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Helloooo, my darling TechnoCubs! Your favorite IT diva is back, and it’s Friday Funday! We’re going to let our fur down, grab your favorite honey-mead cocktail (or blue milk with a splash of something stronger), and get crazier than we already are.
Because frankly, the everyday digital dilemmas rarely get my processors revving. And I’m dying from having my binge-watching interrupted! (I’m currently catching up on “CyberScams She Wrote,” but “Real Bitcoin Miners of Silicon Valley” and “Project Server Room” are next in my queue. Murder mysteries with malware, cryptocurrency drama, AND reality TV about tech startups? Be still, my circuit-board-loving heart!)
So, for a change of pace, I’m pulling back the curtain on my… dubious past for another episode of TechBear’s Guide to the Multiverse! This time, sugar, it really was a long time ago, in a service call far, far away. When dispatch sent me coordinates—not an address, actual coordinates—I thought it was Disney’s newest attraction. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.
Get ready for loose power cables, Imperial encryption from the disco era, and why even Wookiees need a good grooming session!
The Strangest Service Call Ever
Listen, sugar, I’ve had some strange service calls in my time. But this one takes the blue milk cake.
Dispatch sends me coordinates—not an address, actual coordinates—for some “urgent repair” at the Mos Eisley Spaceport. I figured it was Disney’s newest Star Wars attraction. Honestly? I was excited. Nothing wrong with getting paid to fix a POS system at Galaxy’s Edge. Maybe I could catch the Country Bear Jamboree afterward on the company dime.
Welcome to the Dust Bowl
I pull up to this dusty parking lot. And honey, when I say dusty, I mean my allergies went from zero to Beyoncé-high-note in seconds flat.
There’s a collection of the strangest vehicles I’ve ever seen. A security guard who looks like he bathes in beef jerky points me toward “Docking Bay 94.”
“You the tech?” he grunts with a cocky grin.
“No, darlin’, I’m the tooth fairy,” I drawl, batting my eyelashes. “The toolbox is just for show.”
He doesn’t laugh. Nobody appreciates good comedy anymore.
The Most Glorious Junk Heap
I follow his directions. I find myself staring at what can only be described as the most glorious junk heap I’ve ever laid eyes on. Like someone welded a flying saucer to an industrial air conditioner. Then let a five-year-old decorate it with random pipes.
“Hello?” I call out, knocking on what I assume is a door. “TechBear IT Services? Someone called about connectivity issues?”
The ramp lowers with a hiss and a cloud of steam. That does nothing for my hair. Standing at the top is a tall gentleman with a vest that hasn’t been fashionable since 1977. He’s got a holster on his thigh that’s giving “Portland hipster who’s very serious about his antique stapler collection.”
Meeting the Crew
“You the repair guy?” he asks, looking me up and down like I’m the one dressed for a convention. As I follow him inside, I hear him mutter under his breath, “Where’d they dig this guy up? Ursa Minor?”
“Repair bear,” I correct him. “Now, what seems to be the problem with this heap of… your ship?”
He ushers me inside. Sweet merciful heavens, the interior is worse than the exterior. Exposed wiring everywhere. Panels missing. Seats held together with what appears to be space duct tape.
“Ship won’t jump to lightspeed,” he explains. He leads me to a cockpit that looks like it was designed by someone who thought ‘ergonomics’ was a European DJ. “We’ve got Imperial cr— I mean, we’ve got a schedule to keep.”
The Hairiest Co-Pilot Ever
In the co-pilot seat is the tallest, hairiest man I have ever encountered. Makes my ex, a different kind of bear altogether, look like he’s sporting peach fuzz.
“This is Chewie,” says Vest Man. “I’m Han.”
“Charmed,” I reply. Chewie makes a series of growls that sound like my garbage disposal when it’s eating a spoon.
“He says the hyperdrive motivator’s been giving us trouble,” Han translates.
“The hyperdrive… motivator,” I repeat slowly. “Is that like a router, or…?”
Princess Problems
Han points me toward the back of the ship. “Engineering’s through there. The princess and the kid are trying to fix it, but they just keep making it worse.”
I follow his directions. I find a young woman in a white jumpsuit with the most architecturally ambitious hairstyle I’ve ever seen. Woulda been fabulous if she didn’t look like she had headphones made out of honeybuns stuck to her head. She’s yelling at a blonde kid who looks like he should be selling lemonade, not handling tools.
Her general attitude screamed ‘Karen’. She was yelling at the poor kid like he was a store clerk who told her the card declined.
“Excuse me,” I interject. “TechBear. Here about your… hyperdrive issues?”
“Thank the maker!” the boy exclaims. “The hyperdrive motivator won’t engage, and we’ve got three Star Destroyers on our tail!”
The Oldest Problem in the Galaxy
I take a deep breath. “Listen, sunshine, I don’t know what convention y’all escaped from. But I’m just here to fix whatever’s broken so I can get back to my scheduled beauty rest.”
The princess points to an open panel with flashing lights. “The power coupling to the hyperdrive is malfunctioning. We’ve tried bypassing the main neural interface, but—”
I hold up a hand. “Honey, you lost me after ‘power coupling.’ Let me take a look.”
I peer into the panel. It’s an absolute nightmare of unlabeled cables and blinking components. But after twenty years in IT, you develop a sense for when something just ain’t right. And sure enough, there it is—the oldest problem in the galaxy.
“Well, would you look at that,” I sigh. I reach in and firmly push a connector back into place. “Y’all have a loose power cable. It’s not even halfway plugged in.”
I give it a twist to lock it. Suddenly the whole ship hums to life. The lights stop blinking red and turn a calming blue.
It Really Was That Simple
“That’s… it?” the princess asks incredulously.
“That’s it, Your Highness. You might want to secure these cables better. A little zip tie goes a long way. Especially if you’re doing whatever kind of… rough driving y’all seem to be doing.”
The boy’s eyes are wide. “You’re a miracle worker!”
“No, sugar. Just someone who knows that ninety percent of technical problems can be solved by making sure everything’s plugged in proper.”
Surprise! We’re Going to Space
As if on cue, the intercom crackles. “Hey! Whatever you did back there worked! Prepare for lightspeed!”
Before I can say “my invoice rate doubles after midnight,” the ship makes a sound like a thousand blenders all running at once. I’m thrown against the wall as the stars outside the small window stretch into lines.
By the time I stagger back to the cockpit, I’m clutching my toolbox and what’s left of my dignity. We’re in actual outer space. Not the themed restaurant kind. The vacuum-will-kill-you kind.
“So,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady as I watch an honest-to-god planet disappear beneath us, “about my return trip…”
Han swivels in his chair with the most unapologetic grin I’ve ever seen. “Slight change of plans. How do you feel about stopping by Alderaan first? We’ve got a little delivery to make.”
I sink into the nearest seat, which growls. “Oops! Sorry Chewie!”
Missing My Shows
Now, being stuck on a spaceship with a schedule that apparently includes “stopping by other planets” isn’t exactly how I planned to spend my Thursday.
I’m missing Law & Order: Technical Services Division and The Golden Devs. Not to mention I’ve got three weeks of The Dev and the Wireless to catch up on. Uncle Bobby is still on hold waiting for a live customer service agent!
At least I can use the travel time to freshen up.
The Ultimate Makeover Session
I pull out my compact grooming kit from the toolbox—never leave home without it. I start working on my own fur. Nothing like hyperspace travel to mess up a perfectly styled coat.
I’m halfway through brushing out the tangles when I notice Chewie watching me with intense interest.
He makes a low, questioning growl and gestures at my brush, then at himself. Then makes what can only be described as a pleading whimper.
“Oh, honey,” I say, looking at him properly for the first time. “You need some help with the hard-to-reach spots, don’t you?”
He nods vigorously and turns around. He points over his shoulder at his back with a series of frustrated grunts. Even with those long Wookiee arms, there are clearly places he just can’t manage on his own.
Time for the Full Treatment
“Alright, big guy, come here.” I pat the seat beside me. “Let’s get you sorted. And I mean sorted.”
The relief on his face is immediate. He settles beside me with a grateful rumble that vibrates through the whole ship. He presents his back like he’s been waiting months for someone to offer.
“Easy there, handsome,” I murmur, opening up the full arsenal of my grooming kit. “We’re going to get you looking like the cover model you were meant to be. First, let’s work through these mats with a wide-tooth comb…”
Han glances back from the pilot’s seat. “I’ve never seen him sit still for anyone like that.”
“It’s all about the technique, sugar. And the right tools.” I switch to a finer brush, working through Chewie’s coat section by section. “Plus, everybody deserves a little pampering.”
Adding Some Sparkle
Chewie makes a sound that’s half purr, half engine rumble. I swear his whole posture relaxes as I work. After getting his fur detangled and properly conditioned, I pull out my secret weapon—a small container of biodegradable glitter.
“Now for the finishing touches,” I announce, sprinkling just a hint of sparkle through his freshly brushed coat. “Trust me, darling, subtlety is key.”
I add some volumizing mousse to give his fur that perfect bounce. Then I use a small flat iron to smooth out a few rebellious cowlicks around his face. Finally, I pull out a ribbon—a rich burgundy that complements his natural coloring perfectly. I tie it in a small bow just behind his left ear.
“There we go,” I say, stepping back to admire my handiwork. “Now you look like the distinguished co-pilot you are.”
The Big Reveal
The transformation is so dramatic that even the princess does a double-take when she walks into the cockpit. “Chewie, you look… absolutely fabulous.”
He preens in front of the reflective surface of a console. He turns his head this way and that to catch the light hitting his glittery highlights. The bow stays perfectly in place. His fur has gone from ‘electrocuted scarecrow’ to ‘luxury carpet that just won Best in Show.’
Chewie poses dramatically, one paw on his hip. He lets out what can only be described as a satisfied diva growl.
Droid Drama
That’s when Luke approaches, looking worried and carrying the little astromech droid’s data interface. Behind him trails a golden protocol droid who immediately starts fussing.
“Oh my! What have you done to Chewbacca?” the golden droid exclaims. His voice is pitched with theatrical horror. “That glitter will never come out of his fur! The odds of successfully removing craft glitter from Wookiee hair are approximately 3,720 to 1!”
“Relax, 3PO,” Luke says tiredly. “He looks great.”
“Great? GREAT?” 3PO’s voice climbs even higher. “I am fluent in over six million forms of communication. None of them have adequate words to describe this… this… bedazzlement!“
Pearl-Clutching Protocol Droid
“Honey,” I interrupt, “you need to take it down about forty percent. It’s just a little sparkle.”
3PO turns to me. I swear if he could clutch pearls, he would. “Just sparkle? Do you have any idea how many of MY circuits could be damaged by conductive particles? I simply must insist on a full decontamination protocol! The nearest proper oil bath facility is on Endor, and that’s three hyperspace jumps away!”
“Um, TechBear?” Luke cuts in, clearly used to managing droid drama. “We could really use your help with something else.”
The Real Mission
“What’s the problem, sunshine?”
“R2’s got the Death Star plans stored in his memory banks, but…” He gestures helplessly while 3PO continues fretting in the background about “proper grooming protocols.” “Alderaan was destroyed. All the Rebel command’s decryption protocols went with it. We know the plans are in there, but we can’t access them.”
I look at the droid, who beeps mournfully. “So you need someone to crack the encryption?”
“Can you do it?” Leia asks, hope creeping into her voice.
Time to Crack Some Code
I crack my knuckles. “Honey, I’ve been breaking into locked systems since before you were born. R2, you ready to give up those secrets?”
The little droid rolls forward eagerly and extends his data port. I plug in my diagnostic tablet and start working through the layers of Imperial encryption.
“Let’s see what kind of interesting data you’ve been carrying around…” I murmur. My fingers dance over the interface. “Oh, bless their hearts. This encryption would have been cutting-edge science fiction… in 1977. They’re using algorithms that my smartphone could crack during a coffee break.”
Luke looks over my shoulder anxiously. “So you can break it?”
Government Contractors Are the Same Everywhere
“Sugar, this is like trying to pick a lock with a credit card when you’ve got bolt cutters. The Empire’s got some impressive tech, but their cybersecurity is stuck in the disco era.” I bypass another layer with a few keystrokes. “There we go… and… oh my.”
There, buried in the architectural plans for something called a “Death Star,” is a flaw so obvious it makes me want to find the engineer responsible. I need to have a little chat about quality control.
“Well, sugar,” I say, highlighting the thermal exhaust port on my screen, “somebody really phoned it in on the security design here. This little vulnerability? It’s like leaving your front door key under the welcome mat.”
Han leans over my shoulder, eyebrow raised. “You just found the weak spot in the Empire’s ultimate weapon?”
“Honey, it’s just basic engineering incompetence. Government contractors are the same everywhere—they get paid regardless, so why bother? I’ve debugged battle droids for counts and fixed hologram projectors for Imperial senators. Same story every time.”
Small Galaxy After All
Luke’s eyes go wide. “You worked for Count Dooku?”
“Some fancy title like that, yeah. Nice cape, terrible droid programming. Why?” I look up from the screen. “You act like I just said I met Abraham Lincoln.”
Luke’s eyes go wide. “The Force works in mysterious ways.”
“The Force, sure, but mostly it’s just basic engineering incompetence.” I save the data to my tablet. “Y’all might want to pass this along to whoever’s in charge of taking down giant space stations.”
The princess pats my shoulder sympathetically. “The Empire jammed our communications, but don’t worry—the Rebellion pays its contractors well.”
The Good Stuff
As Chewie offers me what appears to be a glass of blue milk, I smile and pull out my flask. It’s a beautiful crystal bottle of Glenlivet honey-mead scotch. A thank-you gift from a very satisfied customer in another galaxy far, far away.
“Thanks, big guy, but I only drink the good stuff.”
I add a generous splash to the blue milk, swirl it around, and take a sip. “Now that’s what I call a proper space cocktail.”
Chewie sniffs the flask curiously. His nostrils flare with interest. I hold it out to him. “Want to try some real Earth spirits?”
He takes one experimental sniff. His eyes light up like Christmas morning. Before I can say “easy does it,” he’s tipped the entire flask back and drained it in one go.
“Well,” I say, watching my expensive scotch disappear, “I guess Wookiees appreciate quality too.”
Note to Self
Chewie lets out a satisfied rumble and pats me on the back with enough force to rattle my teeth. He nearly knocks me into the next solar system.
I make a mental note: Next time, if dispatch sends me coordinates instead of an address, I’m calling in sick.
Some tech support calls take you to strange places. But honey, this one’s taking me to a galaxy far, far away—and my cosmic roaming charges are going to be astronomical. Just wait ’til accounting has to reimburse me. They blasted me halfway across the galaxy, cost me a flask of Glenlivet, and ended with me elbow-deep in Imperial encryption and Wookiee conditioner.
Honestly, though? I crushed it.
So if anyone asks where I was on Star Wars Day…
Cue dramatic lighting and the sound of a perfectly calibrated lightsaber igniting…
Until next time, my radiant TechnoCubs—
About Techbear, Jason, and Gymnarctos Studios
About Techbear
When Techbear isn’t elbow-deep in a hyperdrive motivator or styling fabulous Wookiees, he loves to binge-watch techno-dramas while sipping honey-mead cocktails. He swears he once white-hat hacked a computer, nearly starting a nuclear war, but debugged the security system using a slide rule, some body glitter, and a bit of sass.
About Jason
Techbear is my sassy, flamboyant alter ego. When I’m not sending him to galaxies far, far away or to fix coffee makers in the Delta Quadrant, I’m the Chief Everything Officer, Evil Mastermind, and Head Brain-Squirrel Wrangler at Gymnarctos Studios. From my lair in Edina, MN, I help make the world of tech less scary and more accessible for everyone. We believe tech should work for everyone, whether that’s building an accessible website or fixing your PC—no technical jargon, no BS.
About Gymnarctos Studios
I started Gymnarctos Studios after years on corporate help desks. I noticed that most problems weren’t about something being broken, but about people not knowing how to work with the tech they had. My calling became not just fixing roadblocks, but explaining how and why they happened, so clients could handle similar issues in the future.
Do You Have a Burning Question For Us?
Drop us a line at gymnarctosstudiosllc@gmail.com.
Want a response in Techbear’s inimitable voice? Use “Ask Techbear” in the subject line. You’ll get a reply dripping with sass, glitter, and fabulousness (and perhaps a gentle roasting for your tech, fashion choices, or both!).
For a serious business inquiry? Use an appropriate subject line, and I’ll respond with my professional pants on.