An unfortunate incident occurred here in Austin, Texas over the weekend that carries an important message for all users of ultra-smart phones and similar devices. Please read carefully this account.
On Thursday last, a local resident was flying back to town from a long trip. He recently had had his entire house hooked up to a centralized control system operated through his state-of-the-art ultra-smart phone employed as a remote. All electrical appliances were equipped with sophisticated sensors. Upon landing, he immediately took out his ultra-phone and instruction book. While the plane was taxiing on the tarmac, he quickly scanned through the abridged instructional book which he had tucked into his knapsack. The task of finding the appropriate commands was facilitated by his earlier annotation of all 512 pages. What he had learned in the 20-hour orientation course, part of the purchase package, quickly came back to him. He took the 15 minutes of disembarkation time to punch in his commands. Since there were just two, the task entailed only 172 digits. So, freshly brewed organic coffee and a jacuzzi bath brimming with 89-degree water would be awaiting him.
Soon he was driving home with visions of a blissful evening dancing through his head -- interrupted only by brief snatches of self-congratulation for his sagacity in availing himself fully of the wonders of modern electronic technology. Turning into his cul de sac, he was astonished to see an array of fire trucks and emergency vehicles drawn up in front of his house. It was smoldering. Most of it had been reduced to rubble -- as if hit by a bomb. Close. As he was told by the polite police lieutenant, a drone strike had demolished his not yet mortgage-free residence.
When the story finally was pieced together by investigators, it was determined that somehow all his number punching had placed him on the wave-length of Central Command in Tampa, Florida. The poor man had himself called in the rocket attack. By a strange quirk of good fortune, the coordinates had been so precise that his den and family room took the brunt of the strike. His kitchen and bathroom were pretty much intact. Therefore, he was able to offer the emergency workers a hot cup of coffee -- and, later, he consoled himself in a warm 89-degree bath with the four massage nozzles he had requested operating perfectly.
It was in that cozy situation that he received the telephone call from Colonel Warren, spokesman for Central Command, who expressed his regrets for the error. Warren explained that controller records showed that Signal Intelligence had confirmed his den as the site of an Afghan wedding party. Moreover, aerial drone photographs revealed a building in close vicinity with the initials M.S.F. painted on the roof.
He slipped back into the bath reassured that such dedicated men and women were sacrificing their time and comfort to keeping him safe and free.