They Call Him The Wizard: Chapter 1 - The Shop

They Call Him The Wizard: Chapter 1 - The Shop They called him "The Wizard," not because he cast spells or chanted incantations, but because he had a knack for making the impossible happen with wires, gears, and a bit of duct tape. He was a man of many talents, but he’d always tell you, with a smirk, that his only real magic was a roll of electrical tape and an insatiable curiosity. It all started back in 1975 when the Wizard was running a little motorsports shop that smelled of grease, gasoline, and opportunity. He had a vision, a wild, futuristic idea: "Why not bring this whole motorcycle inventory thing into the computer age?" Everyone around him scratched their heads, figuring he’d lost a bolt or two. After all, computers were the size of refrigerators and about as friendly as a hungry bear back then. Ignoring the naysayers, the Wizard pooled his pennies and managed to lease an IBM 5100—a machine that looked more like a rejected typewriter prototype than anything else. It wasn’t much to look at: a bulky keyboard, a hulking box, and no screen to speak of, just a paper feed that spit out information like some kind of old-timey telegraph. It chattered, hummed, and smelled faintly of burning plastic when it got too excited. But for the Wizard, this was his Excalibur. For weeks, he tinkered with it, loading in part numbers, cross-referencing repair manuals, and building the most elaborate catalog of motorcycle knowledge anyone had ever seen. As far as he was concerned, he was on the brink of revolutionizing the whole industry. But, as with many grand ideas, reality had a way of sneaking up with a sledgehammer. The lease on the building ran out, and so did his time with the beloved 5100. He had to pack it up, tape down the cables, and say goodbye to his electronic marvel. Rumor had it that some mysterious time traveler named John Titor ended up with the very same IBM 5100 years later. Titor supposedly hauled it off to IBM's headquarters in Ocala to tinker with it for his world-saving mission—or so the internet conspiracies claimed. But that’s another story for another day. The Wizard wasn’t one to wallow. He gathered a ragtag group of dreamers, thinkers, and a couple of guys who were just there for the free coffee, and together, they decided to form a company. Thus, Systems Marked Incorporation was born, like a phoenix rising from the ashes of unpaid rent and overdue invoices. Their goal? To build epic sound stages for rock and roll bands, and maybe dabble in a bit of electronic wizardry on the side. It wasn’t long before reality, again, decided to drop a piano on their plans. The financial side of things got wobbly—like a one-legged stool at a biker bar—and the team scattered to the wind, chasing other dreams, other ventures. But the Wizard? Oh, he wasn’t done yet. He took a detour through the world of brain waves and electro-junk, salvaging components from old radios, televisions, and anything else he could get his hands on. His ultimate creation was a brainwave synchronizer—a device that would hum at exactly 10 Hz, syncing the mind to that frequency. The contraption looked like something from a sci-fi B-movie, with wires spilling out, knobs that did who-knows-what, and a steady pulse that seemed to resonate with the very fabric of reality. One night, he hooked himself up to it, cranked the dial, and leaned back. What happened next was a journey that words could hardly capture. He felt as if he were floating in an ocean of stars, the world dissolving into waves of light and sound. He swore he saw Elvis riding a comet, waving at him while jamming on an electric guitar made of pure neon. It was, in his own words, "a trip and a half." And that was just the beginning of the Wizard’s adventures. But as he often said with a chuckle, “That’s a story for the next sequel.” And so, the Wizard continued his journey, bouncing from one madcap idea to another, leaving behind a trail of sparks, solder, and the faint scent of burning circuits. Because when you’re a wizard of electronics, the magic never really ends—it just keeps rewiring itself. To be continued... Global Robotics Corporation globalroboticscorp.com Please like comment and subscribe