Obligatory "ignore this space" : https://sacoronavirus.co.za

Reflecting away, we think we catch a glimpse of true colour, but we find that as much as we've let the grass grow under our feet, no-one can deny that a mathematical relation received spatial segregation. And we can be thankful to those who kept the proof that our hope was vain that we had met with incorruptibility. Indeed, we can be thankful that what we did while holding vain hopes must be redone.

But this takes me back to a year which some thought was to bring about radical (and unprecedented) change. Those wiser than me, particularly on the matter of knowing that all men are more than corruptible, correctly predicted the change would simply be that the number of children born on the subsequent year would peak.

Picking up a story that a light-hearted bachelor was attempting to write, I might free myself of frustration by recalling that the sounds that words make are no less important than their spelling. Coming out of a dream-world we might think we've found a way of freeing ourselves of devices. The boy from the nineteen seventies, who had root access though he didn't want it, came across what we were writing while trying to do some debugging--which had come of trying to change the names of things in Sh-code in a hurry.

'Everything you've written so far belongs to us, because ownership of files devolves to the owner of the filesystem,' he said to us. I showed him the GPL file in the project home dir and he fell to thinking. Some time later I heard him say to himself, 'if I make my own version of this licence, is that plagiarism?'

A friend of mine was with me, but he was just in to grant dev to himself.

'Leave it alone!' I heard someone say. But I had lost interest in hotels; the savage kept calling himself a vagabond, and the bushes outside were rustling in a manner which were suggestive of fairies, ghosts, or friends with their 'butterflies'.

'So, then, what are we looking at?' the same examiner asked, as if reading my thoughts. Recalling school, and children playing as if they were characters in a computer game, I found that I would have to telescope my thoughts very far indeed to avoid self-referencing metaphors. We might say a Kernel is what it is, but that's a poor show when we can take it apart. Our problem, it seems, is in the matter of cloning ourselves: a fantasy that attacks some of us is one in which we're left alone to wander the earth.

The Last Man Left Alive needn't worry himself about letters. Listening to fading echoes of 'he's got the whole world in his hands' comingled with 'that's here! that's us!' he thinks to himself, 'well, now's the perfect opportunity to perfect a practical kernel, because on the one hand, no-one is going to tell us that ours must ever be inferior to the Great World Kernel that provides Yet More Evidence, and on the other, we will have none cheering us, as we make our improvements, for competing with the Knower of All.'

'In the meantime,' he said, in case his being alone was just an illusion, 'GNU, though g'not for g'new users, remains the last word to creation.'

••
Feedback