Babbage's Disease

Edwin Birch coughs up an (slightly fictionalized) autobiographical novel on Charles Babbage--inventor of the Analytical Engine father of the Computer Age--& his diminutive friend Jiffy: Hello Jiffy Babbage murmured utterly bewildered and transfixed by the strange entity on his lap. What were you doing in my throat? he managed at last. It was a reasonable question and it received a reasonable answer: I don't know. What's a throat? It's what you were in just now. Oh. I see. I was sitting in it. Ah. Why? Jiffy scrunched up his eyes and thought for a bit. I don't know he said at last with a bright little smile. What's your name mister? Babbage said Babbage. Charles Babbage. That's a stupid name said Jiffy. I like you. You're a funny colour. Where are we? What's an analytical engine? What did you say? Babbage hissed. I don't know. What's an analytical engine? How... how did you...? I don't know. Is it like a spoon? Or a forest perhaps?