
Ed sat frozen in his chair. "My immi "
THREE POINT EIGHT-OH MINUTES FROM NOW, YOU WILL PROCEED DOWN SYCAMORE AVENUE. YOU WILL DRIVE INTO THE PATH OF A LARGE TRUCK WITH FAULTY BRAKES.
"But it doesn't have to be that way!" Ed cried.
THE UNIVERSE MAY AT TIMES BE RATHER UNPREDICTABLE ON THE SUBATOMIC LEVEL, BUT IT IS QUITE FORESEEABLE ON THE LEVEL OF DIURNAL EXISTENCE. YOU WILL LEAVE SHORTLY.
Tearing off the helmet, Ed got up and disconnected the machine. Why should he listen to the ravings of a pile of silicon?
Still, it's never a good idea to tempt fate, he thought as he drifted out to the driveway to check for rain. He would not go into work today. No, he would spend the day tending to nice, safe chores. Settling himself behind the steering wheel, he began a mental list. "It's a good time to get those screens up," he said aloud. "Maybe paint the porch," he added as he turned the key in the ignition.

RICHARD GRIGONIS