After years of study with the Administrators, alone with his
Power Source, Monitor and Mouse,
the Wizard began writing. Equations, numbers and letters, symbols he had short-cut to
his Keyboard like tattoos or sable fur, all these things he
placed into Memory.
He was able to work without much rest, had stocked a bank
account and accrued interest,
had his groceries: fruits, nuts, rice, and milk, delivered
to his door.
The windows stayed closed to keep Samaritans from causing
mischief,
but the blinds stayed up so the Wizard could survey his
progress.
Each day started with a few Strokes across the Keys,
clicking in the sunrise,
as the light lingered higher and lower he would ebb and flow
his speed.
Always Troubleshooting, sometimes not construction so much as
conversation,
Discussing the Algorithms, noting each other’s limitations,
capacity to evolve.
His Application must begin to breathe. As the Text
he etched developed, he began to convert it to a Model.
Death watched through the crack beneath his front door.
Soon, the Pascal, Python, secret Languages he wrote himself,
ran into each other,
slid into the crevices. He decided his Task had reached the torrential stage,
and opened his Mainframe to the Network. Shadowless people and other Wizards
at first feared, misunderstood what they perceived to be a
chasm of Data.
They mocked him, roasted his U in Forums and trolled his Requests.
The Wizard had anticipated this, his Spiders already
searching for instances of warmth.
Soon he collected his Followers and Slaves. They combined
their Bandwidth and became his mouths,
posting and composing for him, their Hits escalated, more
joined, the tubes grew.
The Wizard returned to his labors, struggling with the final
step, the dangerous spark,
which could wipe away as much as it could create. His arms
continued to wither;
his beard hung long and wispy on his lap; his room echoed
with clicks, gasps
when the Wizard remembered to breathe. The sun paled for him
and
his groceries piled up, were scavenged, piled up again. Even
among his beloved followers
doubt spread, until he released the Key and the
Contributions flowed full Open Source up the mountain.
Veins opened, were patched, any fragments of material deemed
extraneous were deleted.
Truly, no one suspected his end goal, his miracle applied
intravenously to the world
was not a man in the alpha build. One, rather, at the next
stage of development
because he was constructed of all the Bits of Man. And yet he was not of men,
he served no more purpose for men than a brief breeze.
Those who could grasp the Code marveled, suspected
the Wizard, and yet none could quite conceive what
existed.
When the authorities arrived, they found a child half awake.
Her Voice had broken into a human binary
of "lololololol."
