From Visual Developer Magazine #50, June/July/August 1998

Our Lady of the Analyst Guide

For many years, science fiction has predicted that machines would understand human speech. Now, for the first time, see what a machine that comprehends human speech makes of science fiction.

Earlier this year IBM sent me a copy of their Via Voice Continuous Speech Recognition package. Hey, man this is what science fiction used to be about..and since I had all these old SF stories in a drawer that I had written (on an IBM typewriter) long before the era of personal computers, I figured it would be apropos to dictate my old SF onto disk using this amazing new technology. Well…sometimes you don't have to be funny. Sometimes the material does it for you. Without further ado, here's first the start of what I wrote…and then what ViaVoice heard. Forgive me, IBM…but the future isn't quite here yet.

Our Lady of the Endless Sky

By Jeff Duntemann

Under a glassy dome made invisible by the lunar night, the Mother of God stretched out her hands to embrace the stone horizon. Beyond the tips of her marble fingers rock and steel lay ash-gray under a waxing Earth. Above her peaceful white brow the stars stood guard to all eternity in a sky so deep it had no bottom.

In front of the native granite pastels in the nearly finished church, Father Bensmiller knelt and prayed.

Let them see what I see now, Mother, and they would run to you.

A faint crunching vibration entered his knees from the dusty floor, newly enlaid with pastel blue tile. Bensmiller looked up. Bright light flashes off metal dazzled his eyes. The polished aluminum boom of a crane hove into view and wobbled slowly out of sight beyond the wall that supported the transparent dome. They were driving it to the construction site, where a third of the station personnel were planting new machines in the lunar soil.

Bensmiller went back to his personal miseries at the feet of the statue. Not an hour before Monsignor Garif had spoken to him on the S-band from Houston. As twice in the past, the news was of the rising number of American churches closing their doors permanently. Not due to a lack of funds; the Interfaith Council assured each pastor a living and attempted to keep the buildings standing. It seemed pointless, however to preach the Gospel to empty pews.

Our Lady of the analyst guide

By Jeff Dunn to the

Under glass the deal made invisible by the lunar night, the mother of God stretched out her arms to embrace the stone horizon. Beyond the tips of their marble fingers rot in steel late-grey under all waxing the earth above her peaceful White Ball the star stood guard to Wally turn a day in a sky so deep it had no bottom.

In front of the native granite pedestal in the nearly finished Church, Father Benz Miller's Delta and pray.

Let them see what I see now, mother, and they would run to you.

A faint printing vibration entered his knees from the dusty floor, New Orleans and laid with pastoral blue tile. Dennis Miller looked out. Bright light-flashes of metal dazzle his eyes. The polished aluminum pool more of a crane holes into view and while slowly out of sight to be on the wall that supported the trans. Dome. They were driving it to the construction site, where a third of the station personnel were planting new machines in the lunar soil.

Then as Miller went back to his personal misery is at the feet of the statute. Not an hour before mine senior dear reef had spoken to him on the S band from Houston as twice in the past the news was of the rising number of American churches closing their doors personally not due to lack of funds; the interface Council assured each pastoral living and attempted to keep the building standing. It seemed. Lists, however, to preach the gospel to empty perfumes.