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No Fragments Archive 10: Diskmags
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nf_archive_10.iso
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MAGS
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POWERMAG
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POWER21.MSA
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POWER_21
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STILCAME.PWR
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1990-01-01
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7KB
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121 lines
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
>>>>>>>>>****************************<<<<<<<<<
>>>>>>>>>* BUT THEY STILL CAME... *<<<<<<<<<
>>>>>>>>>****************************<<<<<<<<<
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
>>>>>>>>>>>>**********************<<<<<<<<<<<<
>>>>>>>>>>>>* A HARROWING TALE * <<<<<<<<<<<
>>>>>>>>>>>>**********************<<<<<<<<<<<<
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
>>>>>>>>>>>>**********************<<<<<<<<<<<<
>>>>>>>>>>>>* BY RICHARD DAVEY *<<<<<<<<<<<<
>>>>>>>>>>>>**********************<<<<<<<<<<<<
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
I had myself all psyched up for a serious programming bout, my plans
and flowcharts' littered the desk, a king size pack of munchies and
the standard liquid refreshment. This was going to be a monster
session and I wanted no interruptions, continuity was everything.
I leveled out my swivel chair, aligned it correctly so my hands had
maximum free movement on the keyboard, turned the glare down on my
monitor and switched my Atari on.
Reaching for the programming folder and booting my source code I
played with a few routines and then sunk back into the deep abyss of
programmer-land, algebra zooming around my mind, new ideas and new
routines flowing forth from my fingers. I was on a roll. Taking a
few precious minutes as the latest program compiled I sipped from my
can and looked out the window. Already the sun had sunk behind the
hill, casting an eerie darkness. Stars were appearing in the
twilight sky and night was rushing forth. I knew this meant only one
thing. Soon they would be here. There was nothing I could do to
stop them, the creatures of the night had their sights set on my room
and they sure as hell were going to find a way in.
I pushed the thought from my mind for a second and returned to my
computer, it must have been a good quarter of an hour until the
terrible events of that night began to proceed. You see they have
this clever knack of making themselves invisible to start with, sure
this is only a preliminary stage of their attack sequence, but its
one of the most frightening. My fingers kept tapping away at the
keyboard, but the mistakes started becoming more stupid as my mind
was elsewhere.
I wasn't going to give in to them, I wasn't.
A shadow skipped across the wall in-front of me, I spun round on my
chair but there was nothing to be seen. I knew then that the
onslaught had begun and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I
looked up and realised to my horror that I had left the window open
in a vain attempt to keep cool these summer evenings. That was my
biggest downfall. I jumped from my chair and slammed it shut, but I
knew in my own heart it was too late, I knew they were in here. It
was a matter of time.
Time to them was irrelevant. The familiar tap,tap,tap sounds
started, the shadows flying all over my walls and ceiling, the
fluttering noises. Looking up to the light bulb I could see three of
them, they were persistently smashing themselves into the white hot
bulb, bouncing back and then proceeding with their suicidal approach.
It's a sign of strength you see, the largest ones can usually survive
a good multiple battering against the fiery glass, but the smaller
ones rarely survive, giving up after a few attempts and then
launching into their second stage of attack.
The failed warriors lock their wings into a V shape and start their
dive bombing run, they arc out into the air and spiral down and down
mounting speed as they go and increasing their area. This is the
most disturbing time of all as the disillusioned warriors career from
one side of the room to the other, hitting anything mindless enough
to be in their way. Their favourite place of attack is usually the
head, as I stare at my screen and hear that oh-so familiar buzz that
indicates the death-spiral is into effect, my nerves tense on end and
I wait for the impact. Sometimes it can be minimal, sometimes it can
be the other side of the room, but most of the time they hit me in
the back of the head. Those with enough tactics will also aim for
the top of my head were there is most hair, thus getting themselves
well and truly entangled as I manically shake my head and ruffle my
hair to remove them.
Once one of them has plucked up the courage to start the mission, the
onslaught never seems to stop. Many a fine night of would-be
programming or writing has been cut short as these dezins of the deep
of night cause havoc on my life again.
I have tried many a tactic to outsmart them, the obvious one being to
turn the main light off and work from the glow of my monitor.
However after a few hours of excruciating eye strain you notice a
whole new breed of night crawlers come into attack. Those
microscopic ones, those little critters that by day you wouldn't see
and by night you simply can't see - until they land on your monitor.
At first they disguise themselves as a stray pixel, a cunning plan,
sometimes they will even blend into a picture so that you don't
notice them at all. Until they move. They you know you have
problems. Agreed they are a minor irritant, but they are easy to
remove - aren't they? For such small creatures squishing them on
your screen is not the best idea for they have an uncanny ability to
spread far and wide making the situation even worse. You can't
really flick them away because the majority of the time they simply
become lodged under your finger nail and smear themselves all over
your finger tips, and hence your keyboard. Is there nothing we can
do to stop the insects of the night from disturbing our work? It has
reached the stage where it is no longer a programming challenge, but
a challenge or survival, a need to win.
And I will win, even if it takes everything I've got, I will win.
No two-bit little moth is gonna ruin my day or night, please, wait
one moment, I have a job for old-trusty (my rolled and sellotaped
newspaper) we have a situation in the east district of my room that
needs urgent attention. To hell with the wallpaper, its a mere
casualty of war, it can be replaced. This IS war!