How Linux saved my life

David M Williams
Thursday, 05 June 2008 05:57

Opinion and Analysis

“The answer is simple,” Tim spoke. “You have opposable thumbs. Try as we might to remove the rocks holding our beloved Mark Forer captive, our natural inclinations are to merely climb the rubble, not disperse it. We have seen from afar your prowess on the device you know as BlackBerry. We know your thumbs are up for the challenge. We have seen them fly forth with all the speed and skill of a dervish-infused river dancer.”

Well, what could I say? At last I was being respected, not mocked, for my obsession with typing e-mails while I slept, while I drove, while I was meant to be listening to others speaking.

“Let’s go!” I said, not knowing the terrible events that would soon unveil.

“But first, please allow me to brush my teeth,” I entreated. Tim nodded his consent and I returned inside my home. After fulfilling my hygiene routine and before departing back to the scene of this assembled petting zoo it occurred to me I may need to check my e-mail. I slipped my faithful ASUS Eee Linux PC into my coat pocket and allowed the newcomers to transport me to their homeland.

Yet, the hospitality and eerie cordiality I had believed demonstrated faded as we moved closer to this so-called planet ORA. As we drew nearer my farmyard associates began salivating and panting and snorting through their nostrils or screeching and flapping their wings with excitement that this beloved, yet mysterious, Mark Forer would soon be speaking with them once more.

Although it was stated, the reality did not dawn upon me until I laid eyes upon the massive mountain of rock before me. I was seriously expected to shovel and convey the debris – and for what reason? Because my thumbs were calloused from years of abuse on mobile keypads? The enormity of the task gripped me.

“I cannot do this alone,” I wailed.

“You will work, and if you die trying so be it,” Tim intoned. There clearly were going to be no favourable requests granted for assistance or even basic equipment. At this moment I knew my gargantuan figure, shaped by years of sedentary computing, had totally unprepared me for the rigours of actual physical work.

The “I’m a knowledge worker” excuse wasn’t going to fly here.

But! My brain clicked into action. Perhaps there is another way. Perhaps these so-called ancients did have a second entrance, one which was long forgotten. On the flight the animals had mentioned the strange coldness within Mark Forer’s cave. Perhaps there was some form of ventilation that I could exploit.

I requested permission to scout about and this was granted, though an armed assortment of animalia followed behind. It had not taken long when I spied a dusty box festooned with numbers and blinking lights. “What is this,” I asked, wiping dust from it with my sleeve.

What is it? Please read on to hear of the fantastic events that transpired.

CONTINUED