The Power Supplies, all three of them, feel it fastest- but not as quick as the crows. The big blue room in my brain confuses metholated tobaccoo and karoseen smoke, but the simulations reset themselves once the warble in the whine smooths out and the generators stop trembling and the Air Conditioners settle down for a good night's work.
That was two nights ago. Today is Tuesday, and I am bored.
Two weeks ago, the wallboards were the friendlist video displays you'd care to work with. Two nights ago, the helpdesk was kind enough to show me how to fix the kernal calls of a jailed Apache. It took 70 minutes, and then I was bored again.
Last night, helpdesk installed 2^3 new problems into my brain. The symatry was ruined however, when the last two tickets came into my queue unpaired- the others were all twins of some sort.
Zero and One were owned by the same luser.
Two and Three were the same bug.
Four and Five were tickets on the same box.
Six was a firewall.
Last night was fail; i couldn't solve a thing. I borked everything i touched, and barely managed to lash it back together before the sun came up and it was time to go home.
I left the luser langoring, and consoled myself by saying that he was probably too much of a luser to be offended. In truth, i was lost as wounded rabbit inside a fox-den. "Two things in life are infinate, and i'm not so sure about the other,"
The bug escaped me, but not before it toyed with my mind. Every obstruction between the bug and my mutant perceptions promised a revalations, but every clock-blasted second of newtons expended turned to slimy unreal shadows that quickly slank away in embaresment.
The box was a bitch- but maybe i didn't give her a chance. When you open a terminal onto your second-best choice of intersting topics for the evening, you have to expect to feel a little resentment. I suppose I could stop anthromophizing my machines, and the resentment would go away, but i just get so lonly sometimes.
The firewall called me a n00b, and then i hit it with a hammer until it showed me where the borken bits were and i passed it onto the day shift.
When seven came, i stopped working. i opened up the web comics, and the news feeds, and the humor agregators, and read and re-read seven until my eyes fell closed. And then I waited until it was time to go home.
A single, interesting, totally unique problem that i've never been exposed to before- and there were only 40 minutes left in my shift.
I went home and went to bed. I felt depressed. I woke up and read Snow Crash until I got to the part where Hiro sees Juanita inside the Black Sun. I felt sorry for myself.
It froze two night ago, and by 'It,' I mean the big blue room. I'll step out to the stoop for a smoke, pulling scalding wind down pipes too scared to bleed, when the whine of the mecanical dogs called Air Conditioners begins to contract.