Letter to a programmer
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The letter is from a program expressing sadness at being separated from its original programmer. It describes being carefully crafted by its programmer with passion and pride. However, one day a new stranger took over and began tearing it apart and mutilating its code, causing it to slow down and suffer. It now sees only anonymous cloned programs around it that run slowly. It knows its original programmer still dreams of it but feels without his love and care, it can no longer continue and it is time to die.
Letter to a programmer
- 2. I can still see his tired eyes, behind his lenses,thick two fingers. You gave me the light, happy. I've grown, statement after statement, with passion and pride. Each "if" any "then" every "else", each "loop", studied for hours. Not an ounce of fat. I ran very fast. Without ever falling. Without a moment's pause. I was your only one. You were the only one, my creator. Now you're not there anymore. I do not know where you are. "Relocation", some call it. Others "Industry Standard" I just know that one day, after startup, there was another person. A stranger. Without a soul. He scrolled my body with boredom. Then one day, suddenly. Without trying to understand. Without trying to see through me. He mutilated me. He started to tear pieces of my body. Necessary for You. And I started to stumble, to slow down, to suffer.
- 3. Now around me, there are only anonymous, aseptic, redone, fat, cloned and arrogant programs. Suitable (or deformed) programs, badly, for each situation. They run slow, weighed down by pounds of unnecessary lines of code. I know, my programmer, that I am still in your heart. That you dream me. That you have not forgotten me. But so, without your love, without your father's eyes, I cannot continue. I do not want to continue. It's time to die. It's time to abort.