As he scribbled, the computer converted his script
handwriting into clear text.
"Looking good," Peter said, watching the software do its thing
quickly and accurately. "Hey, no mistakes," he said when Paul
finished jotting down several lines. It took him a moment to
realize that what Paul had written were the lyrics to a song. A
Kate McGreggor song.
Byron applauded and, noticing Peter's ruminating, elbowed him.
"Good stuff, Paul," Peter said quietly.
"Hey, Ricky," Byron called, "how'd you manage to speed up the
recognition so much?"
A smiling Rick peered over the edge of another nearby partition.
"You can thank my pals at MIT. They were kind enough to slip me
some new algorithms at that conference I went to last week," Rick
said. "It zips up the language translation stuff, too. Watch." He
punched a few keys and the text on the display suddenly changed
to Spanish, accents and all, then, a keystroke later, Cyrillic.
"Okay, come on now," Peter said with a clap, putting an end to
the show. "We've only got another forty-five minutes," he said,
checking the clock on the wall. "I want you guys to run through
it once more to make sure there aren't any glitches."
"It's all working," Paul assured him, a little defensively. Just
like old times.
Peter smiled. "Okay, okay."
Byron said, "We've got the whole works all ready to show him.
Pages:
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358