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ExamForce :: Article Archive :: Newsletter Article
 The Cert Times: IT Edition Article Archive
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| Why I Can't Afford Therapy (B1N@RY N@T10N (A.J. Axline)) |
Late, in mission control. Vector and I had spent the entire day upgrading servers and redoing cabling. My lower back was aching like a rotten tooth, and my hands had the usual nicks and scrapes that you get while manhandling blades into racks. Still, as we sat in the main control room and watched the gauges and lights flicker with the ongoing operation of the burn-in process, I felt very much at peace.
"These new boxes are going to kick," I said.
"That they are," Vector replied distractedly, studying the numbers from the burn-in.
I finished stripping the meat from a chicken wing, and washed it down with a swig of Vector's home-brewed ginger beer. He claims that his beverage actually causes dendrites to grow in volume. I told him that it was fortunate that he didn't plan on selling it commercially, because the FDA would birth kittens when it saw the lab results.
"So, why did we upgrade these servers?" I asked Vector.
"Because we could," he replied, giving me a look.
"Ah," I said.
Vector continued to give me a look. "You're not getting all weird on me, are you?" he asked.
I came perilously close to snorting chicken out of my nose.
"Man, it's a little late for that sort of concern," I finally managed to get out after I'd sorted out my digestion tubes from my respiration tubes.
"It's just that you've been a little conservative lately," Vector observed.
"Heven forfend," I said, a mock expression of dismay on my face.
"No, really," Vector said. "You've been pretty tight lately. We've been in stores lately, and I've seen you pick stuff up and then put it back with some kind of 'old guy' look on your face."
"What does my 'old guy' face look like?" I asked. "Is it kind of twisted, like I'm experiencing an acute angina attack?"
"An acute what?"
"Oh no, I'm not taking a chance on typing that twice," I replied. "Or, is it more of a pinched, wistful look of an old man thinking about a time when his rectal veins weren't screeching like Condoleeza Rice when you throw holy water on her?"
"You look like a man who is constantly talking himself out of things that he wants to do," Vector said.
"If I did everything I want to do," I said, "I would be dead or in jail inside of a month."
"Fair enough, but I still think that--"
"I'm worried," I said, cutting Vector off.
He looked surprised. "Worried? What about?"
"Everything," I said quietly.
I looked down into my mug, and neither of us said anything for awhile.
"I don't know how else to describe it," I said eventually. "I'm just worried that everything is falling apart, and pretty soon the shallow veneer that keeps everyone from ripping each other's throats out will vanish, and this whole nifty civilization thing we have going on will unravel, and it won't mean a damn whether or not you know how to install a new server or write a help system for a piece of software. I'm worried that we're on the cusp of a new Dark Age, where people who can think are going to be worthless."
"I'm worried that we're falling, all of us, into some pit that will take decades to climb out of, if we're able to climb out at all," I said.
"Oh, that," Vector replied lightly.
I gave him an unkind stare while he picked the meat off of a drumstick.
"Care to elaborate on your flippancy?" I said.
"You've been thinking too much again," Vector said. "Thinking is a good thing, but with that supersized imagination of yours--"
"I hardly think that I've been imagining that the world is--" I said.
"--is sliding into a pile of its own vomit?" Vector interupted. "Well, that is one way of looking at it. In which case, what the hell does it matter if you buy yourself some tech toys to play with?"
"I have a... there's more to it than that," I said.
"Not really," Vector said, licking his fingers. "Here's the deal: if the world goes to shite, than it won't matter what your credit balance is. If the world doesn't go to shite, then there will always be someone, somewhere, who will pay you money to install servers or write help systems. You'll make those low monthly payments, and somewhere along the way, you'll either pay it all off or you'll die before you can, in which case it's somebody else's problem."
I looked at Vector as he polished off the last of the wings.
"It's not that easy," I said finally.
"Sure it is," he replied. "Now, that doesn't mean that you should go out and buy so much stuff that your creditors send Scaramanga to hunt you down. You have taught me a little bit about balance, and all that. But, my friend, if you let fear pucker you up so that all you do is hoard your energy away like a doomsday cultist... well, then your Dark Age has already begun."
Vector wiped his mouth with a napkin, and went back to studying the readouts on the new servers while I sat and finished my ginger beer.
"I could use a new monitor," I said after some time had passed.
"That you could," Vector agreed.
"Just because, you know, my current one has been acting up a lot lately," I said a little defensively.
"That it has," Vector agreed.
"Do you think anything is open this late?" I asked him.
Vector clapped a hand on my shoulder.
"My friend, the wonderful thing about civilization is that there's always something open," he grinned.
A.J. Axline is the caretaker of Closet Universe, and is likely going to die in poverty.
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Posted by
nam on 29/08/2006 12:30 |
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