“We reached a détente,” Sheldon said.
That night, Sheldon set up the MPC on the back porch. It was 50 degrees. He wore a winter coat, gloves with the fingertips cut off, and a headlamp.
George read it, chuckled, and handed it back. “He gets it from your side.”
As they carried the MPC back inside, Missy yelled from the living room, “Did the nerds win?”
“A compromise, Father,” Sheldon said, not looking up from his keyboard. “Mother said no computer in my room after 8 PM. She said nothing about the dining room. I have exploited a loophole. It’s what the Founding Fathers intended.”
The problem was, Sheldon’s mother, Mary, had just laid down a new law. No computer in the house after 8 PM. Because, according to her, “God didn’t part the Red Sea so you could stay up playing Oregon Trail .”
“You are my greatest achievement,” Sheldon whispered to the machine. “Second only to my theory of dark matter.”
“Son,” George sighed, rubbing his temples. “What’s this?”