Professor Olson’s Beauty Matrix

The history of computation, it would seem, is confined to
the latter half of the twentieth century. Indeed: figures influential in the
development of the PC include Bill Gates, Stanley Kubrick and Al Gore, all of
which have only been active in the past few decades. However, recent evidence
points to early devices of logic and mathematics which may have been important
in the events surrounding the Civil War.

Commander Arlo Bessemer was General Ulysses S. Grant’s
second-in-command and in charge of executing the Union leader’s orders. History
tells us that, due to alcohol consumption and a severe case of syphilis,
General Grant (brilliant on the battlefield he may have been) was prone to
outlandish desires. From a memo, written by Grant’s own hand and sent to
Commander Bessemer:

March 8, 1863
Bessemer! Where are my towels? You promised me the
freshest towels when we were in St. Louis! God damn it, you insufferable piece
of shit! Give them here!
Love,
Ulysses

This is simply one example of the many disturbing ravings of
General Grant’s perverted mind. However, one message of his remains of note for
the world of computing.

August11, 1863
Why can’t I have a machine that will tell me what the
Confederates are going to do? It isn’t fair! I want a machine that will tell me
what the fucking Rebels are going to be doing!
Love,
Ulysses

Bessemer, ambitious and afraid to disappoint his leader,
immediately began to research primitive computers. Or, as they were known in
the nineteenth century, “infernal data engorgers.” His investigation revealed
an interesting character onto the American computational-historical-martial
landscape.

Professor Bert Olson was (in 1863) a ninety-eight year old
professor of Poetry at Sandalwood University in Newport, Rhode Island. The son
of a poor investment banker, he had been publishing a quarterly review of
poetry from the Western Hemisphere for fifty years. He was also a prolific poet
himself.

What Commander Bessemer discovered (and what makes Prof.
Olson pertinent to this history [short of his eccentric demeanor and accent
{which I haven’t even mentioned yet}]), besides Prof. Olson’s eccentric
demeanor and accent, was that he was something of an engineer. In fact, his
life’s work and the source of his poetry (which wasn’t particularly good) was
an invention that he called the Beauty Matrix. Essentially, it was a primitive
computer designed to receive a subject as input. It would then generate a poem,
which according to Prof. Olson’s calculations would be “beautiful.”

Misunderstanding the exact use and specification of Prof.
Olson’s Beauty Matrix, Commander Bessemer had it confiscated and declared
property of the Union Army. Prof. Olson’s eccentricity (vaguely referred to
earlier by myself) has been noted as one reason he lodged a formal protest in
the form of teaching classes in lonely Sandalwood University nude.

Installing the Beauty Matrix at U.S. Army headquarters in
Darshingwoodville City, Philadelphia, General Grant’s excitement (and
inebriation) got the better of him. His first question to this archaic machine:
where will the Rebels strike next? The Beauty Matrix’s response:

Thy friend in time of utmost need
Doth variation beg.
For if thy needs be circumscribed,
Yon soul want for a leg!

General Grant, far from being disturbed and angry, was
greatly pleased with the results. Though a professional writer I may be and
well versed in the vagaries of the Civil War period, I cannot make up my mind
whether or not Bessemer’s use of a poetry computer is more ludicrous, or if the
insanity of the day can best be attributed to General Grant’s belief in the
output of Prof. Olson’s machine.

What is clear to this bemused and somewhat appalled
historian is that General Grant, by following the advice of the Beauty Matrix,
won every battle that followed. Not a single man died under his command
(besides Leggings Two-Biscuit, who we are all familiar with). The Beauty Matrix
was locked in a warehouse in Washington D.C. until the 1980’s, when cat burglar
Steve Jobs broke in, stole the machine, and synthesized the modern iPod.
However, I can only imagine what the Beauty Matrix itself would print out the
following if I were to input “The Legacy of the Beauty Matrix” right now:

I love my little baby!
Her toes are cut and chubby.
Fat lines her tummy and her bum.
Gubby flubby wubby!