It was the end of term, but not really the end of term. Ella had finished her GCSEs and now there was this strange leftover stretch where she had nothing much to do. She’d have to wait for the results, but she reckoned she’d be fine; the art college she was heading for seemed far more interested in her portfolio than her grades anyway.
But Ella had a problem.
Her little laptop had survived school—just—but it wasn’t going to cut it for what came next. It was light enough to take to college, and she could use their specialist machines while she was there, but the digital arts she wanted to dive into needed something fast. Something that could handle audio and video editing without wheezing like a pensioner on a treadmill.
What she needed was a workstation.
And workstations were expensive.
She’d shown her dad the prices that morning. He’d flinched so hard she thought he might have pulled something. But he’d said he’d think about it, and they could talk when he got home from work. He was now half an hour late, and Ella was pacing the living room like a cat waiting for food.
Finally, she heard the car door slam. Her dad walked in, waving what looked like a large coffee jar full of… slime.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said cheerfully. “I was picking this up for you.”
“Slime?”
“Gloop, darling. It’s called gloop. You want a high‑powered computer, I’ve brought you the gloop to make it with.”
He was clearly enjoying himself. Ella, however, had the horrible suspicion he was deadly serious.
“Make me a coffee while I get changed,” he said. “I’ll explain.”
“Okay. Want some slime in it?”
“No thanks!” he called back, laughing as he headed upstairs.
When he returned, they took their coffees into the conservatory. Dad picked up the jar again and gave it a little shake.
“One of the teams in the company next door to mine has been using this stuff to build some seriously fast computers—way more than good enough for what you need. It’s a synthetic biological gel that emulates brain tissue.”
Ella stared at him. He continued, warming to his theme.
“That’s the key to their performance. Up until now, this kind of thing has been even more expensive than the kit you showed me last night. But this—” another wave of the jar “—is from one of the universities. They’ve made cultures available for anyone to use. Geoff, who gave me this, says it’s close to the very best, but a tiny fraction of the cost.”
He waved the jar again, as if it were a prize on a game show.
“And they have very strict quality control. Anything that doesn’t meet their exact standards gets discarded. This one was rejected for being ‘not quite the right colour’. They incinerate the ones they don’t use.”
Ella was dumbfounded. She wanted a computer. He had brought her… slime. What was she supposed to do with it?
He pushed a sheet of paper toward her.
“What! You have to be kidding. You think I can build a computer with stuff off eBay and—” she poked the jar “—slime?”
“Nope,” he said, grinning. “But we can. I’ve built computers before. This will be the first one with a water bath, though. It’ll be fun, and it won’t take long. If you can get everything ordered—Geoff emailed me all the links—we can build it over the weekend.”
Ella grimaced. This was a long way from unwrapping a shiny Lenovo box, which was what she’d had in mind. But if it got her the machine she needed… and honestly, she’d always enjoyed making things with her mum. Doing something with Dad might be nice for once.
“Okay,” she said. “Could be good. Let’s do it. Give me the list.”
He beamed—he’d clearly expected more resistance.
“Brilliant! I’ll email you Geoff’s list. And take this—” he handed her a small drive “—it’s the boot module. Installs a minimal environment: language libraries, basic English, syntax rules, comms stack, text I/O drivers. Also seed datasets—general knowledge, maths tables, dictionary.”
He caught her blank look. “It’s the BIOS plus operating system for the gel. Enough scaffolding so we can talk to it.”
Ella replied deadpan, “I understood perfectly the first time.”
It was Wednesday evening. She had to be in school on Friday for the final session of the year, which meant she wouldn’t be around to receive deliveries. Their next‑door neighbours were recently retired, so she popped round to check they’d take parcels for her. They agreed, delighted to be useful.
Then she opened Dad’s email, followed all the links, and ordered everything Geoff recommended.
Except for one thing.
All the normal ATX cases sucked. Black or silver tin boxes. She’d be looking at this thing for years. No way.
Phone a friend.
She knew exactly who to call. One of her school chums, co‑founder of their two‑person club “Nerdlore”. She was obsessed with mythology—her bedroom shelves were proof. He was obsessed with computers. He swore he was genuinely interested when she rambled about ancient gods, and in return she nodded politely through his gaming monologues. And crucially, he’d just built himself a new PC.
She called him.
“Hi Duncan. I need a cool ATX case. Dad is paying.” She thumbed the Barclaycard affectionately. “Recommendations?”
“Whoo‑hoo! You’re building a computer? Can I help?”
“I’ll tell you all about it Friday. Case?”
“Thermaltake Core P3. Snow White edition if you can get it. So cool. But it’s like three times the price of a basic box.”
“I think Dad will be relieved, honestly. He knows I still haven’t forgiven him for not just helping me buy one. Talk Friday—I need to get it ordered.”
Ella’s shopping list
She typed it all into eBay, picked a good seller with fast delivery, and was about to hit “Buy” when an email from Duncan popped up.
“Get a lighting kit link, will look so cool you’ll freeze.”
Ella added on to the list, clicked BUY. All done.
Now she just had to wait for everything to arrive.