Wednesday, November 22, 2006

LOGOUT? ( Part I )

The keyboard creaked under the pressure of 120 wpm. The fingers running with mechanical precision in a marathon race on the strewn alphabets: pausing with dramatic effect once in a while, as if like predators waiting to swoop down for the kill.

Are you ready yet?, inquired Qutb. You think this is all child play?, answered Fadr, irritantly. The fake American accent is a dead giveaway. You always take too long. That is because you do not keep your trap shut...

We always tend to judge everything from before. Like tending to identify all archaic Moslem names as Islamic jehadis on a mission to terrorize. Like thinking that phony voices on the other side of a help line is that of a bloody native who resides in an obscure part of the globe. Like thinking that all stories tend to end on a positive note.

The wires traced all the way to through the jungle of heat vents into the server. Emotions, ideals, love, hate, life, death: all as one unidentifiable mass were being strangled into thoughts. It was all about ethics and conscience, wasn't it? But did the question really matter in the end? Who decided what was right and what was wrong?

The white code was now awash on the black screen. Commands, logic loops and variables: all in one indefinite chaos of a program. The virtual world seemed very unreal when it broke up into bits like these. We work in a world where everything seems so good to be true. When stripped to its spine we come to see how deep the rabbit hole goes. Storing our 0s and 1s as electrical currents in one of the billion transistors in our mind.

ERROR Cx97531

Fadr was sweating profusely by now. He was fearing whether he could complete the task at hand or not. Failure was not an option. Is there something wrong?, barked Qutb. No, Fadr stuttered, nothing, nothing, rushing in to cover up. Fadr was never so tensed. His hands were shaking uncontrollably by now. A nervous breakdown was imminent. Complex problems always had simple, easy to understand wrong answers. Qutb suddenly lowered his voice. We have to leave, hurry up now: come on.

( To be continued by The Euphoric Dreamer )