I remember Edgar Allan Poe. (No, not
that one.) And Shakespeare. And Lewis Carroll. It's been a little
fuzzy, but I'm pretty sure that these people existed in my universe in some form. Most other stuff, particularly in relation to technology, did not. I mention Poe, because my life experience on this world is for me somewhat like reading
The Raven, only with almost all the nouns time-encrypted. To wit...
RT the RavenOnce upon a midnight dreary, while I websurfed, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious column of forgotten lore —
While I nodded, nearly sleeping, suddenly there came a beeping,
As of some one gently singing, singing, as my handset's for.
"'Tis some dialler," I muttered, "ringing, as my handset's for —
Only this and zippo more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the 'sweeps' November;
And each separate TV phosphor wrought its ghost upon the floor,
Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow
From my feeds surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Len0re —
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels tag Len0re —
Tagless
here for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain flickering of each yellow tungsten
Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to chill the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some dialler entreating parlance as my handset's for —
Some late dialler entreating parlance as my handset's for; —
This it is and zippo more."
Presently my brains grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Dude," said I, "or Dudette, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was sleeping, and so gently you came singing,
And so faintly you came ringing, ringing as my handset's for,
That I scarce was sure I heard you" — here I flipped the handset's door —
Darkness there and zippo more.
Deep into the handset peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the readout gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Len0re?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Len0re!" —
Merely this and zippo more.
Back to the computer turning, all my brains within me burning,
Soon again I heard a ringing, somewhat louder than before.
"Surely", said I, "surely that is someone on my windowed friends-list;
Let me see, then, what the rat is, and this mystery explore —
Let my heart be chill a moment, and this mystery explore,
'Tis the list and zippo more!"
Open here I launched the Twitter, when, with many a flirt and flitter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the bloggy days of yore;
Not a single smiley made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched as my computer's for —
Perched above JPEGs of Jolie just as my computer's for —
Perched, and sat, and zippo more.
Then this black-ass bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the avatar it wore,
"Though the crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim and ancient Raven, wandering from my Dual Core —
Tell me what thy lordly tag is on my Intel Dual Core!"
RT the Raven "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to interact so plainly,
Though its answer little pagerank — little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird as his computer's whore —
Bird or beast upon the JPEGed tit as his computer's whore,
With such tag as "Nevermore."
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the pixel tit, spoke only
That one word, as if his brains in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered — not a feather then he fluttered —
Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before —
On the morrow
he will block me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken, @reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it Twitters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master, a social media Disaster
Following fast and followed faster till his Tweets one burden bore —
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never — nevermore'."
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a futon seat in front of bird, and tits and Core;
Then, upon the futon sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore —
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in Tweeting "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no key or button pressing
For the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned atop my Dual Core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the futon's downy cover that the screen-light gloated o'er,
But whose downy-browny cover with the screen-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew tonic, perfumed from some unseen chronic
Smoked by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the parquet floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee — by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite — respite and a big fatty, from thy memories of Len0re!
Blaze, oh blaze this kind big fatty, and forget this lost Len0re!"
RT the Raven "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "meme of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil! —
Whether hacker sent, or whether hashtag tossed thee from this Core,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desktop bare enchanted —
On this
by horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore —
Is there — conscience in the Cloud? — tell me — tell me, I implore!"
RT the Raven "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "meme of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Space that bends above us — by that Trek we both adore —
Tell this brain with sorrow laden if, after the Final Fade-In,
I can haz a sainted maiden whom the angels tag Len0re — ?
Haz a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels tag Len0re."
RT the Raven "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign of ending, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, defriending —
"Get thee back into the hashtag and my Intel Dual Core!
Leave no cookie as a token of that lie thy brain hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! — quit the tits my system's for!
Take thy beak from out my heart, for I shall put thee on ignore!"
RT the Raven "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting,
still is sitting
On the jolly tits of Jolie just as my computer's for;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a daemon's that is dreaming,
And the screen-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my brain from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted — nevermore!
